#cleaning out the old beach stone box

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a lady?? Hello?? 👁👄👁

This is my poly story set in the 17th century smuggling heyday of Cornwall that got way out of hand. It was supposed to be a sweet, short story with a selkie, a bucca (sea spirit), and a young woman, and it just... went berserk and turned into a 17k word story...

Here's the very much WIP opening of it though, and a much longer extract of the two male love interests...

___

In the cold blue light of a spring dawn, hours before the first cockerel on land had even thought of announcing the start of the day, a cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide and dropped anchor. In answer, a small, mismatched fleet of fishing boats set oar to water and moved out as one towards the waiting ship from Roscoff.

Between them, over the next few hours, the gathered men and women moved hundreds of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. This shipment of relatively small kegs were full of rich French cognac that would fetch a very pretty price, but along with it came tobacco and spiced tea, wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the weather out, and a few cases of other, smaller luxuries like lace.

Flaskers waited ashore to heave two of the four-gallon barrels up the clamber from sand to hilltop with a keg affixed to the front and back of one shoulder while women carried boxes of tobacco and other smuggled goods until the ship rode high in the water and the locals had scurried away like ants with their haul.

Fifteen miles away as the sun breached the horizon and cast the first rays of warmth across the hedgerows and pastures, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westward along potholed roads, carrying a nervous young woman to a new chapter of her life.

...

The storm had blasted away the muggy heat from the day before to leave a clear, fresh day and a blue sky. Just as she crested the clifftop at Rocky Point near an old stone cottage, and joined the path that ran the length of Cornwall from Landsend to Looe, she happened to glance down into the sandy cove below and gasped. There floating in the water, was the unmistakable shape of a man. He was face-up, and even at that distance, she thought he looked familiar.

Nel leapt off Blackthorn’s back, having no choice but to leave the mare untethered up on the windy cliff, and she skittered down the tiny, winding path towards the rocky shore below. A number of times she slipped and skidded on the loose grit, but eventually she hit the hard sand at a run and ploughed into the rough surf. It was Edmund Nancarrow, she realised as a wave hit her in the midsection and nearly swept her off her feet.

He had a wound on his forehead, though it had long since stopped bleeding, washed clean by the saltwater. His hair was loose and streamed like kelp around him as she hooked her arms under his and towed him towards the shore. She had no idea whether the tide was coming or going, but she dragged him as far as she could up the length of the beach until her arms were shaking from the strain of it, hauling him past the line of seaweed that indicated a normal high tide line, and carefully lowered him onto the sand.

Her chest burned and her limbs felt like lead, her clothing weighing her down like a ten tonne anchor, and she crashed to her knees on the wet sand beside him. Terrified that he would be dead, she pressed her fingertips to his pulse, and almost leapt back when she felt a steady, if slow, beat beneath his skin. “He’s alive…” she whispered, throat raw from catching a salt-wave straight to her face.

Breathing quickly, she looked about her and then up at the path. There was no way she could get him up there on her own, but as a drift of smoke wafted across the sky from the high horizon, she recalled the stone cottage. If memory served her, that was Locryn Trevethan’s home.

“Any port in a storm,” she mused with a wry, dark grimace to herself, and she staggered to her feet. Her skirts were soaked and heavy beyond belief, and she lost count of the number of times she tripped over them on the narrow, twisting path up the cliff. She had to stop twice just to catch her breath, and by the time she had scrabbled to the top of the path again she was dirty, sweaty, and covered in grit. Finally, she staggered over the rough ground at the top of the cliff and stood on the flagstone threshold of the quiet cottage. Hammering on the door felt like sacrilege to the peaceful place but she had little choice, and there was every chance that Edmund had little time, so she bashed her scuffed and bleeding fists on the door and yelled for help until it opened.

“Calm down, calm down,” a deep, gravelly voice rumbled as Locryn Trevethan pulled open the door to his house. “What in the —?”

“I need your help,” she said. “It’s Edmund. He’s hurt.”

At that, the snarling, unfriendly man’s face blanched and his expression showed open fear. “Where, lass?”

“On the beach,” she said and pointed. “He was floating face-up in the surf. I dragged him up the sand but I can’t get him up the cliff. He’s suffered a blow to the head, but he’s alive. Just.”

Ashen-faced, Locryn charged through the doorway like a winter storm, almost knocking her heedlessly off her feet as he passed, and in half the time it had taken her to reach the bottom, the stocky, older man was sprinting over the sand to where she’d left Edmund’s corpse-still body.

For a while, she watched from the clifftop as Locryn pumped his chest in a rhythmic motion, and when Edmund jerked and half-rolled sideways, Nel relaxed a fraction. A few minutes later, Locryn had scooped Edmund up and was marching back up the path again with him lying in his arms like a bride on her wedding day. Except Edmund looked pale to the point of death, and he was soaked through. He wore simple brown trousers and a linen shirt that stuck to every sharp angle of his skinny torso, and his head lolled in Locryn’s arms, hair dangling and dripping.

“Move,” Locryn growled as he reached the top of the path and found her half-blocking his way in her shock as she just stared at them and tried to stop shivering. The wind bit through her wet clothes as they clung horribly to her body. She skittered sideways and let him pass. He didn’t stop as he elbowed his front door open again and trudged in, heedless of the sand he tracked in from his boots.

Nel hung back awkwardly in the doorway, watching as Locryn laid Edmund down on top of his covers and inspected the wound in his hairline. “Can you hear me?” she heard him rumble and watched as Edmund’s eyelids flickered.

“My mare is a little way off,” she said. “I can ride for a doctor if —”

“No,” Locryn barked, straightening from his stoop over the bed to glare at her. “No need.”

“You’re sure?”

He lifted his lip at her and she held up her scraped palms.

“I’m only trying to help,” she said, fighting off tears of shock more than anything else. She hugged her arms around her middle to stop herself falling apart in front of the gruff stranger, and she sucked her cheek to keep from crying.

At that, Locryn’s whole demeanour changed. His massive shoulders sagged and he let his head hang. “I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. Come here then. Draw up a chair and hold his head while I try and get him to drink something. He’ll be alright.”

___

Hope you liked it!!

#wip tag #laces for a lady #poly monster romance #bucca x selkie x human

[welldonebeca]

The King's Wives (II)

Summary: After the fall of Robert’s rebellion, Rhaegar’s surviving son would be raised in secret as a bastard for the first fourteen years of his life. Six years after finding out the truth, Sansa travels down south to join him and complete his group of seven wives - representing each Region of his Kingdom. Slowly, they become a very happy family. A.K.A.: Jon may get seven wives, but Sansa gets six sisters. Main Pairing: Jonsa Minor Pairings: Jon x Arianne Martell, Jon x Margaery Tyrell, Jon x Mya Stone, Jon x Alys Arryn (OC), Jon x Asha Greyjoy (platonic), Jon x Myrcella Baratheon (Platonic) WC: 1.9k words Warnings: Fluff. Canon divergence.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Jeyne crossed the room with her sewing box, placing it on the top of her chest of fabrics, knowing too well Sansa would be using her free time at the trip to continue with making her new clothes.

It was the day right after her 18th nameday, and she was already leaving home.

For six years, she had prepared herself for this, for the day she was going to leave her home and marry Jon, and become his wife.

Maybe even his Queen.

Her parents didn’t want her to leave so soon, but father had already delayed her marriage for far too long. Jon was already married to all six of his wives now, and they were all waiting for her to arrive.

Yes, six wives.

It still turned her stomach, thinking about having to share him with so many women. She wished Jon had waited for her - she wanted to be the first one! - but by the time he was 15, he had already wedded Arianne Martell.

The other wives came through the years, she heard about the weddings from letters he sent Robb.

His wedding to Arianne had a lot of dancing and display of power from both the Martells and the Targaryens. The one to Margaery Tyrell was the second and still the biggest, with three days of partying, and so much luxury she had almost wanted to be invited.

She couldn’t, though. It would be an insult to show off one wife to the families of his other wives and brides. It made father really sad, though, because she knew he wanted to be there for Jon. No one knew how much he would be missed until he was gone. He was an important part of the family.

His third wife had been Mya Baratheon, Lord Robert’s bastard daughter who King Rhaegar had legitimised, as Lord Stannis’ daughter - the only legitimate Baratheon child in existence - was even younger than Rickon, no more than a little girl. Their oldest son would be marrying Shireen, to unite the families. Their wedding was very traditional and small compared to the previous two, but apparently, it was something the bride had wanted. Her uncles were present and were seemingly happy with everything.

Jon married Alys Arryn just half a year after Mya. It was the only wedding that happened in the bride’s home. She was the Lady of the Vale since her father - Lord Jon Arryn, the one who had fostered her father - died, as she was his only child. King Rhaegar had agreed to let him go there, to have a wedding with the local traditions. When he came back with her, a council was elected to assist Lady Alys rule from afar, until their oldest son was old enough to go back to the Vale and rule it.

When she heard about his wedding to Lady Asha, the year after he married Alys, it was not through letters but through Theon's rage. It had happened on one of the beaches of the Capital, which had been cleaned spotless just for that. He wasn’t invited, even though he was her only brother, and was overly frustrated that Jon had shown his respects to their god - the drowned god - by having the ceremony in its traditions. Father had explained that Theon couldn’t go because of his wardship, but Sansa imagined it still hurt.

Apparently, it had taken so long because his bride wasn’t very enthusiastic about it.

His last marriage so far was half a year ago, and it was what worried Sansa. Jon’s sixth wife was Lady Myrcella Lannister, the only living child of Lady Cersei Lannister - Lord Jaime Lannister’s sister and a widow - and just turned fifteen, when he was nineteen. According to Robb, Jon would have waited for it for much longer, but when it was arranged by her uncle, Lord Tyrion, he had insisted it happened already, as the girl had recently flowered.

She could only imagine how much it had hurt Myrcella to leave home at such a young age.

Sansa wondered if Jon had bedded her. She hoped he hadn’t though, that the South hadn’t corrupted him to the point of taking the innocence of such a young girl.

She hoped he remembered she was just as young as Arya…

The thought of her sister was interrupted by the sound of her door slamming open and revealing her, looking very annoyed.

“I can’t believe I can’t go with you!” Arya nearly screeched.

Yes.

That.

“Arya…” she sighed.

“Jon is our family too!” she argued loudly. “We should all be able to go!”

Sansa was going South alone, with just her father and Jeyne as her company.

It wasn’t a malicious decision. Everyone knew Jon still saw the Starks as his family, and that it annoyed King Rhaegar very much, so father had made that decision to keep any jealousy or rumours of them being favourites at bay

Yes, it hurt a little. Sansa was the one who wouldn’t have her mother and siblings to see her wedding date, when every other wife had the chance of having their family members at their wedding.

“We have to trust father and his decisions,” she affirmed, though a little gloomy. “You know that.”

Arya tilted her head, interested, and stepped closer to her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

She sighed.

Over the last six years, Jon had written letters to almost everyone. He wrote to father, told Robb about his marriages through letters, and wrote to him almost every month. He wrote regularly to Arya, Bran and even sent a gift to Rickon once.

But he never wrote to Sansa, never sent her anything to show her he remembered her.

“Jon never wrote to me,” she confessed. “Have you ever noticed that?”

Arya shrugged, and Sansa crossed her hands on her lap, watching Jeyne just glancing at the two of them before continuing her packing.

“When I learnt I was going to marry him, I was so excited to marry a prince and be like the princesses in the songs,” her lips curled in a sad smile. “I don’t even know if my prince even wants to marry me.”

The agreement regarding Sansa’s wedding to Jon was that she would be representing both houses Stark and Tully and their lands as she married Jon. She was going to be his last wife, he wasn’t marrying anyone after her.

Honestly, she doubted she was really going to be his Queen like he had promised to Robb, in secret, that time. He had been married to his first three wives for over four years now, they were probably his favourites already. Sansa had heard about Princess Arianne’s wit and Lady Margaery’s beauty for a long time, she wasn’t going to be the dumb girl thinking he was going to be impressed by her, out of all people.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Arya asked. “You are you!”

“He has six other wives, Arya!” she reminded her. “Have you ever heard of Arianne Martell? People literally say she is the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms!”

Her sister rolled her eyes.

“No stuck up princess holds a candle to you!” she affirmed, firmly.

Sansa scoffed.

As if.

Her sister looked down when Lady nosed her hand, looking for pets, and Sansa smiled a bit.

“At least you have Lady going with you,” she scratched behind her wolf’s ear.

There was a knock on their door, and Sansa stood as it opened slowly, revealing her father.

“Everything is ready,” he told her. “It’s time to go.”

Sansa nodded, and before she could say anything, Arya wrapped her arms around her, silently squeezing her, so tight Sansa could feel the words she couldn’t quite say.

“I’ll miss you too,” she whispered, kissing her cheek and caressing her hair gently.

Her goodbyes were relatively quick. There wasn’t a lot she could say to her siblings, and just a little bit of time until everyone would be crying and too emotional, she didn’t want that.  So, she kissed their cheeks and promised to write to them, and boarded her carriage before she could start crying herself, sitting with Jeyne, with Lady on her foot.

She didn’t look back until Winterfell was just a dark blur.

. . .

"The King's Wives" was posted on my Patreon back on June! To read the full story before anyone else and have early access to all of my works, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month!

. . .

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#The King's Wives series #jon snow x sansa stark fanfiction #jon snow #jon snow x sansa stark #jon snow smut #sansa stark #arianne martell #asha greyjoy #myrcella baratheon #mya stone #margaery tyrell #jonsa #jonsa fic #jonsa smut

[quickunfinished]

The Original gangsters

3 main characters

Protagonist

Old lady leader

Protagonist best friend

Act 1

Protagonist Is a young and struggling entrepreneur who lives in a dingey apartment.

He is profit driven but human. He goes to his stand on the beach, visits a bunch of old ladies at a retirement home, and finally visits his friend at the bar. In the first cycle the friend makes fun of the guy for hanging out with the old people, mentions he dosent like old people.

Cycle again, this time quicker, again, finally one cycle the bar scene is longer. Best friend says (while quite drunk/stoned) "you know what I would do man? (No what?) If I were you i would sell the cookies the grannies give you. (Hahahaha) I'm serious man, they're good cookies, they're giving you them for free, and you could run a baked goods stand, make some serious bank.

He goes to bed and the next day repeats the cycle except he visits the grannies first, collects cookies, then puts them for sale on the beach. Noone buys one, but then a little kid walks up and asks for one. Guy hands the kid a cookie and says "here just have it kid." Kid runs outside, eats part of the cookie, and shares with his mom, who comes inside and orders more cookies for at home, much to the guys shock.

The next day he goes back to his regular stand but notices a lot of people asking for cookies, so he says "alright, sure", visits the grannies, collects cookies, then opens the cookie stand. They are a hit and sell out that day. He looks down at his profits, and they aren't amazing but it's more than he was getting selling shirts.

He does this new cycle, and he sells out again, and visits the bar, and talks his friend into visiting the stall the next day.

Friend does and notices the long line, and after work Protagonist gives the elevator pitch to the friend. "You gave me this idea, and i wanna rope you in on this. I've got a good thing goin. (But what can I do?) What your gonna do is your gonna visit retirement homes, build up a rapport and get to know em you know? (Wait you've been taking these treats from old ladies?) It was your idea! (It was a joke!)... (won't lie the money is tempting... but I don't know how to talk to old folks, and I can't do anything if they don't like me!) "IL teach you then"

Montage scene cues. Instead of going to the bar, the friend and protagonist hang out at protags place and do things. They play curling, they watch black and white sitcoms, and try on outfits. The final scene of the montage is of the friend in a photo, then the phone is taken down to reveal the friend with combed hair, button up shirt, clip on bowtie, and khakis.

The friend collects cookies all day before work and drops off a box of cookies halfway through the day. They start making serious bank and split it 50 50.

Act 2:

Another cycle goes by, friend is talking to a granny (specifically old lady leader, henceforth "OLL") and comes clean about the operation. She gets pissed, draws a flintlock, and fires, missing the friend and nailing a portrait of Jesus.

She yells "come back with my fukin money" as he ducks out of the room. In the bar scene of the cycle they talk about the incident, and protag says "just don't collect from her again." In the next scene, OLL is talking to one of the other old ladies, and reveals the truth to her, and by the end of the night everyone in that old folks home is pissed.

In the next cycle friend tries to collect, but Noone will give him cookies and they run him out of the building by descending on him, very slowly.

He calls up protag says "we got a problem boss, Noone gave me anything" (what do you mean, we got people lined up out the block!" [Cut to drone shot of building, people are lined up arround the block, looping arround and doubling up] "just start working a new retirement home" at this point the grannies are hordeing arround the car, and starting to beat on it "aight boss" friend says as he turns on the engine and slowly drives through the crowd, not running over anyone and getting peppered by baking ingredients.

Act 3: some time passes, and

The gig is working better. The friend recruited more people and the store is booming, but collections are mean, and more akin to "give us the cookies"

The protagonist realizes he could make more money by cutting out the friend by firing him, paying the collectors the same and pocketing friends cut.

Protag says "it's not personal, it's just business" fires him and says "I still wanna stay friends tho". Friend says "yeah" because he's polite, but he's pissed. He visits the first retirement home and talks to the receptionist. There is a telegram and an old camera that didn't used to be there.. The scene goes like this.

F " howdy! I'm here to see OLL"

R: *looks up from newspaper, looks up down then back up* "Sure, one minute hon"

They have a very quick conversation in Morse code. The conversation goes like this.

R: there's there's young man, perhaps 20, here to see you.

OLL: can you send me a picture of him?

*the receptionist stands up, takes a picture of the man, and goes back to the telegram*

OLL: I see, bring him in.

R: yes boss

The old lady stands up, and walks behind the man, and pulls a handkerchief out of her purse. Says "hey, how does this handkerchief smell?" And smothers his face with it, he passes out. He regains conceousness and is being dragged by two people in electric wheelchairs. There's a burlap sack over his head. They drag her into OLL's room. (Which has propped open double doors.)

They drop him off, cuff his wrists, and remove the burlap sack. OLL is sitting in an armchair, with two old men holding muskets tailing her. She has a saber.

The conversation goes like this.

O: you got a Lotta nerve coming here, punk

F: (remembering his montage) "oh dearie me, I seem to have caus-

O:*drawing her saber* "I KNOW YOUR TRICKS. *puts it up to his neck* you have exactly one minute to tell me something good before I gut you like a fish you scallywag!

F:"Protag fired me!"

O: *pulls back saber* elaborate

F:He fired me from the business to pinch pennies, and I want to turn on him"

O:*laughs* so you are a rat? See old folk don't like rats very much, usually we just exterminate them. *motions towards guards, they raise their muskets

F:"but I a useful rat! I can tell you where the shop is, where he lives and where he drinks!

O:*motions to stop* *thinks for a minute* alright, your gonna write all that down. See we let useful rats go, but we gotta see if your useful or not, so we're gonna keep you in a cage while we figure out if your useful. Hand over your new fangled devices.

F: could you free my hands?

O: *motions. Guard uses the Bayonett on his rifle and slices the zip tie.*

F* hands over his device.

O: attempts to turn it off but struggles, passes it back and says "could you turn this off for me dear?"

F:*stands up and turns it off*

O: *thanks dear. Motions towards the other guard who hits him over the head with the butt of the rifle and knocks him out cold.*

Final cycle.

Guy wakes up to find his house trashed. There's an old lady across the street birdwatching who sends a signal through a walkie talkie with a telegram mixed in.

He goes to work and begins working the counter. It's a slow day. He steps outside for some air, and there's an old man riding a penny farthing. He goes back in, and as the old man rides by he draws and shoots 6 flintlock pistols. Noone dies, all the shots miss.

He figures out it was probably friend who said something. He gets pissed and goes to bar since he isn't answering his phone. He goes in, drinks, and steps outside, going down the alley.

There's an old lady walking down the road. He looks at her, says "oh shit" and runs the other direction. A horse drawn carriage drives in and 2 old people pop out, Kettering him in this alley.

More old people fill up the alley, and they all beat him up. Eventually he is beat badly, and OLL approaches, spits on him, and kicks his body. He bleeds out on the ground and dies.

Roll credits, fitting ironic song.

Post credit scene: friend is freed and kicked out of the old folks home, and said to never show his face there again.

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 381: Forgiveness

Forgiveness is the Moscow-based collaboration of Alexander Kalinin and Ilya Kasharokov, and with their self-titled debut on Not Not Fun, the duo have produced an inward gazing suite of old skool ambient, chill-out, proto techno, and trip hop constructed from sampler, synth, guitar, and field recordings. The result is an intoxicating head haze of broken balearica—and a soundtrack for futuristic Soviet sunrises and beaches of alien origin; for slow motion night cruises down coastal highways and for visages of melting skies; for city streets soaked in rain and a haze of neon noir; for dystopian skylines merging with sea and cloud; and for seedy adventures into the depths of the dark.

Forgiveness - Прощение (Not Not Fun, 2022) In “Бытие (Being)” wah wah waves wash to shore and edge-sanded bass pulses surround echoing clacks while romantic guitar plucks reflect in the moonlight, with soft noir flecks caught in spiderwebs of tape delay. “Ноябрь (November)” comes to life on menacing bass lines that almost seem to growl with animalistic intent, while ping ponging layers of slapback delirium refuse to align. Slowly, a low slung groove moves into focus, pulling the body into a sumptuous late night swing, with synth bass thumping, primitive rhythm boxes snapping and cracking on the beat, and crazed synth echoes blasting all across the spectrum while space guitars wail in the distance…blending at times with the dissonance of the electronics to create ghostly howls and subdued screams that merge with the heady hazes of the night. 

“Трезвый (Sober)” begins with a trip hop beat stutter—this slow and spacious cut up groove flowing beneath melting keys and sub bass mutations. Claps pitter, patter, and pop across the sky, G-funk spectres pan across the mix evoking faded remembrances of block party dream days, and everything is pitched down to a dopamine drug crawl…the vibe tweaked out, ultra-stoned, and completely at odds with the title. “Рандеву (Rendez​-​vous)” ends the side in further lazy hip-hop remembrances, as kick, clap, and heroin funk bass move in slow motion between jangling ripples and golden soul vocals that warble under a fog of wow and flutter. Phaser and flangers whoosh and whorl while ska strokes climb shimmering stairways of light, and tambourines and shakers further entice the body into island dub hypnosis…the whole thing not unlike some long lost Ruf Dug remix of A Vision of Panorama.

The B-side opens with “Аббис Адеба (Abbis Adeba)” and its mystical sequencing and exotic polyrhythmic world percussions evoking faraway deserts on exoplanetary systems. Sickly synths spray alien vapors and filtering arpeggiations bath the mix in hues of otherworldly neon as the bass lines grow increasingly insectoid, all before everything fades to nothingness. “Восход (Rise)” is aglow in the light of a thousand balearic sunsets, with tremolo guitars flowing in from panoramic horizons and shimmering pads riding harmonious bass waves from the edges of infinity. Echoing shakers stretch out over the surface of shimmering oceans, bongos beat hippie beachside beats, and toms smash and bash bombastically while balmy currents of fuzz guitar bathe the soul in a warming glow of psychedelic sound. 

“Болото (Marsh)” follows this chill-out meditation with charging disco kicks, wiggling technoid basslines buried under layers of industrial filtering, and subaquatic synthesizer scientifics, as airs of Detroit strongly suffuse the spectrum. Spaghetti western guitars anachronously echo across the mix while futurespace electronics filter into wildly unrecognizable forms, with everything held together by rigidly claustrophobic displays of machine drum madness. “Исход (Outcome)” closes the tape with calming cave clatters, sanded soundbaths, and beaming voices obscured by layers of pinging computronics. And as twinkles of metal merge with trace smears of clean guitar romance, everything coalesces for a moment of mystical fourth world dub…as if the musical transmissions of UNKNOWN ME have been given a soft studio rework treatment by Basic Channel.

(images from my personal copy)

#forgiveness #Прощение #alexander kalinin #Ilya Kasharokov #not not fun #not not fun records #britt brown #derek mckeon #forgiveness is key #trip hop #balearic #balearic beat #downtempo #chill out #chill-out #techno #ambient #90s #cassette reviews #tape reviews #tape #cassette #cassette tape #2022 #the sun lounge #sun lounge #octagon eyes

[last-time-i-saw]

I Saw The Sea

The last time I saw, I was looking at water.  The sea is so very different when one is below it. It shifts and swirls like the glass beads of a kaleidoscope, lit by a summer sun whose rays cannot reach me.  Just moments ago, I was on the shore, digging my toes into the wet sand. I crouched there, letting the waves lap at my bare feet. I listened to the gulls cry as they wheeled overhead, searching for abandoned cardboard boxes of fish and chips or half-melted ice cream splattered on the sand. Golden grains slipped through my fingers and stuck to my hands as I sifted through the beach looking for shells. Though most were cracked and dull, some caught my eye. The ones with pearly pink innards or a blue sheen that looked like peacock feathers got tossed into the green plastic bucket at my side. Only when it was full of treasure stolen from the sea did I stand.  I turned, my eyes tracing up the rocky cliffside that loomed over the ocean to find the little blue house that sat at the top. That’s where I was meant to be, dry and clean, sitting in front of the TV and watching after-school cartoons. But there was no car in the driveway and no eyes to watch me so I wandered down the beaten path, long grass brushing me from both sides. To that path, I should have returned. Yet the waves washed over my ankles and tried to pull me back to the sea.  I turned my head to look out at it. From the shore, the sea was vast and grey. It shifted as a single mass, the crests of waves glittering in the sunlight as though carrying silver coins upon them. Amid it, the corpses of old boats bobbed, old and decrepit, trailing coils of rope like tentacles.

My grandfather called the sea beautiful. He tried to paint it often but he made it too blue. Too bright. Too beautiful. He polished it into a fine gem upon his canvas, yet when I looked at it I saw a dull grey stone.  And amid it, a hint of green.  I squinted, my eyes caught on the plastic shovel floating a dozen feet away. So enamoured was I by the cracked shells I was collecting that I hadn’t seen the thief in my midst. The greedy, sea-foam fingers of the ocean had taken from me, holding up the little shovel as though to taunt me into the water. Glancing back at the house on the hill only once, I rolled up my shorts and waded into the sea. Despite the August sun watching over me, and the light sweat on my brow, the water was freezing. I shivered as it reached up my legs, circled my waist, and eventually, found my chest.  The plastic shovel bobbed away from me, pulled by the waves into deeper, colder water. Sand bloomed around my feet with every step until it didn’t. I stepped forward and my feet found nothing, just endless water.  I don’t know what possessed me to swim after that useless shovel. All I know is that when I reached the drop-off, I didn’t turn back.  The shore faded behind me. The water became colder with every stroke of my arms, freezing my blood within my body. My soaking clothes weighed me down, threatening to drag my leaden limbs beneath the waves.  By the time I had the good sense to turn back, it was useless to do so.  I dove beneath the water, kicking my legs and trying to drag my body back to shore, but the ocean had me, and it would not so easily let go.  Something caught my ankle. Something thick and slimy. I already knew that it was one of those abandoned ship lines, trailing from the old boats when I twisted around to look. It was wrapped around my leg, keeping me beneath the water.  My numb fingers grasped for it, slipping against the algae-slick rope as it tangled tighter around me. I fought to break the surface and gasp for air. I fought to kick off the snaring rope. Yet all I managed was to thrash and sink, my wet clothes and my tired body useless to the lure of the sea.  Now, I’m looking up. I’m watching the sun dance through the blue of the sea as I sink. I’m watching the fluid shapes of foam on the water's surface shift above me. From the shore, the sea has never been beautiful, but here, it is. 

#creative writing #writing #writing project #Spotify

[theblondegoesabroad]

Day 40

Friday 10th June 2022

Today started off well. We woke up and made ourselves some delicious eggs and bacon on toast for breakfast. After cleaning up and filling up our water bottles we headed out for the day. Our goal was to find a beach but along the way we stopped at the sights we saw. We first stopped at the town of Dumfries, they had a impressive amount of churches which we poked around. I quite enjoy visiting the graveyards, reading the old tomb stones, it is incredible the amount of kids and families that are all on the same stone. Today I read one where five children all passed away before they were 5 and their mother a few days after the death of their youngest. We forget how dangerous child birth and growing up was now that we have western medicines. But it is humbling. We also stumbled upon another abbey ruins. This abbey is nicknamed the sweethearts abbey as the lady that build it was so in love with her husband that when he died she embalmed his heart and kept it in a special box. And when she eventually died she was buried at the abbey clutching the heart box. Not something I am partial to, but I can see the beauty in the gesture. I think.

But also our goal of the day. We were hoping to go kite surfing but the tides weren’t agreeing with us. Each beach we checked out the tide was out too far or the wind wasn’t right or the beach was too rocky. Turns out it is not as easy as you would think to find the ideal kitesurfing spot. After a few beaches troed and failed we but our hopes of kiting back in the box and changed our plans. We headed inland towards the Galloway national park and once we found a parking spot we walked around there. It was a nice walk, we saw our first loch and we admired the fairy like beauty of the wet forests. Miss growing everywhere, trees bending and making sounds of a squeaky door opening, sunlight filtering through the trees. It was rather beautiful. A nice way to spend the afternoon. Exploring the forests. This evening we had our drinks and nibbles on our makeshift couch appreciating the sun when it appeared. We then heated up our risotto for dinner, did a bit of planning for the next steps of our journey and then set up camp and relaxed with our books. Love kate xxxx

[literally-just-rocks]

Geology side of Tumblr: I need your help!

I picked up this stone off the beach a few years ago. I believe it was North Atlantic, North America. The weird dark spot in the center...is that a fossil of some sort? I've never gone out fossil hunting before, but I was so intrigued by it I just couldn't leave without it. The spot does not go all the way through the rock, and it's only about 0.5cm thick. This side is flat as well, with no odd bumps. If it's a fossil I was thinking plant matter or even small sea life, but I'm not sure. I'm also in an area that had a lot of glacier movement.

Thanks in advance!

#cleaning out the old beach stone box #found some cool stuff I'll share this weekend to make up not posting Thursday and Friday #fossil #unknown fossil #geology #identification help #magpie

[noritoshiikamo]

When you get time coul you do sickingly cute domestic hcs with a character of your choice, you can just straight up delete this is you don't feel like it. ~ embarrassed dragon asks

days of nanami kento, hc:

void, i know u asked for sickly cute domestic hc and i did but i cant help but twisted something at the end bcs i'm me and only pain is allowed ((jkjk void i'll write something pure sickingly cute later for you :* ) warning: 18+ minor dni, sexual content, public, eating out and thigh riding (mention of word daddy) if you read past the addendum, well uh mention of main character's death listen to beach bunny cloud 9 (slowed acoustic) for vibezz

i feel like who ever gets nanami’s heart wins at life

he would bring you flowers every time he gets home

“hello, i’m home,” you could hear his tired voice but when your face come in the view if him, he started to smile and he held the flowers to you, he wasn’t tired anymore

morning with him would be peaceful despite it being monday. you’ll wake up early, he would be sprawled on his belly, comforter wrapped around his waist with his face mushed into the pillow. your cat would be somewhere in bed, sometimes between his legs and sometimes on the same pillow as him; he loves your cat

he likes his coffee black, breakfast is just two toasted breads with spread of butter

when he kissed you, he tasted like toothpaste. you can smell his lingering fragrance from yesterday and his voice was still deep from the slumber

“good morning love.”

“coffee smells good today, did you do anything to em?”

he was shirtless you could see his back with his pants hung loose you could see his happy trails, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose with his messy hair as he took a bite of the toast

he leaned against the counter, his lidded eyes on you and suddenly you felt conscious, but you were in his tshirt and shorts and those adorable socks that looks like animal he secret loves

“you have work today?” he asked washing his hand

you shook your head, pointing to the laptop and sprawling paper works on the table, “working for home.” your body shuddered when you felt the shirt hiked up, his bare hand pressing against your waist, “good,” his voiced echoed on your ear as he pressed a kiss on your shoulder

how did it get here again? your back arching on the counter while his head mewling between your legs. his tongue is mean, it left burning trails wherever it touches, kitten licks along the sensitive slits before his lips enveloped the bundle of nerves

“kento, meetin-ahh,”

“meeting can wait.” yes it can wait until you were trembling, his arms around your waist and you were just begging him to cum and when you did he had no problem cleaning you up, eyes on you as he wiped his chin, sucking the thumb with a small smile

“thank you for breakfast, it’s delicious,” waltzing out of the kitchen with a wink like he hadn't started his day by eating you out while you sat there struggling to catch a breath

on tuesday, he took you for lunch, you went to his favourite bakery and he told the cashier that his girlfriend loves the sourdough bread their bakery made to explain why there's 4 loaves in his basket

he’ll get the same order everyday while you decided to go to the convenient store across the street because you felt like bread was too heavy for today's meal

“i’ll have another one of the croissant, she’s picky, she won’t find anything there,” he explained, pulling out his wallet

like he expected you came out empty handed, but your eyes lightened up when he held another croissant

“how did you know i won’t buy anything?”

“because i’m your boyfriend.”

on wednesday you would take him out for dinner, to that one sushi conveyor shop where they have happy hours for their sushi, its that type of night where you both get slightly wasted on beer, shoveling half priced sushis like tomorrow is the end

to nanami, money is priceless with you, no monetary value could compare to your smile as you feed him a slice of sashimi and the way i love you rolled out of your tongue when he grabbed your favourite sushi from the conveyor if she missed it

on thursday nanami looked restless. you sat at the sofa, him with a book on his lap and you going through your laptop with a cup of tea. “we have a mission coming, i’m escorting a couple of satoru’s students for their grading.”

you stared at him, cup barely got to your mouth, “you’re great, i don’t see any issues.”

“they are kids,”

you reached for his face, his face softened to your touch, nuzzling gently against your palm

“they’ll be alright.”

you squealed when he tossed the book aside, laptop forgotten on the carpeted floor and the cup carefully placed on the coffee table

your shirt slipped off your head easily while his lips never left yours

"you come back home to me alright?" you threatened, "or i'll murder you myself."

"i will, love."

on friday, nanami took you out on a date

he held your hands in the train, shielding you away from the leering men

he took you to a fancy cafe for lunch, he barely touched his food, eyes on you as you stared happily on your choice of meal

"what? is it my mascara? is it messy?" you wondered

"you look pretty today," he said, leaning to brush a thumb across your cheek

he took you to a bookstore, he followed you as you ventured through the long dimmed hallways, the smell of books overwhelmed him as his eyes burned on your back as you looked around for books, the loose material of your dress swaying around

well you did find your book, but he would hold it up high, a small smirk on his face as his fingers tapped on his lips; you got his point

so you held him against the bookshelf as you kissed him, books long forgotten, his hands under your dress as you mewled against his thighs

"let's go home," you begged but he held your waist tightly, bouncing his legs to encourage you to bounce against his thighs

"you can do it here," his lips traced kisses along your jaw, ears as you clutched his shirt, desperately rubbing yourself against his thigh. your eyes drowsy in lust, lips torn from biting too hard as you held your moans and the flexing of his thigh against your clit got your belly in knots

"can you cum for me?"

"yes, daddy,"

he smiled, "good. cum then."

you didn't get caught, but it was hard to stop people from leering at the weird wet patch on his pants as he swiped his card at the counter

you went groceries shopping, his head on your shoulder, arms around you and the trolley as you went down the isle looking for dinner idea

"what do you want, love?" his voice deep against your ears sending shudders down your spine

"anything you want."

he smiled, "well i want to marry you."

"is that a proposal in the middle of a cereal isle?" he laughed, but you can't stop the way your heart beating at the words he said. his lips pressed against the side of your face as he slipped a box of flakes in the trolley

you stopped the trolley, turned around to face him

he looked puzzled, brows up in question

"i want to marry you too."

"good, how about next monday?"

"deal."

but you woke up alone, the next day on saturday, nanami was long gone away for his mission

he left the coffee running, toasted bread and scrambled eggs in the pan and a note on a cup that said i love you, nk , his initial signed

you made yourself a cup of coffee, looking for the remote to turn on the tv

"we had lost contact with the shibuya train station, trapping approximately hundreds of people with no cell phone connection inside,"

the news anchor's word went in her one ear and another

where was nanami being sent to again?

you held his note to your heart, the coffee tasted too bitter for you today, and you leaned against the sofa

how's nanami doing?

on sunday, your ears perked up when you heard a knocking on the door

leaving the pancakes you planed to make, you wondered if it's nanami returning home from his mission

you felt slightly uneased, another set of knocking barged in, you said hold on and closed your eyes, telling yourself it's just your mind fucking with you

you smiled, feeling slightly relief as you twisted the door handle

"welcome home."

"hello, y/n?"

addendum

it was just not fair that the one time you decided to bring flower home to him, he wasn’t there to receive it.

but you’re used to it. it has been a year

all you’ll have to do is just remove the old one from the vase, add more water before arranging the bright flowers in the vase, before placing it back on his tombstone. your hand touched the cold stone, a small smile on your face as you kneeled on the grass

“hi, nanamin, i’m home.”

#YODJKHDJBFHJFJRJFNHF #wait i hurt myself brb #wtf #writing: request answered #writing: hcs #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento headcanons #nanami kento smut

[amatchinwater]

First box done for Steo Spooktober!!

Square filled: Underwater

Warnings: Drowning

Words: 1963

Song that I listened to while writing. Well, the first 6 minutes of it at least lol.

When The Siren Sings

After his grandmother passed away and her will came to light, Stiles inherited a lake house that neither he nor his father knew existed. Desperately wanting a break from all the supernatural fuckery in his life, Stiles left that weekend to go scope the place out. His father was okay with it so long as he checks in. Other than that, he set himself to ‘do not disturb’, using an excuse that he was visiting colleges. It at least made Lydia promise to have the pack leave him alone, so that’s something.

That’s all Stiles wanted. Was some time alone. When he pulled up to the massive two story brick house, he almost wishes he had someone come with him. If Stiles hadn’t been around so many werewolves that he basically shares their attributes, he definitely would’ve gotten lost on the way here. GPS or not. Desolate just grazes the description of this place. The house itself is gorgeous. But save for the lake, it’s a ten minute drive to the nearest break in the trees. Ten whole minutes away from the main road. From help.

The lake is actually pretty. If you’re into the whole pebble beach and water you can’t see the bottom of even when the sun is shining. Which it’s not. It set past the tree line before Stiles even pulled up. And no, he’s not even thinking about sitting on the opening between the railing of the dock and dipping his toes. No, sir. Stiles is heading straight for the front door. When he gets inside, it’s surprisingly not dusty and the furniture is uncovered. Even the piano by the stone fireplace is sparkling in the moonlight through the sheer curtains. 

He hasn’t played the piano in years. A smile pulls at his lips and he sits on the small bench, opening the door. Sitting on the keys is an envelope with his name in black ink. 

It reads:

My little Mischief,

You probably don’t remember, but you used to come here all the time before your mother got sick. I taught you to play piano on these very keys. I hope you still play. This house is very old, Stiles. It could use some music in its bones. So could the lake. The water flows so beautifully when it hears music. I bet even the trees would sway if they heard you play. Open the doors and let nature hear you.

With all my love,

Nona

P.S. Don’t be afraid if the lake starts to sing back.

“If- if the lake starts to sing back?” Stiles stares at the parchment, turning it around to see if there’s anything on the back. There isn’t. Just what’s single handedly the weirdest letter he’s ever received in his entire life. Lakes don’t fucking sing. And why the hell is this place so clean? Nona has been in a home for years. It just doesn't make any sense. 

Yet Stiles actually wants to play. And taking this letter as his grandmother’s last wish, he gets up and opens the french doors to the patio. And subsequently, the lake. A gust of wind rushes from the water, sending a chill deep in his bones. Stiles pulls his hoodie closer to his neck before sitting back down at the piano. His fingers brush the white and black keys as he ghosts his foot over the pedal.

Closing his eyes with a sigh, Stiles poises his hands, letting muscle memory play Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. It was always his favorite. Haunting, yet beautiful. He barely makes it two minutes through until Stiles swears he heard humming that wasn’t his own. His finger pause, not hearing it again, Stiles picks up where he left off. 

Too entranced in his own mind, Stiles doesn’t notice the humming returns. It isn’t until he’s halfway down the dock and a deep, melodic voice whispers his name- his actual name- that Stiles realizes he's stopped playing in the first place. The ethereal voice is the only music left.

“What the fuck?” Stiles squints as the fog in his brain and the mist over the lake clears walking to the edge of the creaking wood. “I didn’t even smoke yet,” he mumbles, blinking hard because there’s no way he’s seeing a head sticking out of the water. Even more impossible that it looks like the man is grinning at him. When he blinks again it’s gone. Just a few ripples in the distance making him question his sanity.

With a shake of his head, Stiles pushes off the railing of the dock to head back to the house. But the gentle sound of water breaking and the deep humming resumes, stopping him dead in his tracks. He should run, Stiles knows that. Except he turns on his heel.

“Hi,” the boy in the water says. Features too dark to make out fully despite the bright moon. But what he can see is gorgeous. “You must be Mieczysław.”

I’m sorry?

“What?”

“Cleo’s grandson, right?” He grabs the edge of the dock, pulling himself up enough to prop his arms. “I’m Theo,” his head tilts in curiosity, “was that you playing?”

What the- is he sleeping? “How do you know my name?” His real fucking name that he tells no one.

“Cleo told me about you. She said that you’d come back to me.” Theo smirks, showing off a hint of teeth before humming again and Stiles is locked in those blue eyes. It takes the realization that he can tell their color now to see he’s kneeling on the dock. “Was that you playing the piano?” He asks again. 

“Yes,” he answers, not sure why though. All Stiles knows is he wants to talk to Theo. Tell the other boy whatever he wants to know. Something in his gut telling him that it’s safe to. That Theo’s safe.

Theo smiles wider, “good.” He lifts himself up more and Stiles notices a flash of deep red and cream colored scales. “Did Cleo ever tell you about me? The siren you were made for? Who gave up a scale for you?”

Stiles gasps, a hand moving to the gold locket around his neck. Sitting on his heels, he pulls the thin chain from his shirt and opens the heart. Having had it for as long as he can remember, he knows that inside is an iridescent red scale. Then Theo pushes up farther, sure enough on his hip is a scar where it should be. “Didn’t that hurt?” 

The siren shrugs, dropping himself to his elbows again and once more, Stiles leans closer. “It did. But for you? It’s worth it.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Before she left, Cleo would tell me about you every single day. You met me once when you were a kid.” Theo smiles at the memory Stiles doesn’t have. Everything before his mom is a blank slate. “I gave you my scale myself. You were so cute. Calling yourself Mischief because you couldn’t pronounce Mieczysław and kissed my forehead to thank me.” 

Snorting, “no one can pronounce my name. I go by Stiles,” he explains, leaning closer still. His face inches away from the siren- the water.

“I wouldn’t take you as a child,” Theo tells him, putting a warm hand over Stiles’ own. “Will you come with me now?”

There’s a reason he should say no. But Stiles can’t figure out what that is. Too entranced by the gorgeous face telling him he was made for Theo. So instead he asks, “will it hurt?”

“At first. To become like me you have to drown.” Theo smiles apologetically, “but I’ll be there every step of the way. Please, Stiles, say you’ll come with me on your own. I can’t be without you any longer. I’d rather it be your own choice.”

The fuzziness in his head clears again and the song stops. But he still wants to. With the siren’s influence gone, Stiles still wants to go with Theo. The siren who gave part of his own body for him. Loved his Nona as much as he did. Is giving him a choice. No one gives Stiles options anymore, they just expect things from him.

“Yes,” Stiles entwines their fingers, “I’ll go with you.”

The siren squeezes his hand, “I’ll be here, Stiles. Come into the lake. Become like me.”

Standing up, Stiles strips down to his boxers and hangs his legs over the edge of the dock. Theo wraps his hands around his waist, helping him into the frigid water. Stiles shivers roughly. “You’ll warm up once you turn. Just put your legs around me, I’ll do all the work,” his voice is so soothing.

Nodding, Stiles does as instructed. His arms wrap around the siren’s neck to take his warmth. Fighting the chatter of his teeth, Stiles feels Theo’s tail move in the water, bringing them deeper into the lake. The siren cocks an eyebrow. “I-I’m r-ready,” Stiles shivers with a new wave of goosebumps that reach his thighs. Theo’s eyes glow green and Stiles takes a deep breath before they’re submerged.

Colder than ever before, he clings to the siren harder. “I’m right here,” Theo says clear as day. It makes Stiles’ eyes snap open, two vibrant green pools are all he can see in the blackness. Theo runs his hands along his back, calming Stiles. “I can sing for you if it’ll help.” Stiles nods, his lungs burning at their mistreatment, begging him to breathe. Smiling, Theo starts to hum the Moonlight Sonata. 

A wave of calm washes over Stiles despite the violent protest in his chest. His head is pounding from the lack of oxygen and just when the instinct to breathe kicks in, Theo crashes their mouth together. The fire in his lungs quells to a dull ache and Stiles feels like he’s going to pass out. The hands on his back never leave as his last breath rushes into the siren’s mouth. Stiles drifts off, falling into a blissful sleep where nothing hurts anymore.

When he opens his eyes everything is in sharp focus. He can see the rock and sandy floor of the lake. The small schools of fish swimming by. More than that, he remembers everything. His mom brought him here while his dad was at work. Meeting Theo. Playing the piano and giggling when the siren would sing along with him. Theo teaching him how to swim when he was young. All of it. 

And those strong arms still hold Stiles close. Gasping, he pulls back to see Theo smiling at him. He can breathe! “It worked! I-I remember you!” Holy shit! “I can breathe! And talk!”

Theo brushes their noses together, “you’re a siren now. Like me. Look,” his gaze falls to where Stiles’ legs used to be.

Now there’s a tail with purple and black scales. “Whoa!” Stiles stares, watching his dark fin wade in the water. Instinct brings his hand to his locket. But it’s gone. “Theo, your scale,” his eyes start to well though the lake carries them away.

“It’s okay,” the other siren cups his cheek, “it’s right here.” Theo taps Stiles’ hip where a singular red scale rests among the black and purple. Relief washes over him that it’s not lost but a part of him now. “Come on, let me show you my world. Our world.” Theo holds his hand out and Stiles takes it with a smile as his stomach growls. “We’ll take care of that too.”

Green eyes flash above a devilish grin and Stiles has never been more excited. Even though he knows from lore what sirens eat for food that doesn’t matter. As long as he has Theo, Stiles can’t find it in himself to care. 

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #theo x stiles #steospooktober #steospooktober vol.3 #underwater #Match Writes

[shiny-jr]

❝ ʙ ᴜ ᴛ ᴛ ᴏ ɴ s ❞

Yandere!Husband x Reader - Kade 

Note: I merely wanted to share one of my most popular oneshots from my Quotev account. Yes, it is inspired by Coraline. This story was originally published as a 1,000 follower special, so it’s quite lengthy meaning it will be split into different parts. I hope you enjoy! 

Warning: there will be violence, gore, profanity, and other things such as. You have been warned.

Part Two.

Act I

Slim, cold hands held a rag doll. The black button eyes seemed to stare into his very soul and a permanent smile had been stitched onto the doll’s lips. Carrying the plaything to his desk, he began working oh-so-diligently.

Opening his kit of tools, he placed the doll atop the center of his desk, its back overturned. Cutting clear through the small dark black clothing on the doll, the small figure was soon made bare. Nimble fingers pulled at the raven hair strands, leaving the doll bald. Proceeding with the next step, he unstitched the black button eyes and removed them from their place. Next, he cut a straight long line at the mouth, and by hand, he removed every single piece of cotton used to stuff the doll until the figure was nearly as flat as paper. Turning the figure inside out, he then added sand to replace the cotton. Threading a needle, he carefully stitched the mouth closed and made it appear like a gentle smile. Pulling open his drawers, he scanned the dozens of pairs of buttons in his storage, selecting a black medium-sized pair to fit for the eyes before stitching them into place. Gingerly he threaded each strand of (h/c) yarn to fit for hair on the doll’s head, precisely measuring each strand to make it fit perfectly.

The man hummed, voice silky and slightly deep but appealing to the ear. Continuing to hum as he worked steadily, he remained focused on the task at hand. With scissors he cut out the design of the small clothing, stitching it together and sewing it so it would be flawless. Once done, he fit the clothing onto the small doll and then placed the tiny figure on the windowsill, prepped and ready for his newest guest. 

________________________________________________

"Un, deux, trois~ Un, deux, trois~" An older man hummed as his fingers danced on the black and white keys of the piano, creating a melody with his foreign counting and humming. Smiling in accomplishment as his mind formed the next notes of the melody he would compose for his circus. "Un, deux-" Stopping abruptly as his train of thought was disrupted by the screeching of tires outside, causing him to become startled and his fingers to bang horribly against the piano keys. Scrunching up his nose in irritation, he pushed back his seat and approached the window to see who had ruined his creative thought process.

A little red car zoomed down the small dirt road, honking its greeting as it was tailed by a large moving truck. The small car disappeared around the corner of the aged house, leaving the larger automobile to park and the workers to begin unloading all the furniture and cardboard boxes as the new residents entered their new home for the first time.

The foreign man huffed and closed his curtains, wishing to ignore all the sounds of the outside world and focus on creating a masterpiece of melodies for his circus. Two elderly women who lived below used the stairs to catch a peek of all the commotion, pleasantly surprised to see the new neighbors had finally arrived. They kindly waved to the men who transported the boxes and furniture inside.

When all was inside the house, one mover held up a clipboard with a paper in need of signing. A young man inside took the ink pen and signed his name in smooth cursive. However, before he could close the door, the mover stopped and extended his hand out for a tip. The young man merely sighed and handed him a dollar bill before slamming the door shut, no longer wanting to deal with the hassle of the movers or furniture in need of unpacking.

A young woman closed the back door, deciding to take a stroll and explore the new environment. After all, it was a major change from her previous home and habitat. Shrugging the olive green jacket closer to her form, her gray cotton blouse and black jeans provided extra warmth, and the black rubber boots kept her feet clean from the mud. Stepping down from the porch, her (e/c) hues scanned the surrounding area of the garden, all dead and shriveled up. Everything was dull and almost gray, as if the life had been sucked out of all things in the area. Stepping along the cobblestone path, she analyzed the scenery. Instead of bright city streets brimming with life, her surroundings were that of gray dying woods and sad, forgotten apple carts. There was no music or endless chattering mixed with honking cars; all was silent here. Here, they hadn’t the luxury of malls and boutiques on every corner; it was at least a few miles to the closest town.

Sighing in defeat, she frowned and slowed her walking pace. The scenery wasn't a beauty to paint either; it didn't exactly spark any inspiration or motivation. Nearly jumping in surprise when a small pebble bumped against her boot, her gaze traveled to the rocks and she rose an eyebrow. "Hello...?"

Silence…  

"Anybody...?"

Only silence filled the air…

Frowning at the lack of response, the young woman picked up the small pebble that had tumbled to her feet. Weighing the rock in the palm of her hands, she eyed a set of boulders sitting along the slope of the hill beside her, she shrugged, and then tossed the stone back up to where the boulders stuck out. A pained yeowl and angry hiss emanated from behind the stones. A white cat with brown and black patches hopped atop the boulders and glared at the woman.

(Y/n) shuddered and averted her gaze, speed walking away deeper into the woods to avoid further angering the feline. However, when she stopped and turned around, the cat yowled at her from atop a stump, frightening the woman for a moment. She pouted. A staring contest ensued between her and the strange cat. "This is the worst..." Crossing her arms over her chest, in the pit of her stomach she began to feel a thick growing desire to return back to her old home. "I lost my friends, the city—comfort, and all I get in return is you? He said this would be better. How is this better...?"

The feline stared, tilting its head. A low rumble emitted from its chest, its tail swishing back and forth slowly. Its mottled fur caused it to stand out, as it was probably the most colorful thing she saw since arriving in this plain little town.

She rubbed her arms, sighing as she murmured, "At least I still have Kage. That's something, isn't it...?" In reality, she was unsure. Her marriage with Kage was still young, but she knew she loved him. Although, recently she began to wonder if that love was noticed by him. She loved him deeply, but recently he’d become so engrossed in his work that it seemed like they were drifting apart.

Kage had explained before moving to this gray town that maybe this change would be for the best. A new environment, a fresh start. Someplace for them to mend their relationship, to grow closer. A new home for them to begin anew. They even hoped the work would lessen and they could spend more time with each other. Yes, he was trying, but she feared the worst.

Blinking as she felt a drop of water, she looked up and saw the gray clouds shifting. Water droplets began to fall from the sky, creating a light drizzle. The cat scampered off, probably to find shelter from the oncoming rain. Shrugging on the hoodie of her green jacket, she jogged back to the house. Her rubber boots slipped in the mud, and she scraped her palm as she caught herself. "Damn it!" Grunting in the process as her sleeves were now dirtied and hands injured, she stood up and wiped off the mud. Great, just her luck! She already hated this place! 

________________________________________________

(Y/n) quietly shifted through some of the boxes, organizing the packed furniture in the cozy living room. However, she glanced at her husband, Kage. He was as quiet as ever, typing away on his computer. Kage was an author, a well-known one who’d published many wonderful books while he was still young. They had barely said a word to each other since arriving yesterday, and she desperately craved attention. Anything to fill the silence suffocating her. "Yesterday, I ran into a cat while I was taking a stroll. I'm pretty sure it was wild or something."

"Uh-huh..." Kage continued to type away, his pale fingers swiftly dancing across the keyboard. Never taking his gray eyes off the screen, he feared he would lose his focus. In his mind he pictured a lovely sunset at the beach and a young couple walking on the sands, a scene that was picture perfect. He blew a strand of his wavy black hair out of his vision, revealing his handsome face. The light of the screen was reflected in his smokey-gray eyes, and he anxiously bit down on his full pink lips, his well defined cheekbones highlighted by the laptop’s blue light.

"What if it was feral?"

"That's great... I mean, interesting..."

She saw he was fully invested in his writing, not giving her enough attention to respond with a proper reply. However, that did not deter her. Placing down a portrait of herself and Kage on their first date back in college, she stared at it fondly. Turning her attention back to her husband, she waltzed around the room as she mused, "Isn't it the perfect weather to go out?"

At her musing, he took one single glance outside. Beyond the large windows, rain poured, hitting the glass and drenching everything outside. "It's the perfect weather to catch a cold in," he replied, slowing his typing process. The sleeves of his white hoodie jacket drooped down his wrists onto the laptop.

Taking a seat across from him on a small cushion seat, she asked, "When was the last time we properly went out together without work?" Appearing downcast, she added with a sad frown, "Kage, isn't that why we moved here? To spend more time together?"

Kage stopped typing completely and spared his wife a brief glance. As soon as he saw her dejected frown and sad eyes, he sighed, "No- No, don't you do it. Don't give me those puppy eyes, (Y/n). You know that I—... Damn it..."

"You're great at writing romance novels, but you're not exactly a prince charming..."

"I'm charming to a certain degree, thank you very much. Please, just give me time. I'm very busy with this novel." For once he managed to ignore her pleading look. He knew she would be upset, but he needed to finish this one chapter, and then all his time would be hers. "The clothes still need unpacking, you know. To pass the time, you can finish that. I don't want to leave all the unpacking for later."

"You're no fun..." She pouted, crossing her arms in disappointment.

Remembering the strange item he found at the front door while his wife was out for a stroll, Kage reached by his feet and picked up the object resting there. He held it up for her to see, it was concealed and wrapped in newspaper. Holding it out for her to take, "You left this on the porch."

"Me?" (Y/n) accepted the item, curious about what it could be. She didn't recall forgetting any items. Most of her belongings were in her backpack or stored away in packed boxes. But curiosity has been known to kill a cat or two. Seeing that Kage had gone back to writing his novel, she unwrapped the newspaper, revealing an old fabric doll. A doll that looked oddly like her.

The color of its fabric skin was identical to her skin tone, and its black button eyes were wide and unblinking. A gentle smile graced the doll's lips, and strands of (h/c) yarn decorated its head, each one appearing to be precisely measured and fitted to make the doll more identical to her. Even its tiny clothing was exactly the same as hers: her favorite olive green jacket and current gray cotton blouse and black jeans covered its form, and on its little feet sat a matching pair of black rubber boots.  

The young woman raised an eyebrow, slightly disturbed at the uncanny similarities. "It looks like me... This isn't mine, Kage."

"Oh? Don't look at me..."

An idea popped into the woman’s head. (Y/n) smiled mischievously, lounging on the couch right beside him. Holding the doll up, she examined it thoroughly and giggled. "If it's not mine and not yours, maybe it's from a secret admirer~?"

Kage stopped completely, freezing in place. Glaring at the doll, he appeared upset and envious now. Frowning, he looked to her and muttered, "If it is, I'll beat him into the next dimension."

"I'm just kidding!" (Y/n) laughed lightly, noticing his faint blush as he turned back to the screen of his laptop. She was happy she got a reaction out of him, that he cared and was protective enough to be upset at the mere thought of his wife having a secret admirer. Although all jokes aside, she was really curious about the mysterious origins of this odd look-alike doll. "But seriously, where did this toy actually come from?"

"Don't have a clue..."

She huffed and stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles on her clothing as she declared, "You know what? I'm going to explore this house. There has to be something interesting in this dusty old place!"

Lifting one hand, he lazily waved without tearing his attention away from his work. "Good luck..."

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After spending nearly one boring hour wandering the halls and exploring her new home, she had not found a single thing of interest. The rugs were overdue for a wash and were blanketed in a layer of dust; the windows fogged up easily and leaked, dripping rainwater in the hallway; and the bathroom wall was insect-infested while the water looked rather unsanitary. She waltzed into the last explored room, a large spacious area that was probably once a guest room.

(Y/n) planned to make the entire room a library for Kage. She wanted the area to be a place where he could store his prized novels and favorite books, a room they can retreat to when looking for a moment of peace and quiet. The walls would be lined with shelves and shelves of books, and cozy seats and warm blankets would decorate the floor. So far, only a few shelves had been set up against the wall. Many of the others lay face down, waiting to be lifted up. Gathering an armful of books, she began to organize them in alphabetical order. Fingers tracing over the spine of the novels, she stopped at twenty books. Before she could gather a few more to organize, she stopped upon noticing the look-alike doll had disappeared from its place atop a few empty boxes.

(E/c) hues scanning the room, she frowned and turned. Where had it gone? Had she misplaced it? It was atop the boxes just a few minutes ago. Turning around, she noticed the little black button eyes peeking at her from behind a shelf waiting to be set up. It's lifeless eyes unmoving, the doll peered at her quietly from behind the piece of furniture. Stepping closer, she kneeled down and carefully picked up the doll. Her eyes trailed off to the side, and there against the wall she spied  a smooth bronze knob. A door knob.

She pushed aside the shelf, the closed door was revealed fully. Wallpaper covered the surface, but the knob made it obvious that an entrance was there. Tracing her fingers along the wall, she could feel the outline of the curving designs on the door while the tip of her fingers collected dust. What could this door lead to? Wishing to know immediately, she called out loud enough for Kage to hear, "Kage! There's a door over here!"

Kage groaned and rubbed his head. Just when his fingers had matched the pace of his imagination and he had a good pace, his train of thought was snapped in half by the shout from upstairs. The young man grumbled, "I'm pretty busy right now!"

Examining the keyhole, she attempted to use the knob. It squeaked as it turned just slightly but not all the way, meaning it was locked. The door refused to budge. “Kage!”

The young man winced once he was called again, further prying him from his work. Realizing she was not going to stop anytime soon, he put aside his laptop on the couch cushions and rose from his seat. Stomping across the halls into the spacious room, he examined the door his wife was so fixated on opening. Turning his gaze to (Y/n), he glared and frowned. This only served to irritate him further. He’d paused his work for a locked door?  

“Aren’t you curious too?”

“Frankly, no.” Kage replied curtly, eyeing the knob and doorway. “If I open this stupid door will you leave me alone?”

“Yes...”

The young man sighed as he fished his keys out of his pocket. Chiming and jingling, the keys shifted as he searched for the one that would open this damned door. As he looked, he mumbled to himself, “Unbelievable... Kage do this, Kage do that...”

Finally he held one single, strange-looking black key. The top was round and identical to the black buttons eyes stitched on the look-alike doll. The bottom half was thin and it fit perfectly when it slid into the keyhole. The wallpaper tore as the door was pulled back, and (Y/n) watched it open with bated breath. Her curious eyes peering at the opening door as she gripped the doll.

Creak . . .

Concrete. Just bricks and concrete filled the space behind the door. It certainly wasn’t the secret room that she had hoped for. “But...”

“Logically, it most likely would’ve led to the basement or attic where our neighbors live.” Brushing himself off, Kage tucked his keys away. “We’re done here.” Without another word he returned to the living room to resume his typing, leaving (Y/n) alone.

(Y/n) frowned, knowing he was upset at and irritated with her. Closing the door, she tossed aside the stupid doll. No longer could she go pester Kage as she promised she would leave him alone if he opened the door. All she could really do now was waste the rest of the day setting up the library. Maybe her husband would be in a better mood later on.

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. . . . . .

Tick!

Tick!

Tick!

The ticking of the clock on the wall filled the dark silence. The steady beat matched her even breaths, but she was unable to attain sleep. She was instead left to stare up at the ceiling and contemplate the events of the day.

Kage was still as busy as always; he had fallen asleep on the living room couch with his computer screen glowing and filled to the brim with pages upon pages of text. (Y/n) knew better not to wake him up, so she merely saved his file, charged the laptop, placed a pillow under his head, and wrapped him in a blanket.

While she had retired for the night in the bedroom, the look-alike doll sat perched on the nightstand. Leaning against the lamp, it lay limp but continued to watch the woman with its black button eyes, even as she shifted on her side and reached for the small framed photo on the nightstand.

(Y/n) admired the photo, missing the moments and memories of the past. How things used to be. Before Kage became an author—when he was just a bookworm in college. When he had so much time to spare and spent it all on her, when he used to be so shy but affectionate instead of distant like now, when they felt so close—like nothing could ever tear them apart. (Y/n) longed for those days.

Creak . . .

The wooden door slowly opened, the old hilts creaking as a dim light seeped through the slim crack. Gingerly placing down the framed photo, she sat up and raised an eyebrow. “Kage...?”

. . .

No answer. Deciding to investigate, she slipped off the bed and slid on her slippers. Shrugging on a jacket over her short-sleeved shirt, the hem of her long loose pants brushed her bare ankles. Stepping into the hallway, she whispered, “Kage? Are you up here...?”

. . .

Looking left then right, she spotted the guest room at the end of the hall. Straight ahead, she saw the hidden door opened a crack. She was perplexed, as she was certain she had closed it shut. Curiosity filling her, she decided to venture forward to close it. Lighting flashed outside illuminating the room, thunder shook the ground. Still she reached forward and turned the knob, pulling the door back. There were no concrete or bricks obstructing her view like before, instead the door led out into a slim lengthy hallway that glowed a reddish pink. Like something out of one of her husband’s fantasy novels.

It felt like something or someone was calling to her from the other side. This was a dream. That was it, and nothing more. Mustering up her courage, she stepped inside. Each time she took a footstep, the ground beneath her feet glowed red. The deeper she traveled, the more she noticed tiny petals fluttered and rained down from above. A faint breeze brushed by, carrying a few petals along the way. Warm and gentle like a hug, its warmth beckoning her further inside.

When she reached the other end, she carefully pushed the door open and crossed the threshold. The space she now found herself in looked nearly identical to her own soon-to-be-library, however, the design was somewhat different. There was a plush couch set in front of a roaring fireplace alight with warm, red and orange flames. Lights were hung on the walls, and their dim glow was an inviting yellow. Strings dangled from the lights, holding clipped polaroid photos. Upon closer inspection, she realized the photos were of her and Kage. Pictures of memories from their first meeting in the college library, their first date at a local cafe, shopping and picking out clothes for each other, reading at home by the warm fireplace. In each photo (Y/n) could be seen as clear as day, but Kage’s alluring smoke-colored hues were concealed by a pair of dark sunglasses or hoodie.

Raising an eyebrow at the space she entered, she felt a slight tinge of worry. This was most definitely not her soon-to-be library. Kage wouldn’t leave his work to decorate. She waited for something, anything to awake her from this fantasy where she would jolt up in bed and think, What a strange dream.

“Every day, I imagine a future where I can be with you~ In my hand is a pen that will write a poem of me and you~” A voice sang. The tone was so familiar: silky, slightly deep, but very appealing to the ear. Complimenting the ringing of the piano’s melody, the lovely tune drifted throughout the house. “The ink flows down into a dark puddle... Just move your hand- write the way into her heart~!”

(Y/n) took quiet steps, following the lullaby-like melody that lured her deeper into the home. Her furry slippers muffled the creaking of wood beneath her feet. Her (e/c) hues examined the walls of the hallways, decorated as they were with beautiful framed paintings and photos all from memories of which she was fond of. Prying her gaze away, she stopped at an open room, the source of the singing. Peeking in, she spotted a familiar figure seated at a piano, his back to her and his slim fingers dancing along the black and white keys.

“But in this world of infinite choices, what will it take just to find that special day? What will it take just to find that special day~?”

(Y/n) blinked when the music stopped, his fingers pausing a top the piano’s keys and his beautiful voice fading into the air. Seeing the figure turn to face her, she was finally able to examine this man’s features. Strands of wavy black hair rolled down his neck like a waterfall and were partly brushed to the side to reveal his hues. Full lips a shade of light pink that curled into a smile and well-defined cheekbones complimented his facial structure. This man was identical to her husband Kage, yet one thing was off. Those stunning gray hues she loved to admire, were replaced with black button eyes.

“Ah, you’re finally awake, (Y/n)!” The doppelgänger smiled welcomingly, standing from his seat. He wore a white hoodie and tangerine colored cargo pants with simple yellow tennis shoes. Even his clothing matched her husband’s usual sense of style, but this was not her husband Kage. “Please, tell me what you think. Did you like the song I wrote for you? I spent quite some time thinking about it, attempting to properly convey my feelings with a sweet melody.”

“Who are you...? You’re not Kage, he doesn’t have...” (Y/n) took a step back, eyeing the young man with suspicion, unable to look away from his black button eyes.

He smiled fondly at her, pointing to the objects that had caught her attention. “Buttons? Do you like them?” Noticing her concerned frown and hesitance, he cooed, “Did you hit your head, dear? My name is Kade, not Kage. I’m your other husband~” When he reached her, he gently rubbed her head, his nimble fingers weaving through her locks before he lightly tapped her nose, “Boop!” Chuckling at her flustered expression before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, he added, “I’d never dream about hurting even a single hair on your pretty little head~”

(Y/n) was rigid, still in place. She did not reel away. No, instead she felt a familiar warmth budding in her chest. The heat that had warmed her when Kage used to give her affection when their relationship had just begun. Gazing up at him with question, she raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean other husband...?”

“Dear, you are my precious wife.” Tussling locks of her hair, he continued his explanation. “Everyone has a significant other.” Hands trailing down, he intertwined his long slim fingers with hers and smiled lovingly at her. “I knew you were going to wake up hungry, so I took the liberty of making you a late dinner. Come on, let’s hurry before our meal gets cold.”

(Y/n) was led through the hallways, following this strange man that very much resembled her husband. There’s no way these spacious rooms and extensive hallways resided all within the home, it was impossible. This had to be a dream. A dream in which her mind conjured someone like her husband, possibly as a result of her lonesomeness and lack of Kage’s attention.

The kitchen was warm. Dark coffee colored bricks of the wall matched the mocha counters and iron gray kitchen utensils. Lights hung from above, reflecting against the surface of the center table which was smooth black marble, and each chair was cushioned with a pillow. A heavenly scent of freshly cooked food wafted in the air, it smelled simply divine and nearly made her mouth water.

Kade lifted her hand he held, guiding her to one of the seats around the counter. Like a gentleman he helped her into her seat. However, as soon as she was seated, he took a glance at her and smiled. Lifting her hand up, he placed a kiss on the back of her hand before taking a strand of her hair between his fingers, it curled around his thumb as he hummed, “I hope you're hungry. I’ve made enough for a king’s feast!”

The odd button-eyed man proceeded to gather plates and the meal he had cooked. Leaving (Y/n) to simply stare and wonder at the odd scenario she was in. The young woman examined the kitchen once more. It was squeaky clean and flowers seemed to decorate every corner, either in vases or simply sprouting from somewhere. This was a beautiful kitchen, like a remodeled version of the one in the house she moved it.

(Y/n) perked up once she heard humming. The man named Kade hummed the same song he sang earlier, his hands busily working on the final preparations for dinner. Laying out silver utensils on a white cloth napkin, with plates so clean one could see their own reflection, topped with an empty glass for wine. Finally, the main course. In the middle of the counter he set a large plate of spaghetti with meatballs, a bowl of salad off to the side, a basket of bread, with a small tray of various pastas. And with so many more delectable choices laid out in front of her, just for her choosing.

(Y/n) merely blinked at the sight before her, shocked beyond words. Her husband never did anything like this. Kage always forgot to eat with how his job occupied all his time. Even if he did occasionally remember, the most he would do was heat up instant ramen. “You... You did this?”

“Of course, who else would? I couldn't just let you go hungry." Kade chuckled as he poured her a bit of red wine that matched the palette of the diming lights, red and pink illuminated the entirety of the kitchen as the love song he wrote by hand magically played on harp strings originating from some unknown source.

The scent of the home cooked meal smacked her sense of smell, causing her to look down at the multitude of plates once again. It all appeared so delectable, as if it had taken hours to prepare it all. It made her stomach grumble, causing her to low her gaze in embarrassment.

He laughed lightly, amused at her timid behavior and cheeks red with embarrassment. "Don't be shy, darling~ Eat as much as your little heart desires." Swiftly he served her a plate of the main course, the spaghetti. The dish was topped with the perfect amount of smooth red sauce, meatballs perfectly spherical andhinted with tiny herbs that had been gently sprinkled over the top.

It did look appetizing, and she really did wish to try just a bite. It appeared so much better than sloppy mashed potatoes and a soggy sandwich she had for dinner. As the odd button-eyed man sat down and served his own meal, she failed to notice his observant gaze. Instead, she picked up her fork and twirled the tip of it on the plate, collecting a few strands of the spaghetti. Hesitantly she sniffed it, still cautious, yet nothing smelled off. So with her hunger gaining the best of her, she tasted the bit on the kitchen utensil. It's taste was simply divine, better than anything she had ever tasted before. Bright (e/c) eyes trailing up to the young man, she swallowed the portion in her mouth and commented in delight before she could eagerly fork more of the meal, "This is so good! How did you make this?"

"With a determined mindset and... oh, something else too. But I can't really reveal that..." Gaze traveling away to the opposite wall, a small pout etched onto his pink lips.

Lowering her fork as she took another bite, curious about what he could possibly mean. "Why can't you tell me?"

Knowing his little facade worked, he smirked playfully and rolled his eyes as he drawled, "Well... It's a secret ingredient. I use it in every meal and it works like a charm, making every dish perfectly flavorful and savory..."

Intrigued by his words, and she did not miss that playful smirk. Raising an eyebrow in interest, she propped her head up, knuckles supporting her chin. "Hm... Now I'm really curious. Can't you tell me? I won't tell another soul, promise."

"Well, I suppose since you are my wonderful wife, it's only right that you knew...~" Finally his gaze traveled back to her as he looked left then right, before leaning in close after he saw no one else was around. His positive features turned serious as his black-button eyes locked onto her (e/c) hues, whispering quietly, "I'm about to reveal to you a great secret, one for you and you only, dear. Are you ready to hear this valuable piece of information?"

Eagerly she nodded, entranced yet a bit disturbed by his buttoned gaze. Managing to respond meekly, "Yes, I am."

"The secret ingredient... is my love for you!" He grinned, planting a quick kiss on her nose while she was entranced into the moment. Black button eyes watching realization dawn onto her, her cheeks flushing red again but the slight smile on her lips proved her bashful joy. His words only furthered the embarrassment for her, "Isn't my love so sweet? It's only available for you, and I do everything for you whole-heartedly~"

After (Y/n) was over her initial embarrassment, she remembered Kage still had to finish writing his novel. She hated for the moment to end, this was the most fun and attention she had in such a long time, but he must’ve been busy. “We should probably finish soon... I know you’re busy with your book, and I wouldn’t want to bother you for too long.”

“Hm? Oh, don’t you worry, dear. I’ve already finished writing, so my attention and time is all yours.” He smiled reassuringly, ignoring his meal as hegaze was glued to her form. Humming lightly, basking in the moment where nothing was said and his song continued to play gently in the background.

(Y/n) felt slightly unnerved by his unwavering gaze, forcing herself to look away, at anything else as she was uncomfortable staring into his button eyes. It served as a reminder that this was some strange wacky dream. Unable to continue her meal, she wiped her hands on the white napkin before momentarily glancing back at him, his gaze still concentrated on her while a smile played at his lips. “Is... Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no! I just... can’t help but admire you. I truly am the luckiest man on the face of the earth, to be wed to such a perfect woman~ I'm very happy to be with you again, (Y/n)."

Unsure about the entire ordeal as he gently took her hand, choosing her choice of words cautiously. "Again...? I'm sorry, but Kage is the only husband-"

"I am your other husband!" Kade stated, emphasizing his words. There was a brief sign of visible irritation and impatience before it vanished in an instant. Calmly he stood, his slim pale fingers carefully tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I've always been existent, but I've never been noticed by you. Finally, I've been blessed with the chance to greet you. After all this time, I welcome you home, my dear~" Behind him, lights twinkled like stars, almost like tiny fireflies floating through the air. Magically with the dim white light, a phrase was spelled out in neat fancy cursive, "Welcome home!"

Red flags. This entire situation was unsettling, and the way he momentarily held anger frightened her. Pulling away from his touch, she stood from her seat and took a few steps back. Wearing a small smile to conceal her nervousness as she managed slowly, "I see. Um... I'm actually kinda tired right now. You know, with unpacking and moving the furniture." This wasn't right, she had to leave. This Kade figure was posing as her husband, and it was wrong.

Standing upright, he blinked before nodding in understanding and smiling so lovingly. Linking his arm with hers, he led her away from the kitchen and through the hallways. "Of course, of course! Say no more, darling. Let's go, let me take you to our bedroom."

"Right..." For a moment she did not believe him. A shared room? It sounded far-fetched. Technically, she did share a room with Kage, but he always fell asleep in the living room or another room so it wasn’t like they slept beside each other. “Okay, that sounds... normal...?”

When Kade pushed open a door, she was taken aback by the contents inside. It was dim, illuminated by the same familiar floating lights from the kitchen that twinkled and sparkled gently. It was decorated neatly and a perfect cozy place. With one corner topped with dozens of Polaroid photos, the young man with her in the photos had his eyes concealed yet again.

Pulling back the soft covers of the bed, he allowed her to hesitantly lay down on the plush mattress. She wasted no time in pulling the blanket to her chin, resting her head on the pillow. About to flutter her eyes shut in an attempt to end this dream, but she stopped when she saw Kade kneel to his face was at level with hers. “Uh... Thank you for the meal, I guess I'll go to bed now...?”

"Wait a moment, love. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Kade took her hand, his black-button eyes glimmering in the dim light as he examined the cut and scrape against her palm. The injury from when she fell as she explored earlier. Tsking as he shook his head, chuckling lightly as he picked a bottle from the nightstand drawer. Sprinkling a few droplets on her hand, he hummed, "You're so clumsy, dear~ What would you do without me?"

(Y/n) pressed themselves closer to the bed, using the blanket to cover herself from her toes to her nose, peeking out as she remained anxious under the odd man's watchful gaze. Averting her gaze, breaking the eye contact as she pulled her treated hand underneath the safety of the warm covers. "Thank you again... and goodnight...?"

Kade merely tilted his head. No longer was his expression innocent and joyful, his smile seemed somewhat strained,as if it would break its positive curl at any given moment. However, again it was gone in an instant, and he hummed in delight. “Goodnight, my dear. Sleep tight~”

. . .

(Y/n) had closed her eyes and everything went dark, she had fallen asleep almost instantly. Only when she fluttered her eyes open, feeling groggy and sluggish as she did not wish to leave her bed.

“Huh...”

Slowly she sat up, looking around only to see the walls practically bare and the room nearly empty. Much of the furniture had yet to be unpacked, still lying dormant in the many boxes littering and stacked on the floor.

It was a dream, she realized. An odd dream.

The young woman scratched her head, her fingers becoming tangled in the mess of her bedhead. Blinking sleepily as she stretched, a yawn escaping past her lips. (E/c) hues traveled across her dull room, only now noticing the look-alike doll propped up against the lamp on the nightstand. Its black-button eyes were similar to the man's own strange eyes from her dreams, that just seemed to stare her down. A bit unnerved, she reached over and picked up the doll, eyebrows furrowed as he recalled the details from her dream. It felt so strange and odd, but the attention was nice and the man named Kade seemed well-mannered.

(Y/n) sighed and placed down the doll atop of her sheets, mind wandering into what she had experienced into her sleep. Unconsciously she scratched her hand, eyes slowly trailing down to the flesh on her palm, only to see it completely clean and injury-free. No cuts and no scratches, the injury was gone. She gasped and examined her own skin, recalling it was the exact spot where Kade had applied that ointment to treat her wound. "How did...?"

She ran out of her room, hurrying to the guest room in which she planned to be a library. The same room in which the strange door was located, the one in which she traveled through in her dreams. Staying quiet to make sure she didn't accidentally awake Kage if he was still asleep downstairs. As soon as she reached the door, she swung it open, expecting to see that magic hallway that glowed red and pink. "Aha!-..."

Concrete and bricks greeted her, making her smile vanish and causing her to go silent. That... That was impossible! As if choosing not to believe the fact the entryway was concealed, she pressed her hand against the surface. Her healed palm touching the firm surface, clear evidence that there was no magic hallway. Slowly she closed the door, puzzled still at this predicament she found herself in. Was she going crazy believing in only a fantasy from her dreams, or was Kade actually real?

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The kettle boiled, whistling as steam escaped with the increasing heat until her husband removed it from the stove. As he continued to make his morning tea to freshen him and prepare himself for another full day of writing. The young man remained silent at the counter as his wife spoke of a vivid dream she had.

"It just felt so... real! You were there, but you weren't really you. It was like a carbon copy that called himself Kade!"

"Buttons for eyes, hmm?" Kage poured himself a cup of tea, raising an eyebrow as he saw her nod. Taking another momentary glance at her as he sighed, "Interesting, I suppose... Certainly creepy, but interesting." Taking his seat at the table, he took a sip from his tea, allowing the warm liquid to soothe his nerves and stresses. "(Y/n), are you sure you just weren't so hungry that you dreamt of that meal?"

Swallowing the bite she had taken of her muffin, she replied, "I was not hungry!" She huffed, stirring the straw in the cup of her morning beverage. She continued on the topic of her dream, recalling the choice of clothing Kade wore and what he did throughout the dream. "You were also playing the piano too, and you had these tangerine-colored cargo pants on!"

Kage frowned, wincing in disgust as he placed down his cup, "Tangerine? Ugh... Dream version of me has no style. I've learned all my style from you. If it's not good enough, I won't wear it. And I most definitely would not wear tangerine cargo pants." He scoffed, rolling his eyes as a slight smirk formed on his lips, "You should share some of that magical ointment with me. There's a chance it could clear up this writer's block I have."

(Y/n) smiled, rolling her eyes slightly. She could imagine him wearing those tangerine cargo pants. More importantly, she was glad she could have such a calming peaceful moment with her husband. This was the first time they shared breakfast in months. This moment was really needed, it eased her worries and stresses. Before she could speak up and continue their pleasant conversation, she watched Kage stand and carry his tea with him. "Where are you going?"

"Back to work, my novel won't write itself." The ravenette picked up his newspaper and other papers holding scribbled notes. Looking through what he had written with his free hand, humming lightly as he admitted, "Although, your dream you told me about just gave me an excellent idea! I have to go write this down before I forget!"

"What am I supposed to do now...?" (Y/n) sighed, throwing away the wrapper of her muffin and mindlessly twirling the straw in her beverage. Slouching slightly, she used her hand to prop up her head by her chin. Perking up when she heard Kage shuffling in the living room, calling out a response before he would become silent because of his work.

"Why not go introduce yourself to the neighbors downstairs? You should go on our behalf. It would be rude if one of us didn't say hello."

The young woman recalled the married ladies downstairs. They were old and strange, but welcoming and kind, yet it seemed they bickered often. "Didn't you say they were crazy?" To be completely honest, those two were a great deal different from her last neighbors. Standing up, she placed her cup in the sink to wash later. When she did not receive a reply, she called out once more, "Are you even listening to me?" She peeked out into the living room, spotting Kage completely engrossed in his novel already with his eyes glued to the screen and fingers already typing away.

It was too late, he was already lost in his work. The only thing left to do was do as Kage advised and that was to visit the old married couple and introduce herself on her and Kage's behalf. 

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(Y/n) shut the front door behind her, stopping when her foot hit something that was laid out on the front porch. Looking down, she was puzzled when she saw a small stack of packages was what she hit. Eagerly picking it up, she imagined gifts sent from her friends back home only to see across the top it was addressed to someone by the name of Yakovich. Shuffling through each one, every package had the same name. "Yakovich, Yakovich, Yakovich, Yakovich..."

Abruptly a strange scent smacked her senses, causing her to raise her eyebrows and eye the packages she held. Holding the packages higher up closer to her face, she sniffed and reeled back once the pungent odor wafted through her nostrils. "Ew!" The look of disappointment from before was replaced with disgust as she lowered the packages in her arms. If she recalled correctly, a man with the same surname that was printed on the packages, happened to live upstairs in the attic space.

Well, she supposed now was a better chance than ever. Might as well go introduce herself to both the upstairs and downstairs neighbors. Traveling up the stairs on the side of the house, she kept the packages far from her face and turned her head away to avoid smelling whatever was inside with the horrible smelling contents. Once on the high porch, she knocked on the wooden door. Waiting a moment before calling out, "Uh... Hello? Your packages got left at our door!..." She took a step back, waiting patiently for a minute or two before leaning against the entrance to see if she could hear anything. "Would you like me to leave it here or-? Ah-!"

The door swung open with her weight, revealing a dark disorganized space only illuminated by a window and a dim lamp. Abruptly a man appeared behind the door just as the young woman stumbled up. The man stepped out quickly and slammed the door shut, "Secret! Famous jumping mouse circus not ready!"

(Y/n) stood up straight, eyeing the strange man. This was the guy named Yakovich who lived in the attic...? He spoke with an accent. He looked as if he hadn't seen the sun's light in months, his skin was dry and pale with tired bags underneath his eyes. Tall but lanky and slim, and wore a simple old white undershirt turned yellow overtime with jeans that were dirtied with unwashed food stains.

"Circus...?" She snapped her stare away from the man standing in front of his door, remembering the reason why she had come up here in the first place. "Oh, but I brought up your packages."

For a moment he appeared disinterested until she mentioned the packages he had been expecting. A grin spread across his lips and replaced his disinterested frown, partly concealed by his mustache. Eagerly he snatched the packages, relishing in the odor that emitted from the boxes. Murmuring something in a foreign language as he smiled in content.

"Huh...?" For a moment she was concerned, was Kage correct saying that the neighbors were crazy?

"New cheese samples." Yakovich clarified as he placed down the packages, popping his fingers as he stretched his bony arms upwards. Then picking up one box, he leaned forward toward the girl and scolded, "Very clever using this mix-up to sneak my home and peek at mushkas!"

"Umm... Mushkas?" She racked her brain for some help on foreign language, she didn't quite recognize the word.

The neighbor nodded firmly, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the door. "The mice!" He then stretched, shifting his arms from side to side.

"Al... Alright..." Perhaps this was the best time to introduce herself, it was now or never. "Uh... my name is (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n). I'm sorry my husband Kage couldn't introduce himself, he's been busy with work lately."

He nodded, stopping his stretches as he extended his arms out wide and announced, "I am the stupendous Yakovich! But you, you may call me Mr. Y. Stupendous already know that I am!" This man was certainly... interesting to put it nicely. "Here is the predicament, little one, my songs I wrote go: oompaoompa! But tiny jumping mice only play toodle-too, like that! Is nice, but not so much stupendous. So now I switch to stronger cheese and soon! Wham!" Abruptly he picked up his packages and pulled a beetroot from his pocket, placing the vegetable in the girl's hands, "Have beet, make you strong." Mr. Y kicked open his door and backed inside, bowing as he stepped back, "Dasvidaniya, (Y/n)."

Just like that, Yakovich disappeared inside him home, slamming the close door as the bell on the door frame chimed. (Y/n) blinked, unsure what to make after that strange encounter. Looking at the beetroot, she tossed it over the railing and jogged down the steps. Walking along the dark grass surrounding the home, she stopped in her tracks upon hearing a voice.

"Hey, (Y/n)!"

The young woman looked up just in time to see the odd man swing effortlessly on the railings and metal stairs until he landed flawlessly beside her. Yakovich leaned closer, whispering breathlessly as he stated, "The mice asked me to give you word message."

"The... jumping mice?"

"They are saying-" He looked left then right, making sure no one was listening in as he continued in quieter whisper, "Do not travel through strange door."

(Y/n) gasped lightly, blinking in disbelief. How would they know that she...?

Mr. Y shrugged, inquiring curiously, "Do you know such a thing?"

The only strange door she could think of was the one in the guest room. The one in which she traveled through last night, where she met Kade and that strange world. "The one behind the wallpaper...?" She thought about it for a moment. When she had checked it for the first time upon arriving and even the time this morning, "It's all covered up. I can't enter it even if I wanted to."

"So sorry, it's nothing." Mr. Y brushed off the warning from the mice as he shrugged, slowly climbing the metal steps as he mused, pointing to his head for emphasis on his words, "Sometimes the mice are little mixed up." The young woman watched him as he strolled atop the high patio to his door. He continued, "They even get your husband's name wrong, you know? They call him Kade, not Kage. Not Kage at all!" He threw up his hands before returning inside his home, "Maybe I work them too hard."

(Y/n) stood for a moment watching the still door and empty high patio. Frowning lightly, she decided to brush it off for now and continue her task of introducing herself to the neighbors. Now, only the two old women who lived in the basement were left. Brushing down the wrinkles on her outfit, she hopped down the steps that led to the front door of the elderly couple's abode. Intaking a deep breath, she dearly hopped Kage wasn't right about these two like how his predictions were correct about Mr. Y. Lifting her hand, she reached forward and tapped her knuckles against the wood-

"Woof! Woof!!"

She stumbled back, frightened at the sudden movement. Little dogs, black Scottish Terriers, jumped up and clawed at the door as their barking alerted their owners to the guest at their door. As soon as the door clicked opened, the three little dogs scattered into the open towards the guest. Jumping up, they panted and rested their front paws on her leg, eager for a pat or scratch behind the ear.

"Oh, cease your infernal yapping!" The old woman scolded, watching as her pets began to settle down and simply circle and sniff the guest. She stepped back, using her cane for support as she gave a smile with wrinkled dimples to the young woman, "How nice to meet you dear! My, what a lovely sight you are. Do come in." Copper-colored locks were short and brushed to her lower neck, tucked in by the fuzzy green coat she wore which matched the makeup she wore.

As she took a step back, (Y/n) followed the elderly woman inside to the small dark hallway, closing the front door once she made sure all three dogs had returned inside. Giving a smile, relieved that the old woman seemed normal at least. "You must be Agatha. I remember the contractor mentioned you."

"Ah, yes! Wilma, put the kettle on!!" The old woman smiled welcoming to the young girl, sending her a wink before shuffling past the red curtains.

(Y/n) hesitated as her eyes landed on an old board advertising an act of two stunning women. The lady on the left was short and had beautiful wavy red hair that curled around her ears and shoulders, while the one on the right was tall and had magnificent blonde locks that ran down to her hips like a waterfall. Beside the red-head was the name, Agatha! and by the blond was the name, Wilma! Slowly she removed her jacket, no longer needing it now that it was warm down in this basement. Pushing past the red curtains, she could then see that her initial thoughts were incorrect and Kage was spot on once again.

Inside was a large living space, where the trio of pups immediately rushed to claim spots on the velvet sofa. Vintage music played in the background, matching the dim lighting and giving off a calming chill air to the whole place.

An elderly woman stumbled out of the kitchen, placing her glasses on to assist her in her vision as she eyed the stranger, "Agatha, I think you're being followed!"

"It's the new neighbor, Wilma." Agatha explained as she shuffled towards the velvet seats, leading the guest along the way. (Y/n) shyly offered a greeting wave to the other woman, before the copper-haired woman continued, "Her name is (Y/n)."

(Y/n) eyed each poster and old advertising board, noticing that each and every one of them depicted the same two young ladies, the red-head and blondie. Perhaps those were the elderly couple in their prime, back when they performed in shows at theaters.

"She'll be having the oolong tea!"

Wilma protested, picking the beverage, "No, no, no, I'm sure she'd prefer jasmine." Adjusting her glasses, she could now better see the young guest, noticing and admiring her shining locks and bright youthful eyes. Turning to see her partner frowning in disagreement.

"No, oolong."

The white-haired old woman ignored her, deciding as she picked up an extra cup. Turning away so she could not see Agatha's eye-roll and annoyance, "Jasmine it is then!"

Agatha shuffled over to the velvet couch, waving her pets to move as she urged, "Come on, off with you, boys!"

“I’m sorry my husband Kage couldn’t join us.” Now that the couch was empty, (Y/n) took her seat and placed her coat beside her. Eyes wandering the room, she finally took notice of the shelves lining the walls on each side of the couch. “He’s been so busy with work lately, and—“ Eyes going wide, she gaped at the realistic figures of Scottish Terriers dressed in white cloth and topped with a plastic golden halo over their heads. There were so many of them lining the shelves, it was unnerving as she saw each were even in different poses. "Are those dogs real...?"

"Ah, that’s alright, dear! And those? Those are our sweet departed angels~ Couldn't bear to part with them,” Agatha took her own seat on a single couch. She spoke so casually about her dead pets that it was scary. Smiling lightly as she sat just in front of the shelves, “so we had them stuffed.” Proudly she gestured to the stuffed dog corpses, beginning to list off the names of the pets, “There was Amish the Third, and—“

Drowning out that disturbing conversation, the young woman saw Wilma approaching. The new neighbor now wary of the tray the elderly lady placed down, a bit more than concerned after hearing that the old couple kept their dead pets.

”Oh, go on, have some.” Wilma slid the tray forward, posing dramatically as she boasted, “It’s hand-pulled taffy from Brighton. Best in the world!”

(Y/n) picked a small round pastel colored piece of candy, surprised to see as soon as she picked the singular piece, the bowl and other pieces came right along with it. She continued to ignore the dog names Agatha listed,while attempting to pry off the single little piece. Seeing that each movement was like quicksand, it became stickier until she accidentally flung it upwards and it stuck to the ceiling like glue.

”I’ll read them if you like?” Agatha smirked mischievously, catching her off guard.

The young woman blinked, realizing she had missed some of what she said. “Read what...?”

“Oh, your tea leaves, dear!” As if planning this to happen, the copper-haired elderly pulled a small top hat from beside her. Placing the hat on her head, she continued, “It’ll reveal your future!” Agatha watched as the new neighbor seemed unsure, but the elderly woman encouraged, “Go on, go on! Drink up! Not all of it though!”

Deciding why the hell not, she went along and picked up her teacup from the tray. Holding it delicately as she downed the warm fresh liquid, drinking drown to the last drops until the very bottom of the teacup was filled just a bit.

“Now let’s see what fate has in store for you!” Agatha took the teacup from her hands, squinting down as she moved the cup so the remnants swished back and forth. The dim lighting cast an eerie glow on her wrinkled face and chubby cheeks. The copper-haired woman gasped, “Ohhh... Oh, (Y/n)! (Y/n), my dear, dear, dear child! You are in grave danger!”

Wilma reached over and snatched the top hat, mistaking it for the teacup. Noticing the poor young woman’s frightened reaction as she scolded her partner, “Oh, give me that cup, Agatha! Your eyesight is going!”

”My eyesight?” Agatha scoffed, offended at the mere thought. Grabbing Wilma by her coat sleeve, turning her to face her and taking back her top hat as she snapped back, “You’re blind as a bat!”

The white-haired old woman ignored the insult as she accepted the teacup, placing on her glasses which she squinted through to properly examine the tea leaves. “Let’s see, let’s see... Ah! Not to worry, child! It’s good news!” Wilma assured as she readjusted her glasses, taking a better look as she announced, “I see a tall handsome beast in your future? But... aren’t you married already?”

”I am! I can’t picture myself with anyone other than my husband.” She attempted to brush off her prediction of her future. Perhaps it was better if she hadn’t allowed them to read her fate in the first place.

Agatha rolled her eyes, pulling on Wilma’s sleeve again as she received the teacup back. Pointing out the spots as she clarified, “Wilma, you’re holding it wrong. See? Danger!”

(Y/n) watched as the old couple squinted to analyze the bottom of the teacup, both with their own opinion on what it meant. Although, she was curious, “What do you see?”

”I see a very peculiar hand...!”

Wilma huffed, turning the cup around as she replied, “Well I see a giraffe!”

Dismissing the thought, Agatha hopped off her chair, “Giraffes just don’t fall from the sky, Wilma!”

”Well, what do you ladies recommend I do?”

The two elderly ladies began to list their own superstitions, warning the young woman as they discreetly pushed each other to be at the center of attention.

”Never wear green in your dressing room!”

”Acquire a very tall step ladder!”

”And be very very careful-! Now! Was there something you came to tell us?”

(Y/n) shook her head no in response as they leaned forward in interest. Standing from her seat and picking up her coat, she watched as the trio of pups jumped at the opportunity to settle themselves on the couch. “No, I guess not... But thank you for the tea, it was very nice meeting you.”

”Toodle-oo!”

”Cherry-bye!”

The young woman made her way to the exit, shrugging on her coat as she stepped into the dark hallway. She could hear the elderly couple begin to chat away, bickering once again. The noise of their voices conversing only vanished once she exited the basement and stepped up the concrete steps into the foggy day.

Stepping along, she noticed that with each step the fog swished from beneath her feet and below her knees like a blanket of clouds decided to cover the earth like snow. Fishing her phone from her pocket, she checked the time. Only an hour had passed, it was now 9:45 in the morning. It wasn't likely that she would get another moment with Kage like that unless he took a rare break at a random time, or until the next morning as he was preparing his tea. Sighing, she kicked the dirt with her rubber boots, kicking a rock that struck something in the distance.

"Hisss!" A familiar puff of fur jumped up onto a fallen tree, angrily yeowling and hissing at the young girl.

She must've kicked a rock or pebble to the cat on accident, she realized. It wasn't her fault, it's not like she noticed the feline with all the fog on the ground. As she stepped closer, the cat arched it's back, warning the human to stay away. "Oh, stop it. I'm not gonna do anything. Scaredy cat." (Y/n) scoffed, crouching down so she looked up at the stray. "Come to visit? I don't have any food for you."

The cat slowly relaxed, the feline steadily sitting down on the mossy bark. Only now did she notice this cat had different colored eyes, one was yellow and the other was blue. It’s unwavering gaze concentrated on her.

”Don’t tell me you’re a neighbor too? That makes you the fourth one.” She held her head up, propped up by her palms as she looked up at her supposed neighbor.

The stray cat licked its paw, no longer interested in the human. A light purr emitting from its chest, prying its gaze away.

(Y/n) huffed, crossing her arms as she stood, "You don't listen either, you're just like him. At least, you both don't listen for long..." Seeing the feline look at her once again, she was not surprised to see him jump off the fallen tree and disappear underneath the blanket of fog, only his tail poking out marking his location as he wandered off. Leaving her alone once again.

End of Act I 

#yandere #yandere guy #yandere male #yandere scenario #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere author #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere au #coraline #shinyjr #shiny-jr #yandere husband #buttons

[neonponders]

*sigh* catch me projecting on a Saturday.

I read this post ( @lazybakerart you wizard - ALSO IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY?????? HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹) and am now thinking about a sugardaddy!Billy with an ace!Steve. (*emphasis on grey ace*)

* Please nobody attack me for writing about leather fashion. I’m vegetarian and it’s fiction. Live a little. *

Read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

Steve just kind of stared at the box on the restaurant table. It wasn’t a ring box, but it was velvet. Goodness knew how many of these he’d seen in his life.

Steve knew wealth. He knew money, and all of the material variations therein.

He’d gotten pedicures with his mother before his father declared such a thing unfit for a boy coming into puberty. If you look like a man, act like a man. As if men didn’t have feet, or something.

Then he went to the salon. That wasn’t so easy to take away. Ventures with her son seemed to be the only things keeping Mrs. Harrington from being connected to her husband’s hip, so Mr. Harrington let them both have this one. Steve, fresh out of graduation, being given a hairdresser’s chair to accomplish summer-fresh highlights.

Mrs. Harrington was also the type of woman to enjoy shoes. Everyone has a thing. For some, they had bags. Others, jewelry. Vintage furniture. Designer wallpaper. Mrs. Harrington enjoyed shoes. It was where Steve learned to carry a woman’s bags, but he didn’t stay outside of the store. He learned how to clean suede, the difference between a 130 So Kate and an ordinary heel. What fetish meant in terms of fashion. He can convert heels sizes in millimeters to inches faster than a cashier calculating change.

Tommy and Carol had joked about Steve’s father having a different kind of fetish. Nothing to do with fashion, and everything to do with sex. Steve had foolishly let them into his mother’s bedroom and they were having a field day with a shoe closet that cost more than both of their houses combined. Still smelling of Nancy and pool chlorine, Steve as good as ended that friendship right there.

Because they didn’t get it.

Mr. Harrington certainly didn’t get it. Could never have such a sexual inclination because he didn’t understand pampering or indulgent interests.

He understood favors. Material apologies.

Mrs. Harrington had a collection of pearls and diamonds that she never wore.

Steve knew she liked opals and pink, pink rubies, because Steve liked opals too. Because he used his father’s money to buy ruby studs his mother actually wore. Because he gets her oldest, broken bracelet with green amber fixed, and she wears it until it breaks again. And then she presented Steve with a thin, gold chain to go around his ankle. With a gleaming, green amber stone flanked by two opals.

The green goes with our eyes, she said. Someone special will see the green in all that brown. It’s why we look good in reds.

Steve was still looking at the box on the table.

“It’s not going to catch fire, the longer you glare at it.”

His dark hazel, creek water eyes slanted up to the man sitting opposite him.

Billy Hargrove.

Stubborn to a fault. Gorgeous as Lucifer with wings freshly burnt off. And just as dangerous.

“I thought I said no more gifts.”

“And I ignored you. Open it.”

Steve went about it like ripping off a bandaid. He sighed at the window beside their booth, wrenching the thing open to see -

Diamonds.

He shut it with a loud clap and set it on Billy’s placemat. “No, thanks.”

The man’s features froze in tolerant stoicism, but he eased the box inside his suit jacket pocket. “You’re a hard one to shop for.”

Steve’s eyes widened dramatically over his wine glass of water. Not because he was sober - he’d willingly pay for an overpriced red, himself, if the handsome asshole weren’t trying to wave his wallet everywhere. “You can stop trying to buy your way into my pants any time you want.”

“If that’s all I wanted, I would’ve stopped three months ago.”

Three months ago,

When Billy breezed into Steve’s life as easily as he had senior year of high school. The two of them certainly deserved some kind of award for having a bizarre history.

Within a handful of months, Billy had arrived upon a turbulent time in Steve’s life, and then left nearly as quickly. Billy witnessed Steve and Nancy’s break-up, Steve’s fall from Hawkins High grace, and even beat his face a little bit. Because that’s what teenage men with bad emotional processing and even worse communication skills do.

Now, almost ten years later, Billy had some kind of empire behind him and Steve, well, didn’t. He had no idea what Billy’s job consisted of, but he got little hints. Mostly the negative space from Billy’s lack of discussing his job told Steve a whole lot.

Steve, who worked two jobs and occasional gigs wherever he was needed. During one such time, while Steve managed the cables and sound boards for Robin’s band, Billy Hargrove sauntered up to him with just as much charm mixed with hauteur as he’d ever displayed.

It wasn’t like meeting an old friend, because they had never been more than acquaintances, and roughly ten years was enough time for a personality to evolve ten different ways.

Steve couldn’t say how much he and Billy had evolved, really, but there was a point in there somewhere.

Maybe it lived in the, “I never expected to see you in a dyke club, pretty boy,” since it was all the coming out either of them needed.

Or the wanton kisses and fervent hands underneath the neon rainbow on the venue’s wall.

Maybe the point sat in the things Billy wanted, and what Steve was reticent to provide. Because Billy was a king who knew what he liked, and seemed particularly talented at walking into Steve’s personal crises like an anniversary.

Steve craved.

But he didn’t know what he craved. What he yearned for. He knew Billy’s kisses made his brain go molten and fuzzy. He knew Billy’s smell brought him just as much comfort, excitement, and anxiety. He knew finally being outside of sex-crazed high school had deflated something in him. The expectations to perform. He knew losing Robin’s stupid game of You Rule / You Suck gave him a secret gift of relief.

But he still craved. He wanted touch but he wanted to be alone. He wanted companionship but he didn’t want sex. But he did enjoy sex, except he didn’t want the expectation of it.

Well.

That was it, wasn’t it?

Billy Hargrove, who could have anyone he wanted plastered to his stupid, unbuttoned chest, had sought out Steve. Steve, king of mixed signals, Harrington. It was only a matter of time before he got his face beaten again. For wasting Billy’s time. For refusing Billy’s advances even though Steve clearly enjoyed Billy’s lips on his neck, and Billy’s hand on his inner thigh. For wanting Billy’s company and flirtation without the rules that finished in the bedroom.

So Steve refused the gifts. The material favors he could’ve sold for a better apartment. Fucked his way to owning a house that his mom would feel comfortable visiting. Be an unfeeling toy who could pay for his mother’s shoes and his own pedicures.

“Steve?”

He turned away from the window and the city’s electric constellations. “Hm?”

“Where’d you go?”

The back of Steve’s throat ached. He looked down at their appetizer plates and decided, “I think I’m going home.” After a second of them both hearing it out loud, Steve said with more conviction, “I need to be home right now. I’m sorry. Thanks for dinner.”

He almost reached for his wallet to pay for his half of the artichoke dip, but reconsidered. He took his old prom tuxedo jacket off on the way to the elevator, waiting for the doors to close before he pressed his face into the old fibers.

It would be easier if Steve didn’t know money. If wealth were a foreign pillow he had never slept on; could be spoiled into never giving it up again.

Like a true mother with a sixth sense, Steve withdrew a package from his mailbox when he returned to his apartment building. Mrs. Harrington’s versions of care packages were fashion magazines, a subscription to The New Yorker, polaroids of her latest closet pieces, and Steve’s favorite candy.

He loved it all. He didn’t need laminated recipes, bags of rice, or resupplied hair products. He went up to his bedroom, stripped down to nothing, and fell into bed with the hefty parcel. Fruity hard candies fell out like confetti, and he stuck a green apple square inside his cheek while he looked through her baggie of polaroids.

Peach suede 130s. Steve felt a warm tickle in his belly at that. She only wore 130s if she was pissed at his father. A woman in 130s walked with the force of a storm, mostly because the damn things were nearly intolerable to wear without a platform.

Another pair of diamond earrings. One of these days, people were going to realize how boring clear rocks were.

Dark, amethyst Miu Mius with the heel and toe encrusted with pearls. Steve’s dad must’ve really pissed her off to warrant that apology.

The magazine subscription had piled up, so he had three New Yorkers to read, but he opened the tome of Vogue first. His mother dog-earred her favorite articles, scent samples, and spreads. She often favored the androgynous and male fragrances. Steve liked that a whole lot. He wasn’t sure if she did that for him because he liked them, or if he liked them because she did that.

He held the magazine to his face as he went to the kitchen, smelling the first fragrance sample while he reached for his cache of boxed cake mix. It was a funfetti kind of night. He rattled the package of sprinkles in his hand while reading about some summer collection where the runway happened in a Greek ampitheatre. Sounded fun. Sounded like a great vacation. Beach, wine, and then modern art fusing with ancient architecture.

Steve didn’t excel in chemistry, but he knew a different kind of magic.

Which didn’t actually include baking. The cake emerged a little dark, but he cut off the burnt top, iced it to glorious, sugar perfection, and took a slice to bed with him. He turned the parcel upside-down for the last of the candy to come out so he could throw the envelope away -

Two bottles of nail polish landed heavily on the bed. Steve lifted the darker bottle to see a purple so ebony he thought it was black until he opened it to see the paint up close.

Purple and peach. To match his mother’s shoes.

Not many people understood his parents’ methods of producing or avoiding affection. But Steve did. He shook up the poison violet and painted his toenails in between forkfuls of cake.

He didn’t hear from Billy the next day.

Or the next.

As bad as Steve felt, he couldn’t say he minded. Nor would he be surprised if Billy never called him again. The idea brought a lonely peace during the commute to work, reading his magazines on the train before keeping them safe in a folder that he stuffed inside his backpack. Even if Steve’s chest felt like a cold balloon, with its latex worn thin and tired, he had his little things to keep him warm.

Then a knock on his apartment door.

Steve answered it with a cheek full of cake, interrupted from making his grocery list of actual nutritional value - 

Billy had never visited before. Steve stared at him long enough for him to ask, “Are you going to let me in?”

Steve glanced at the box under his arm and turned into his apartment with a sigh. Billy closed the door behind him as he remarked, “You don’t know what’s in it yet.”

There wasn’t exactly anywhere for Steve to theatrically storm off to. His kitchen was also his living room, and a half-wall partitioned the bedroom off to the side. His apartment was one long rectangle, and Steve remained stuck in the middle of it.

“Billy, I don’t know what you want from me that you think you can get from expensive things.”

“I don’t recall asking for anything in return,” he drawled while removing his coat.

“Don’t take that off,” Steve retorted.

“I’m taking it off.”

“This isn’t going to be a long visit.”

“Would you at least open the damn thing first?” Billy presented the box on the flat of his hand like a waiter’s tray.

Steve knew a shoe box when he saw one. He swatted the lid off the box before he even meant to. He was so tired of this game. Of these rules. He doesn’t want to see some snotty designer sneaker that isn’t to his taste. Some item the rules would dictate he accept without complaint. Or some chunky, foamy plastic, glorified tennis shoe that is over hyped . . .

He sees the red first.

It’s not a sneaker.

Hot Chick heels. 100mm. Black suede on top, red bottom. The leather around the heel scallop-cut like minimalist flower petals.

Steve’s breath has stopped in his chest. The pad of his thumb moved across the soft, matte leather before he stops himself. He tries to look stern when he dares to peek up at Billy, but those water-turquoise eyes are steady on him, absorbing his every reaction.

“These don’t exist in suede.”

Because they didn’t. Hot Chicks came in patent leather only.

“They do now.”

“Louboutin sizes down.”

“Then we’ll have them stretched.”

Steve is losing. Billy knows he’s losing. Billy - he -

“How - ?” Steve begins but stops. He closed his eyes and swallowed, only to flinch a little when Billy grasped his chin, holding him in place as he leaned in to lick the corner of his mouth free of icing.

“Will you try them on for me?”

Steve feels a mixture of defeat mixed in with petulance and vulnerable glee as he warily takes the box to his humble couch. Billy looked at his bed, and then to the kitchen on the other side of the apartment. He strolled into it and lifted the knife for a slice.

Steve, meanwhile, took his time. He opened the paper from where it had floated back over the shoes. He lifted the box to inhale the leather. He took one shoe out just to...see it. Look at it. Read the number stamped on the red arch.

Steve had to remove his socks, revealing his lacquered toes as Billy sat next to him with a plate. He eased the coffee table out of the way, giving Steve room to wiggle his foot into the severe 100mm heel.

They were hardly glamorous under his old, cut-off sweats.

But.

He’d never actually seen his feet in heels before. Never bothered to try to find his size.

Billy handed him the other shoe, and stood up with a ready hand. Steve wiggled into it and accepted his hold as he stood up.

How do you walk in those? he’d once asked his mother.

Trust the heel, my love, she’d answered, strolling around her bedroom in her 130s. If you’ve paid enough for it, it better hold up your entire form, and your dating baggage.

Steve had laughed, but listened to her every word. Move like a wheel barrow. You pivot on your toes, like the wheel, and rest on the heels.

“I’ve got you,” Billy purred when Steve teetered. Just a little.

“Why did you get me these?” Steve had to ask while he began to ease his arm off of Billy’s shoulders.

“Might’ve had a look inside your mail,” he admitted shamelessly. “I thought you might’ve ordered something and I could finally see what you liked. Instead, it’s the one thing I’ve seen you accept.”

“You’re a creep,” Steve declared, but he couldn’t look away from his feet as he strolled around the coffee table.

Billy laughed and sat down to his cake. “This is good.”

“It’s from a box.”

“It’s still good.”

Things . . . changed, after that. Billy came over just to come over. And he pestered Steve with endless questions.

“Do you like these?” he asked with his nose against the magazine pages.

Steve towered over him in his heels, but he’d wash dishes in whatever he wanted, thanks very much. And leather needed to be worn, as his mother taught him. Plastic is trash. If it comes from a living creature, it lives on a creature.

Steve snorted beside him. “My mom crimps those pages.”

“But do you like them?”

“They’re fun in magazines, but perfumes were never really my thing.”

“What is your thing?”

“Right now? You, elbows deep in here.”

Billy perked right out of the magazine only to lock onto the sink. “Because you’re having trouble reaching it now?”

Steve meant to have a witty come-back, but he got caught up in his own giggles. “Yeah.”

Then,

“Can I stay the night?”

Something must have flashed across his face, because Billy added, “Not for sex. I’ve taken the hint, all right?”

Steve slowly unfolded his socks where he sat on the foot of the bed. “Why do you want to?”

Billy wiped his hands on the dish towel and padded across the room to sit beside him. “Because I want to taste you before I sleep. And I wanna taste you when I wake up. I want your snark in my ears all the time - ”

“All the time?” Steve repeated, deadpan.

“Yeah, all the time. I can’t believe it either.”

Billy’s features were warm, unbelievably warm as he watched Steve laugh. “Of course I want to have sex with you. But I miss you when... I miss you all the time. It’s embarrassing.”

Steve rolled his eyes onto him, to which Billy defended, “I have things to do.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the big man in town,” Steve babied, pushing his chest so he toppled backward.

“I am, actually,” he crooned, his hands finding Steve’s legs easily when he straddled him. “I’d work better with you on my desk.”

“My hairy legs and scraped up heels?” Steve threatened breathily, holding Billy’s cheek and jaw in one hand while he leaned over him so all Billy could see was Steve.

“All of it,” he exhaled, and pulled Steve’s head the last inch for a kiss.

Billy’s next gift was a pair of slippers. Plush, soft, and perfect after an afternoon in 100s.

Then he gave Steve a massage. Steve could accept those with ease. The balls of his feet hurt and even blushed a faint indigo from being so unused to heels. The warm attention of Billy’s hands on the arches of his feet, heels, and ankles; as well as the cold tennis balls he stored in Steve’s freezer to roll along his feet.

By then, he’d seen Steve’s anklet. So the next shoe box Steve opened were dark green suede, as poisonously dark as his mother’s violet heels. The toe was bare, but the heel was encrusted with opals. The milky stones flashed green and orange as Steve walked in the 120mm heel.

“How do they feel?”

Steve, with far more mastery over heels now, pivoted on his toes and planted one on the couch in between Billy’s thighs. His warm hand cradled Steve’s ankle immediately.

“What if I shaved for these?”

“Then I’d never take my hands off you.”

“So nothing would change,” Steve giggled, teasing gone as he landed on Billy’s lap. The man underneath him hummed his mirth into Steve’s mouth, his other hand burying in Steve’s hair while he let Steve control the kiss, explore his mouth.

“I thought they’d go with your eyes,” he said when the kiss petered off and Steve kissed his nose. Billy touched the pad of his thumb high on Steve’s cheek. “There’s a little bit of green there.”

Steve let Billy fuck him in those shoes.

Because he finally craved all the way, beyond fear of rules. Beyond the existence of toys. He craved Billy deeper than skin, and Billy gave it to him.

And when Billy got him a pair of 130s . . . blood red and spiked with tiny, crimson points, he let Steve fuck him.

#everything i know about shoes i learned from Violet Chachki #harringrove #ficlet #asexual!steve #sugardaddy!billy #sugarbaby!steve #neonponders #pondermoniums #lazybakerart #happy birthday love!!! #no i don't know billy's job #cover a plot hole with an unreliable narrator~

[walpurga-nacht-academy]

Rosenhex Dorm Building

The sixth youngest amongst the eight dorms, Rosenhex was founded on the teachings of the Witch of the Rose and thus incorporates primarily imagery related to the seaside and Mediterranean coast towns. The general atmosphere is a calm, relaxed one where the students enjoy the calming sounds of the sea and the fresh air in a mostly warm climate with regular rain showers. It is one of the medium sized dorms and it resembles a Mediterranean summer vacation mansion.

Entrance 

The entrance to the dorm is a hidden keyhole on the door to the shed to the third botanical garden. Though simplistic in aesthetic, using the dorm key to open it will transport the student to the shore of the dorm. There they will find a stone staircase leading up to the hill where the dorm is situated. 

Lounge 

The Rosenhex lounge is an open courtyard, with wicker chairs and wooden tables situated all around. It is somewhat placed in the shade, so the girls can rest there even on a hot day. The surrounding architecture resembles a rustic style which is predominantly made of stone, along with vines and greenery abounding on top and down the walls. Those are mostly white, though the colour is very faded. Generally you can always find a few Rosenhex witches laying around enjoying the day and weather while idly chatting with one another about all sorts of topics.  

Student Dorms 

The dorm follows a minimalist, rustic design inside as well. The rooms have large windows so as to be able to let the sun come in easily, with the only important furniture being the bed, wardrobe and desk. The space is somewhat small, and because Rosenhex is one of the smaller dorms the rooms are singles. The wardrobe doors and the headboard and footboard are the most elaborate parts of the room, as they both employ specific symbols in their decor. Among them chief is the scallop that is often surrounded by imagery of doves carrying roses in their beaks. The only exception to this is the Prefect’s room which replaces the doves with swans instead. 

Generally students are allowed to decorate their room however they want to, as long as they keep to the overall theme and do not choose anything too gaudy or clashing. This often means that the witches will choose to hang all sorts of pictures and portraits on their walls instead of adding any new piece of furniture, though exceptions have been noted as well.   

Library 

Though smaller in size than the regular dorm libraries, Rosenhex contains a sizeable collection of books on hexes, charms, social etiquette, art history, fashion and other such topics. Unlike the rest of the dorm building where it’s customary to leave the windows open, here they are permanently shut to avoid the humidity from affecting the conditions of the books there. The girls in charge of the library change every month so most students end up working there at some point or another. 

Dining Room 

The largest room in the dorm as it needs to house all of the members during breakfast and dinner, it is reminiscent of the typical rustic style that’s been associated with the rest of the dorm. The tables are long and made of strong oak wood, and accompanied by long benches which are standard for all the dorms. The room faces the ocean, offering the girls a beautiful sight while they eat, and the columns that are part of the room are decorated with a similar imagery that is found in the bedrooms.  

Kitchen 

Much like the rest of the architecture, it retains the simple, Spartan style which makes use of the minimalist aesthetic. It is predominantly utilitarian, even if the technology inside is rather old-fashioned, forcing the girls to rely on a mixture of magic and hard work to ensure that everything is taken care of and works properly. 

Generally the girls take shifts when it comes to cleaning duty, with the meals usually being prepared by the Nisse Tomte who are given the night before a list of what they should prepare for breakfast and dinner the following day. The most popular dishes in this dorm are ones that contain chicken, fish meat, vegetables and fruits. Rosenhex witches are known for looking after their health and thus have a tendency to opt for food which is considered healthy for the body. 

Special Feature: Beach 

The pride of Rosenhex is the beautiful beach that extends all around the dorm building. It is the single most respected place in the entire dorm territory and the girls are required to take extra care of it and make sure it is always clean. It is traditional for witches of this dorm to spend an hour jogging on the beach as a tribute to the long journey the Witch of the Rose was said to have undergone before she met the Lady of Beauty. The starting point and finish line is an old statue, which, though in a very bad state, is still recognizable as depicting the figure of a beautiful, bald woman. 

Some have theorized that the statue might represent the Witch of the Rose, as some myths claim that after swearing allegiance to her new Master, the witch shaved her head entirely as a means of showing her humility towards her saviour. It’s unclear however if this is true or not, but there have been cases of Rosenhex witches shaving their heads for their graduation as a sign of honouring the values of the dorm. 

Rosenhex Stereotypes 

Many make the mistake of writing off witches from this dorm as merely pretty faces with not a shred of wit to them. While Rosenhex certainly insists that one’s physical appearance be always well-maintained and looked after, they do not consider it acceptable for one to neglect their mind either. It’s true that while they might not excel in academic pursuits in the same manner the Grimmaire dorm does, they certainly should not be discredited. If one were to look at the history of the dorm, they would notice that Rosenhex has continuously placed in the top during finals ever since its founding. That is mostly because in order to properly understand the nature of charms and hexes one must have a sharp mind and outside-the-box thinking. 

Due to the lifestyle of the dorm, Rosenhex witches tend to be very strong swimmers and are for the most part members of the swimming team. One of their favorite activities is to spend time on the beach or swim in the sea as they compete against each other.  

Most of the members of this dorm are humans (70%) with the remaining (30%) being either beastman or fae. Merfolk students are very rare for this dorm.

Fruit bowls filled with golden apples are a common feature of this dorm. The reason for this is that it was said that the Lady of Beauty held this fruit as her symbol of triumph over others when a young shepherd declared her to be the most beautiful creature to walk the earth. Thus the golden apple has become sacred to the dorm as well, with witches usually preferring it as a light snack in between meals. 

Witches of this dorm are the most upset about the school’s strict uniform rules, since it means they are not allowed to fully express themselves aesthetically. They are generally the ones that push the limits by wearing very light make-up, trying out interesting hairstyles or decorating their phone cases in outrageous styles. As a result they are usually seen as the trend-setters of the school, to the point that even beehives were considered very fashionable during a time.

Because of their talent at hexes, Rosenhex witches usually function as matchmakers for the Spring Debutante Ball. Offering counseling for the girls who want to find dates for the event, they rely on two particular books “The Sword” and “The Raven” which are long accounts of the students from Royal Sword Academy and Night Raven College. They detail things such as the boys’ height, appearance, disposition, school grades and even general dietary preferences. The books are considered so valuable that only the oldest members of the dorm have access to it. When they graduate they pass it down to another witch, chosen by them.

Witches of this dorm get along best with their domovoy. The house spirits have not only taken after them when it came to personal grooming, eagerly decorating their beards to receive compliments from the girls, but also are very involved in their everyday going-ons. It is not unheard of for the domovoy to help out the girls with getting ready for the day or pick out their outfits for important events.

Bathing is a very important ritual for this dorm. It was said that the Lady of Beauty held cleanliness in high regard, and those that enraged her were often punished in regards to that. The girls make sure to look after their personal hygiene with utmost care.   

Daily Routine 

5:00 a.m. Rise

5:00 - 5:15 a.m. Light Snack

5:15 - 6:15 a.m. Beach Jog

6:15 - 7:00 a.m. Breakfast

7:00 - 7:10 a.m. Cleaning Up

7:10 - 8:00 a.m. Preparing for Classes

8:00 - 8:15 a.m. Dorm Assembly

8:15 - 12:15 a.m. Classes

12:15 - 13:25 p.m. Lunch

13:25 - 16:15 p.m. Classes

16:15 - 18:15 p.m. Club Activities

18:30 - 20:00 p.m. Dorm Library Hours

20:15 - 21:45 p.m. Dinner

21:50 - 23:00 p.m. Free Time

23:15 p.m. Lights Out

Once a month, on Saturday, the girls meet in the dining room to listen to the story of the Witch of the Rose as recorded in her grimoire. 

Every two weeks, on Saturdays they also meet to pick up shells to decorate the statue on the beach.

Tropes: 

Academic Alpha Bitch 

Animal Motif: Doves and swans. 

Attention Whore 

Bitch in Sheep’s Clothing 

Brainless Beauty: Averted.  

Even the Girls Want Her 

Femme Fatale 

Head-Turning Beauty 

Heart Is An Awesome Power 

Light Is Not Good 

Ms. Fanservice 

The Power of Love 

Proud Beauty  

Water Is Womanly

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #walpurga nacht academy #rosenhex #twist #twist oc #twisute #twisute oc #fanlore #twst fanschool

[hinamoria]

Clumsy ghost

Hitsuhina Week 2021 : Day 9- AU / Ghost

Rating: K+ or T ? (It’s a little bit angst, we’re talking about ghost, so character’s death, but no violence or anything like that)

Synopsis: Living with a clumsy ghost was no rest for Hitsugaya at all.

Word Count: 1953 words

Setting:  Modern world

Author’s Note: my favorite one shot of the challenge <3. The first one I wrote immediately after reading the themes. And, rare enough to note it, I liked what I wrote at the first try xD

—

The sound of shattered glass abruptly stopped Hitsugaya in his chemistry exercise. It was 9:00 p.m., his parents had gone out to see some friends, and he didn't have any cat that could make that kind of noise last he noticed. He almost wished the culprit was a thief sneaking into his home. It would have been easier to justify the disaster to his parents on their return. But no, the probability was almost certain that Hinamori had done something stupid again.

The young boy let out an exasperated sigh and shouted in the direction of the downstairs.

“Hinamori! What did you break again this time? "

Silence answered him. But he was not fooled. Putting down his pen on the notebook, Hitsugaya got up from his desk, stretched briefly, and walked towards the crime scene. The living room seemed unoccupied, but right in front of the wooden bookcase was one of her mother's little blown glass figurines, shattered into dozens of pieces on the floor. Beyond repair. Better get it all out quick before someone got hurt.

As he picked up the pieces, Toshiro noticed a book also on the ground, a few inches next to the statue. “Alice in Wonderland” by Lewis Caroll. A classic. Hinamori probably wanted to read it and must have dropped it on the figurine. However, the culprit still had not deigned to show up.

"Instead of watching me clean your mess in silence, you could at least apologize," he said sternly, keeping his eyes on his task. “My mother loves this stuff, she's going to notice it "

A silhouette gradually appeared a meter beside him, remaining translucent. A brown-eyed brunette teenager, looking half embarrassed-half pained, played nervously with her hands while looking at her white-haired friend.

"Shiro-chan…" She started in a small voice. “Sorry… I wanted to grab the book, but it slipped out. "

This sort of thing has unfortunately happened quite frequently over the past few months. As a ghost, the young woman could not interact with objects as easily as a human being. But as she built up enough spiritual energy over time, she could do small things like turn on the light or the TV, or read. But if turning the pages of a novel was easy, getting the book out of the library was more complex. And she frequently dropped the objects she was holding for lack of spiritual energy.

"Here’s the result," thought Hitsugaya, looking at the fragments one last time before throwing it in the trash.

He will look on the internet to order the same item. With any luck, it would all go unnoticed. In two years of living in this house, he had ended up gaining a reputation as a “legendary clumsy”, completely false. But being the only one to see Hinamori, unless he wanted to be taken for a madman, he preferred accepting the reproaches, and turning against his ghostly friend afterwards.

His parents had made a good deal by buying this house. The former owners, devastated by grief after losing their daughter in a traffic accident, wanted to leave the place as soon as possible. Everything reminded them of Hinamori here, to the point of even thinking they saw her or heard her voice.

Their hallucinations must have been caused by their daughter's ghost desperately trying to make contact with them.

When he arrived, the feeling of being watched had not left Hitsugaya. He wasn't naturally paranoid, but something about this house was bothering him. And then one day, when he almost hit the corner of a cupboard in the kitchen cabinet, he heard a female voice screaming "watch out!" ". His face had crumpled up when he saw the half-translucent young woman right in front of him, and she mimicked his expression as she realized he could see her. And since then, she never left him. Sometimes to his dismay.

Ghost life seemed boring, especially when you mysteriously couldn't leave the house. So the young woman spent her time talking to him about everything and nothing, most often nothing. His ability to grab objects was a small revolution in their lives. Granting some peace of mind for Hitsugaya. He brought her CDs and books from the library every week to her delight. He also frequently left his computer or television on for her.

Sometimes he wondered why she didn't go to "heaven" or the afterlife. But she always dodged this question. So he had come to terms with her daily presence. At least she had the decency not to go into the bathroom. He would probably have asked to go to a boarding school otherwise.

Finishing cleaning up the mess, he motivated himself to return to the bedroom to end his homework and have his evening free.

"Can you take the book and bring it to the bedroom?" Momo asked behind him with a small smile. “I don't know if I would have the energy to do it on my own all the way."

Denying her nothing, he put the open book on his bed, letting the young woman start reading, while he finished his work.

"Alice in Wonderland ". She must have read this book at least fifteen times since he had known her. It had to be her favorite without a doubt. The book was starting to get damaged around the edges from turning the pages.

He walked over to the bathroom to relax in the shower and found himself disappointed that the bulb was burnt out.

"I had nothing to do with it this time!” Hinamori objected reflexively upon hearing his friend's exasperated sigh again.

You spend your time turning on the lights in the house," he retorted. “You are indirectly guilty of that”.

She pouted at him at the new accusation but didn't refute. Spare bulbs were in the attic and Toshiro walked there wearily.

The house had been renovated with the exception of the attic which retained old with its creaky and fragile parquet. A real ghost room, Hitsugaya thought.

Having found the purpose of his visit, he was about to leave when he noticed a partly defeated wooden slat. Better put it back on before someone got hurt. Crouching down, he was about to reposition it when he noticed a metallic-looking object underneath.

Removing the slat, he noticed with surprise a small metal cookie tin hidden in a recess between the parquet floor and the ceiling below.

Intrigued by this new treasure, he opened it. Inside he found a multitude of photos, as well as several papers and small items. He recognized Momo in one of the photos, dressed in high school clothes, surrounded by two boys, one blond and one with red hair.

He then decided to take the set to its real owner.

"I found this in the attic," he showed her, putting the box on the blanket with a small metal noise.

Momo's face lit up at the find.

“My treasure box! I can’t believe it! I completely forgot it was there!"

Abandoning her book altogether, his friend immediately took an interest in the content, scattering the photos everywhere.

"Look! It's Kira-kun and Abarai-kun! "She explained, pointing at the two boys earlier. «I’ve told you about them before. We went to college together and we were in the same class in high school! A real sign of fate. I wonder what happened to them now...”

She paused, staring at the photo for a long time.

"They must be in college today," she continued. ”Kira was a good student. I could see him teaching one day. Abarai was more impulsive. He spent his time being reprimanded. But I think you could have got along.”

Her tone had grown melancholic as she explained the scenes in the photos: Momo dressed in some sort of pumpkin costume for her fifth birthday, a family outing to the beach, birthdays...

"And this is a bracelet I made in elementary school!” She showed him, grabbing a sort of black rubber band with a small turquoise bead. “It's the same color as your eyes. Another sign of fate! » She added, laughing.

She started the gesture as if to put it on her wrist, but the bracelet crossed her arm and fell back on the bed, triggering a temporary silence in the young woman. A cloudy veil seemed to appear for a moment in the young woman's eyes but disappeared before Toshiro could even speak.

"I'll give it to you Shiro-chan!" She finally declared smiling again.

He grabbed the jewel and inspected it for a few moments between his fingers. He wasn't the type to wear this kind of thing, but the style was simple and the stone was pretty on its own.

“Thank you”, he finally answered, picking up a micro smile from the little brunette.

She nodded and turned to the photos again.

“Maybe we could make copies for you and send the originals to my parents?” She proposed. “They would surely be happy to have them”.

He nodded, approving of the idea.

As he began to put them away, Momo spoke again:

“You know…I didn't want to die Toshiro”, she blurted out followed by a bitter little laugh. “I…”

He was surprised that she brought up the subject so suddenly, but let her continue. The veil over her pupils reappeared, brighter than before.

"I loved my life," she said with a tight throat. “I had a lot of plans. I wanted to travel, adopt a dog, fall in love, take a parachute jump, learn baking... Those things may be trivial but I will never have the chance to do them again. When...”

A first sob broke her, and Toshiro, who by reflex wanted to put his hand on his friend's arm, saw it cross her without feeling the contact of her skin. She smiled at him, appreciating the gesture nonetheless.

“Thanks Shiro-chan”, she said taking a deep breath. “I was saying, when the accident happened, I kept telling myself that I didn't want to die and then I ended up at home like...that. A ghost. And then I met you... And I loved those two years with you, I don't think I could have dreamed of a better roommate to tease."

She giggled in front of his "hey!" and continued

“But seeing all of this, I realize what a lovely life I have had. And even if it was a little too short, it was happy and full. I shouldn’t have any regrets ".

Hitsugaya watched her with a slight pang in her heart, understanding where she was going.

"You're going, right? » He asked her

She paused, thoughtful, then turned to her book on the bed.

"Did you know I never finished it?" She confessed to him.

"I've seen you read it a dozen times," he remarked to her in surprise.

"That's right, but I’ve never read the last chapter."

She laid down on the bed and turned to her friend

"Can you read the end of the book to me, Shiro-chan? It would be a shame not to know how the story ends."

"Haven't you seen Disney? She wakes up, that's all," he replied to tease her a last time.

But he accepted, because as said before, he could not refuse her anything. And it was as if she had dictated her last will to him.

The text was crazy. His serious tone didn't match; but he continued to Momo's laughter anyway. And as he said the last sentence, he found that he was now alone in the room, surrounded by photos of his friend. On the back of one of them he could read in a somewhat shaky handwriting: "Thanks Shiro-chan, and goodbye."

#hitsuhina week 2021 #momo hinamori #toshiro hitsugaya #bleach fanfiction

[perpetuallylocked]

Tag Yourself: Nancy Drew Game Aesthetics Edition

SCK: opening a new book for the first time, the nostalgia of VHS tapes, coca cola in a glass, remembering your locker combo, letterman jackets, watching true crime documentaries, empty high school hallways, 1950s diners, cramming before an exam

STFD: boxes of chocolates, tape recorders, the click-clack of typewriter keys, catching a taxi, shadows on the wall, stained coffee cups, sitting down to rewatch a tv show, perfume bottles, 1990s fashions

MHM: the sight of dust mixing with light, sightreading old sheet music, crystal chandeliers, old floral teacups, crystal balls, old rotary phones, grand staircases, intricate wooden floors, never-ending house projects

TRT: the glitter of diamonds, worn chessboards, snow-covered gardens, ink-covered hands, butterfly collections, cold tile floors, dull suits of armor, dusty history tomes, footsteps muffled by carpets

FIN: plush red velvet, the scent of popcorn, drawing art deco designs in the margins, worn carpets, old playing cards, the feeling there is still magic everywhere, meeting a childhood idol, movie posters on the wall, catching up with a childhood friend

SSH: jade carvings, steep stone steps, chocolate bars, being the only person in a museum gallery, clean lab coats, amazing sights through a microscope, visiting the hospital, remembering facts you've only heard once, checking the mail for your package

DOG: log cabins, the flapping of bird wings, the distant howling of dogs, the odd sensation when you can see the moon during the day, the scent of pine trees, old glass bottles, strolls along the lake shore, admiring 1920s fashion, long walks in the woods

CAR: antique roller coasters, old postcards, the golden light at dusk, loud band organ music, sounds of a carnival at night, ice cream sundaes for dessert, the delight of riding the carousel for the first time, paint-stained clothes, winning a prize from a carnival game

DDI: a steaming mug of tea on a foggy day, sea caves, light from a lighthouse piercing the fog, messages in bottles, approaching deep water, the sound of seagulls, vintage blue bicycles, spotting a whale on the horizon, crumb-topped blueberry muffins

SHA: worn plaid shirts, sunsets on the horizon, the clip-clopping of hooves, antique blanket chests, forbidden romance, mason jars of flowers, brown and blue eggs, playing piano by ear, faded rugs

CUR: leather-bound books, small potted succulents, curving staircases, old portraits, family secrets, four-poster beds, hearing strange sounds at night, food cravings, spending all day on your laptop

CLK: the ticking of an old clock, pearl and cameo jewelry, the scent of a pie baking, the whir of a sewing machine, reading in a window seat, flouncy dresses, bridges over creeks, driving around a small town, reading Shakespeare for your own enjoyment

TRN: ballet slippers, snow mixed with smoke, faded pastel embroidery, the far-off sound of train whistles, old parchment and wax seals, unwrapping a piece of salt water taffy, quirky local museums, organizing your collections and belongings, light shining through tiffany lamps

DAN: light streaming through stained glass windows, bold red lipstick, freshly baked cookies, tales from your grandparents' youth, long-lost love, twirling in a tulle skirt, the overwhelming desire to visit paris, planning out your outfit for the next day, park benches

CRE: wind in the palm trees, footprints in the sand, rustling in the jungle, small seashells, rope bridges, fruity shave ice, waves tickling your toes, the tangy taste of pineapple, watching surfers from the beach

ICE: frozen lakes, sitting by a crackling fire, snow-covered piles of logs, worn leather ice skates, paw prints, staying in bed after you've woken up, seeing your breath in the cold air, unexpected snowball fights, leather-bound journals

CRY: shadows emphasized by candlelight, dirt-caked fingernails, exploring a cemetery at night, wrought iron fences, the smell after it rains, shelves lined with tchotchkes, going back for second helpings at dinner, moonlight streaming through the window, a grandfather clock at the end of the hall

VEN: gelato cones, orange and brown buildings, soft italian songs, gold lockets, buying flowers for yourself, cobblestone courtyards, leaning over the balcony rail, the overwhelming desire to reinvent yourself, dancing like no one is watching

HAU: ocean waves hitting cliffs, hanging herb bundles, old stone fortresses, white lace and promises, wilting flower bouquets, whistling to keep yourself company, distant celtic music, simple diamond rings, sitting in a peaceful garden

RAN: old gold coins, wading in the cold ocean, a slow-moving hourglass, seeing where the sky meets the sea, old pirate legends, sand between your toes, looking down through clear water, buying yourself new clothes for vacation, eating fruit salad for breakfast

WAC: exploring a college campus, old trophies, distant cello music, milk and cookies, cardigan sweaters, texting your friends, bare tree branches, anthologies of stories, school supply shopping

TOT: wind rustling through wheat fields, creaking wooden staircases, white curtains on the window, golden hay bales, old fences lining the road, watching a storm from the porch, buying a new camera, hanging out in your favorite professor's office, sitting on a tire swing

SAW: the faint scent of cherry blossoms, origami cranes, taking a bath, hearing a new language for the first time, shards of glass, seeing your reflection in the water, buying a new stuffed animal, trying a new food on vacation, listening to your grandmother's stories

CAP: rereading favorite fairy tales, blood-red garnets, red hair in braids, mist in the forest, local legends, playing board games on rainy days, remembering your make-believe games of childhood, puffy-sleeved blouses, watching glassblowers make magic

ASH: blue roadsters, rapidly melting ice cream cones, white picket fences, pastel shop awnings, hand-lettered signs in front of shops, the act of simply being with your friends, revisiting your childhood bedroom, spending all day in an antique shop, visiting your friend's house for the first time

TMB: wind-blown sand, straw sun hats, the warmth of the afternoon, chipped statues, well-used research books, having an egypt phase as a kid, planning your next adventure, drinking cold water on a hot day, pushing your hair out of your face

DED: pencil-covered hands, well-oiled gears, the crackling of electricity, eating your favorite flavor of gummy bears, group projects, keeping to yourself at work, unironically wearing ugly sweaters, publishing your research, organizing your messy desk

GTH: peeling paint on a once-grand house, angel statues, sheet-covered furniture, porch swings, lit matches, lace masquerade masks, grand ball gowns, drinking a hot cup of tea and lemon, looking for treasures in the basement

SPY: old leather suitcases, distant memories, the lingering touch of your true love, piano keys, adrenaline rushes, popped trench coat collars, hugging your mom after not seeing her for ages, looking out the window on a train ride, hearing movie soundtracks in your head

MED: the view from the top of a mountain, the rushing sound of waterfalls, freshly dyed hair, shooting stars, wandering off the trail, vintage comic books, philosophical thoughts, binge-watching reality tv, feeling the sense of deja vu

LIE: hands coated with clay and paint, laurel wreaths, pomegranate juice, books of Greek myths, gold sandals, memorizing a monologue, flowing white gowns, spending all day in a museum gallery, exploring ancient ruins

SEA: the twinkling sound of old music boxes, a night shining with stars, cozy knit sweaters, curling up with your dog, model ships, old barrels, learning your town's history, watching gently falling snow, the beauty of the aurora borealis

MID: the dark colors of herbs, edison bulbs, copper kettles, slowly changing leaves, road trips with friends, carving a jack-o'-lantern, exploring cemeteries at night, small shops surrounding a courtyard, thinking you saw a ghost out of the corner of your eye

#I'm definitely CLK and ASH with a touch of WAC and a little SPY #Nancy Drew #Tag Yourself #**general

[skygirl5]

12 Prompts of Christmas - #5 Garland

FIVE - Garland

Setting: Castle, post-show

Planting his fists at his hips, Castle stood in the foyer, observing décor on the stairway that swopped towards the second floor of the home, trying to determine if the decorations were sufficient. He tilted his head left and right, scratched his fingers against the stubble on his chin, and then shook his head. “No, it’s still not right,” he muttered to himself as he walked over to adjust the right side of the “Merry Christmas” sign he’d hung beneath the banister.

He had thought it would only take about half an hour to decorate the stairs, but that had been over two hours ago. Wrapping the garland around the banister alone had taken forty-five minutes, but he just wanted everything to be perfect since this was the first time they were spending Christmas in the Hamptons house.

Christmas-ing outside of Manhattan hadn’t been in the cards at all until about a week earlier. Kate had unexpectedly received not just Christmas day off of work, but Christmas Eve and the day before as well. That set up the perfect opportunity for a mini holiday vacation for the family, and what better place to spend it then at their beach home, which never did get enough use in the summer, especially with Kate’s schedule even busier now that she was dipping her toes into the political world.

Kate agreed to the change in setting but pointed out to him that it was the apartment that was fully decked out and the Hamptons home had nary a sprig of green anywhere. Obviously appalled by this notion, the writer suggested that the two of them go out the weekend before Christmas and deck it all out so it would be ready for them when they arrived with the kids. Thought it was a bit daunting to think about doing all that in less than twenty-four hours, Kate agreed and their plans were set.

Castle spent the days after their decision buying tons of last-minute décor, loading it in bags and storage containers, and stuffing the Mercedes absolutely full. They’d purchased a tree on the drive out that morning and had it delivered just after lunch. They divided their decorating tasks with Kate doing the second floor and him working on the first. Due to the size of the home coupled with the tight timeframe, it would not be quite as festive as the apartment, but Castle was pleased with what they were able to achieve. Other than the tree, the staircase was the last thing that needed decorated, so while he finished that up, Kate ran out to get them takeout for dinner.

He was just finishing up the last bit of décor when she arrived home and proclaimed, “Wow! Looks great, babe.”

Smiling at her he said, “Thanks. I think it really came together well. Getting that garland to stay wrapped was the most challenging part.”

“I’m sure. C’mon—let’s eat while its hot. Then we’ll tackle the tree.”

Ten minutes later they were sitting at the kitchen table, sharing parts of each other’s meals while they sipped on some red wine.

“You know what I realized while you were out?”

“Hmm?”

Castle set down his fork and laced his fingers together as he spoke, “This will be our first full night away since the twins were born.” Jake and Reese had turned two back in October and while they had spent several evenings away from their kids, they had always been there the following mornings when they woke up. This would be the first time that wasn’t the case.

Kate hummed and sipped her wine. “Yeah, I realized that as we were driving out here.”

“And…how are you doing with that?” he asked, knowing that the first time she spent a full night away from Lily she had cried for about an hour. Then again, she had only been about ten months old at that point.

She pressed her lips together tightly for a moment then turned to him asking, “Ah…is it wrong to say that I’m relieved?”

Castle let out a loud laugh, “No, because I am too.” He loved his boys dearly, but he wasn’t sad about not having to spend another night trying to prevent them from wrestling each other—or him—while trying to get them to bed.

When they first learned that Kate was having twins, they’d both become a bit delirious from how funny an unexpected it was. Then, as reality set in, she grew concerned, while he remained joyous. It was just another adventure for them, and they were amazing parents; they could totally handle twins. He’d held that resolve, too, right up until the time the boys discovered the joys of running—and climbing. Then, it became a bit more challenging. They were such delights most of the time, but when they were in mischievous moods…it sometimes made him want to pull his own hair out.

Her expression softening, Kate said, “I mean…I’m really going to miss Reece’s morning snuggles, but… I can’t believe how long it’s been since we had a morning to ourselves!”

He reached out across the table to take her hand sighing, “I know.” Now that the boys had figured out how to climb out of their cribs, it was rare that they woke up without one or both of them in bed with them. They tried their best to discourage it since they’d learned with Lily that habit was hard to break so it was best not to let it begin, but it was hard. The boys were getting toddler beds as part of their Christmas gift so they hoped the next year would be better, which would give them more time to themselves.  

“So…you want to talk about having that fourth kid now?”

It took a fraction of a second for Kate’s expression to morph into a glare. “Not funny.”

Chuckling, Castle picked up her hand from the table, kissed her knuckles, and then went back to eating. Due to both their ages, they had pretty much decided that Kate’s second pregnancy would be her last. When they found out they would be getting two babies out of it, that choice was even more solidified, but nothing quite wrote it in stone like the sleepless night they had with both boys shrieking and Lily vomiting when the boys were about four months old. With bloodshot eyes they’d looked at each other across their chaos-filled bedroom and decided for sure they would have no more children.

After they finished eating and were cleaning up, Castle remembered the idea he’d had about how to decorate their Christmas tree. “Oh, hey I had a thought about the tree. I was thinking—what if we divide the tree in sections vertically? All the boys’ car and truck ornaments hang at the bottom. Then Lil’s pink stuff in the middle and ours around the top. That way when the boys inevitably rip things off, it’s just their unbreakable stuff.”

Kate laughed and nodded. “That’s a good plan; I like it.”

“Great. I’ll finish putting this stuff away. Why don’t you get the ornament boxes out?”

“Okay.” she agreed.

He finished the clean up then grabbed their wine glasses from the table, pouring a little bit more into each before walking into the living area and handing her the glass with, “A little more wine, m’dear?”

She hummed as she took the glass. “Mmm it’s almost like you’re trying to get lucky tonight.”

He chuckled deeply. With a night away from the kids that seemed an almost given, but he still felt it was important to woo her, even if they had been together a little more than a decade. “Is it working?”

“Maybe,” she replied coyly. Then she winked at him.

He crouched down on the floor and helped her pull the newly purchased ornaments out of their packages, then paused and looked up at her saying, “Hey—just because I feel like I haven’t said it in awhile – I love our life.”

A beautiful smile blossomed on her face as she said, “I love our life too, babe. Always.”

#castle #caskett #castle fanfiction #castleficathonwinter2020 #12promptsofchristmas #my fic: 12 Prompts of Christmas

[descendantofthesparrow]

Encore - Harry Hook x reader -  Part 17 - bday present for myself~

Harry cursed to himself, the island he was going to use to propose to (y/n) on was some sanctuary for an endangered species and the wildlife preserves didn’t want humans on the island. So he would have to figure out something else for his propos…wait…her birthday was next week! And he had been wanting to do a surprise party for her, and Gil had suggested a scavenger hunt for her to do to keep her busy.

He already had the ring, permission to marry her from her aunt, and the knowing that if he asked, she would say yes…

All he had to do was add one more thing.

=

You sighed, setting down the heavy crate, wiping sweat from your neck as you stood. “gods, why does it gotta be so warm today” you groaned, undoing the colling towel from your belt and tossing it on your face “aahhhh that’s the good stuff~”

“(y/n) what are you doing?” you took off the towel and tossed it around your neck, sighing as the heat on your neck finally decreased.

“cooling down, it's like 95 out here” you complained, turning to look at Bonnie, who was holding two cold waterbottles “oohhhh fuckin-thank you!” she snorted and tossed one to you, you caught It in mid-air and cracked it open, gulping down the cold drink.

“slow down girl” Bonnie chuckled, cracking opening her bottle and starting to drink “oh, happy birthday by the way” you burped and grinned at her.

“Thanks, Bonnie,” you blinked in surprise as she handed you a note. “oh, thank-“

“yeah yeah, see you later girl” Bonnie trotted off deck, soon walking out of sight. You shrugged and tore open the paper.

It was Harry's handwriting.

-hello my bonnie lass~ today is your birthday and I wanted to celebrate it by giving you a scavenger hunt to your party today

It will be from the isle to Auradon, no stone left unturned.

Now go to the place, where our first meeting occurred.

You pursed your lips, tilting your head, where you first met huh? Well, that would be on the isle. You closed the note and stuffed it in your pocket, heading to your cabin for a moment to change your clothes, grab your bag, and your motorbike keys.

=

You looked around the slightly collapsed building, where you had originally met harry, after the chase between the gaston twins and you.

“oh,” you gasped, kneeling next to a large chunk of building and pulling out an envelope beneath it. Standing up you leaned against the wall and opened the note, a small bracelet falling out with it, golden painted seashells and opals danced across the metal, you slipped it on and read the note.

-you found it lass, now in the spot where the stars shine bright, the place I realized my heart was yours that night.

You groaned slightly, a smile on your face, he was being cheesy with these hints, but his rhyming wasn’t bad.

But you knew exactly where he was talking about, the hiding spot.

=

You took off your shoes, walking along the shore of the small inlet. You took a deep breath, the air much cleaner than the first time you had been here.

You spotted the white envelope holding the next clue, you trotted over and pulled it out, smiling at the long thin box underneath it. You pulled the box and opened it, clicking your tongue and tilting your head.

A new golden chain for your ruby necklace. You closed the box and slipped it into your bag, opening the note you laughed at the twin's messy handwriting.

-hi aunt (y/n)! harry let us write this note! -skipper

-so the next clue is “where you joined the crew”-sterling

“that’s an easy one” you snorted, but you couldn’t give them crap, they were only 12. So you walked the short distance from the hidden beach to the chip shop, nodding to the patrons as you entered.

“Hey (y/n) Hook left this for ya” Cook handed you the letter and a small bag, you grinned and nodded. “happy birthday by the way”

“Thanks, cook, see you later” you walked out of the shop and leaned on the docks outside. Opening the bag you snorted at the new leather gloves inside, small painted designs on the leather.

“such a dork” you whispered, taking out the note and grinning at it.

-another job well done my love, now for the place were we spar, and we “hit” it off

You groaned and rubbed your forehead, you remembered that…your head still hurt after that day.

=

You stepped onto the old lost revenge, even with Umas magic, it had been unable to sail again, so now it was used as an isle home for the crew. Desiree grinned, holding up the note and another small bag.

“hey, commander~ happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Desiree” you chirped, grabbing the note and bag from her “you can go ahead and do what you’re supposed to do after you give me this”

“Thanks, girl, see you later!” she hopped off the rails and walked off the ship, going through the tunnel to the bridge.

You opened the bag to see a scarlet headband with silver hook embroidered into the side, you slipped it on and opened the note.

-hope Desiree didn’t just leave the present unattended for you to find but! This next clue is just across the border, when I got to hold you in my arms once again.

Alright, to the bridge it is.

=

You stepped across where the magic barrier used to be, looking to your left, seeing a small stone holding down a note.

You walked over and picked it up, seeing no mini present. Opening it up you smiled.

-sorry love no present with this one, too risky for someone to take it, but this next one will be where we walked into Auradon together for the first time

Alright then, so just the other side of the bridge. Turning around you walked back to your motorbike and swung your leg over the seat and started the engine. You quickly strapped your helmet on and drove to the other side of the bridge.

=

You tilted your head at Evie, who smiled and waved at you, holding out a note “hey (y/n)! happy birthday! Here you go!” you dismounted your bike and met her halfway, nodding at her.

“Thanks, Evie, see you later” she nodded and ran off, presumably to your “surprise” party. Opening the note you chuckled.

-astute as always love (though im not really making these hard am I?) but the next is where I learned I wouldn’t be ripped from your arms for the second time

The courtyard of Bens castle, where you and Harry had gotten the keys from Persephone. You got back on your bike and rode off through the bridge gate to Auradon, making the 15 minute trip to bens castle.

“hey beasty boy!” you called, waving to the king who was just exiting his castle “you probably got something for me don’t cha?”

He shrugged “maybe? Dunno- ow” you punched his shoulder and held out your hand “okay okay here, I’ll see you later (y/n)” he handed you the next note and walked off, but you didn’t bother to pay attention where.

You ripped open the envelope, once more smiling at Harry's handwriting.

-Final clue my love, where we stepped through to our new life

That one made you think for a moment before it hit you. The door, the very first door you and harry stepped through to get to your world.

But you don’t remember a room behind it? Which it probably did but who knows. Good news was the door was in Bens castle so you unlipped your helmet and hung it off one of the handles, walking through the gates and making your way through the castle.

You stood in front of the door, looking at the small note taped to it.

-happy birthday (y/n)

You took a breath and opened the door, laughing as the room burst with streamers and confetti.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!”

The entire crew, the core four, Ben, Jane, Lonnie, even Audrey was there, blowing horns and throwing confetti in the air, screaming in your face.

“guys!” you whipped a stray tear from your cheek “awwww…ive never been thrown a surprise party before!”

“Really?” Jane gasped “why not?!”

You shrugged, “dunno, guys people from my world aren’t as amazing as you guys”

“aw thanks” Evie sniffed, smiling at something behind you. You rose your brow at her and turned around, gasping and stumbling back.

“H-Harry?! Wha-“ Harry stood infront of you, a clean dark red suit fitted on his body, his hair combed back yet still in that wild style you loved, his eyeliner clean.

“(y/n), yeh have been the light of meh life for the past two years, since yeh fell into my life. Yeh have saved me from becoming a dark bitter person hell-bent on revenge, yeh have saved me from my da, yeh have protected meh family” oh gods you were already crying “and eh have both given and helped meh love, and I want to spend the rest of meh life with yeh, and love yeh for the rest of meh life, so” he kneeled on one knee, taking out a red velvet box from his pocket and opening it, revealing his mothers red ruby ring, in a brand new golden band with small bits of sea glass running down the sides “will you marry me-“ you fell to your knees, tears streaming down your face, unable to talk.

You let out incomprehensible babbles and nodded, leaping into Harry's arms and wrapping your arms around his neck “Im guessing it’s a yes” Harry chuckled, pulling you back and smiling, tears brimming in his eyes.

“yes” you croaked “yes I will marry you, you giant dork” Harry laughed but you shut him up quickly, pressing your lips to his.

Harry hummed into the kiss, lifting you slightly and tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

“Alright alright” Carlos chuckled, walking over and patting Harry's shoulder “wed rather not see you two do it right in front of us please”

Harry separated from you and glared at Carlos “shut it up, let me enjoy this” he muttered, smiling at you and helping you stand, sliding the ruby ring onto your ring finger.

He kissed you again, bringing up your hand and kissing it “happy birthday my love”

“I love you Harry” you whispered, still whipping away your tears.

“I love you too (y/n)”

--end of part 17--

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#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine