#did I partially write this just for the amusement of 'what shall we do with the drunken sailor' being applied to rat?

[hoodievixen]

With My Own Eyes - Part 1 - New Moon (Dream of the Endless x OC)

Based off of this

Summary: Morpheus just wanted to keep his soulmate safe. She just wanted to make her own decisions. Doesn't help that he doesn't show her his face.

Words Count: ~3K

Warnings: possibly dark! Morpheus, definitely over protective Morpheus, OOC actions, swearing, mentions of blood, witchcraft, bad grammar and even worse spelling.

A/N: Okay, so took more than a week to write this. I needed to start on three different occasions. I wanted a soft Dream, but realized I couldn’t start with that. Basically it’s starting as putting two dramatic, stubborn people together and seeing who gives way first. 

Originally I was going to have it be a no y/n use x reader, but I hated using “she” so much, and also don’t like using y/n, so I just gave her a name. I won’t use any descriptors, so do what ya want.

I also wanted to a longer one shot for this, but decided against it once I was going over 2,000 words and realizing I wasn’t even partially into the story. Don’t know if every part is going to be this long, don’t know if the next parts are going to be finished, but I hope they will.

Master List

"It's your stupid face," Desire laughed, "That's why none of your relationship last. They don't care about you, just your stupid pretty face."

"Desire," Death said in a warning, "That is enough about Dream's romantic endeavors. Shall we talk of yours?"

"Sister please," Desire scoffed, "He's the only one without his soulmate. He dosent even have a mark. I'm sure if they do show up, it'll be as entertaining as his previous relationships."

"Why would that be," Dream asked his sibling, an irk of annoyance in her expression.

Desire let out a dramatic sigh. "Dream, darling, do you listen? It because of your face. You've chosen to have quite desirable looks. Though I guess you could just change the look of you physical form, or never take off that helm of yours. Then your issues would be solved."

"That's what you believe?" Dream asked in disvleived amusement. While none of his siblings voice in agreement to his thought, he started to question it. "Is that what you teuely believe? Even you my sister." He looked to Death, pleading for someone to agree with him.

"You do have a handsome face," Death begrudgingly told him with honesty, "And we all know your not much of a conversationalist."

---------

No one knew what was to come from her soulmark. People would commonly pitty those with common names, like John Smith. Some don't understand why such common anes are still around, it's easier to find a soulmate with a unique name. However her soulmark fell well beyond that category. Scralled in elegant hand writting across her fore arm were the words Dream of the Endless.

When she was young she had thought it would lead to a fairytale romance. Once she gained some sense, she knew nothing good would come from it. Her worries only got confirmed on that day an old lady in London caught a glance of it. "You poor child," she cooed, "A human with one such as them never ends up well." She just held her arm close and walked away, on edge from living in a new country.

She just ran from it. Well as much as you can run away from something on your body. She covered it up with sleeves. There was a period of time when she was looking for any tattoo artist that would be willing to tattoo over it. Which, with that being against the law, was rather difficult. She tried dating. Never did anything work out, or click for her. After years of fighting against it, she decided it was best to ignore it.

-------

The name showed up on Dream's arm near the tail end of his captivity. It was clear to tell by the name alone his soulmate was human, someone he needed to protect. He made sure no one ever saw the wonderful name on arm. No one seemed to note his sudden taking to crossing his arm across his body. He hated that he needed to wait to go to her. That he could t be at her side, protecting her.

When he escaped he wished to go find her. But he hadn't expected that his realm needed to be rebuilt. Then came the vortex.  During it all her dream book was always within reach, though he never opened it. Her thoughts would remain her own until she shared them with him. He knew that there wasbt any more time to waste. Something would happen in due time. He needed to see her, to have her in reach, to keep her safe

--------

"Are you really walking home alone at this time at night," her friend asked over the phone.

She scoffed, "You say that like this isn't a regular thing." She looked both ways down an empty street before crossing. "Besides I got my knife, and you know I can take care of myself."

Her friend let out a deep sigh from the other side of the phone. "I regret ever gifting you that knife."

"But I love it," she sang, "It's a very pretty and useful tool."

"Hey, I'm getting another call I need to take," her friend sighed, "Text me when you get home."

"Of course mother," she joked, before her friend hung up on her.

She was tucking her phone into a jacket pocket when she heard a deep voice calling her name. It seemed to become front he shadows around her.

"Sibyl," it whispered out, causing a chill to run up her back. Her hand found the knife in her pocket.

Before her, out of a swirl of sand, manifested a humanoid form. All but the head looked like a mane, dressed in black. But his head was bulbous with eyes of a bug and a trunk made of a spine. Stretched before hom was a clenched hand.

Sibyl went to pull out her knife on him. There were only a few momentes of awareness after he opened her hand the grains contained in it, flying into her face, against the wind. She tried to fight off the sleep, but she sucame to it as if it was anesthesia.

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

Sibyl awoke from a dreamless sleep, in an entirely new place. She didn't remeber going to sleep, but she did remeber the Strang being in her walk home. She bolted up from the bed, limbs flailing as she gained stable balance. She was definitely not in her room, and not even in her own flat. However after being kidnapped one would assume they'd be in a dark basement, maybe even chained up in a cell. Not in a bedroom that was befitting royalty.

The dark sheets beneath her looked to be silk but felt like soft fur. The room smelled of fresh flower, as vases of red roses where placed about the room. The floor and walls were made of the same white stone, but the ceiling appeared to be the sky itself, currently showing the color and clouds of a sunrise.

Sibyl hesitantly left the bed, moving slowly as to not make a sound. There was a door just within reach. If it was unlock, she could easily make a run for it, find some help.

She reached for the cold golden handle. With even just a slight amount of pressure, it gave way. Slowly she pushed it open, praying for the hinges not to creak. "Oh, good, you're awake," a voice cawed from the other side of the door.

Sibyl peaked through, finding there was no one in the next room. Well, except for the raven sitting on the back of a couch. "Are you alright?" the same voice asked. "You look a little shaken up." It was coming from the raven.

Sibyl looked at the creature, mildly dumbfounded. She wished she could say this was one of the weirdest things she's seen in her life. Sibyl let out a sigh, and stood up straight. She had someone watching her she couldn't just leave. "Where am I?" she asked, know it was unlike she was close to where she had been the night before.

"Not the first question I thought you'd ask," the raven confessed. "This is the Dreaming, the realm where people go to when their asleep."

Sibyl's eyebrows creesed in confusion. "But I just woke up. And..." Instead of doing to common thing of pinching herself, she brought her arm up and bit down on it. "That hurt," she mildly hissed.

"Why would you do that!?" The raven cawed, frantically flapping his wings.

Sibyl shrugged. "To check it it was a dream... Which it's not, so like, not really believing your answer."

"Are you sane? Just pinch yourself!?" The bird pointed out.

"I have a weird pain tolerance," Sibyl explained. "No seriously, where am I, and who do you serve."

The bird's head clocked in confusion. "You are taking this rather well, are you sure you don't know what's going on?"

"Bird," Sibyl sighed. "I am a jenga tower balancing on one block. By some miracle I'm alright, but one sudden movement and I'm gonna loose it."

"Maybe we should wait for Dream..." the raven said hesitantly.

Sibyl's had went to her forearm. She knew it was just a word. By he used it as a name. Just like how it was on her arm. "Dream?" she asked in worried disbelief, "As in Dream of the Endless?"

"Yeah," the bird answered sassily.

Sibyl froze, not sure how to take it all. She felt her hand start to shake. Not too long later she would lose feeling in her legs as well. So she sat down where she stood, planting her feet and hugging her knees. She needed to control both her body and thoughts. Sibyl new it best for her to do it while curled in on herself, small and safe.

The crow came and landed before her. "Are you alright?" he asked hesitantly.

"Why?" Sibyl asked through all the thoughts in her head. It wad the only clear one in the soup that was her mind. Why was this happening to her? Why was it him? Why did he kidnap her? Why was he doing this?

The far set of doors to the room opened. Sibyl was too lost in her thoughts to notice, she barely even registered the fact the bird had flown away.

She didn't return to the world until she felt a hand on her cheek. Sibyl let anger crack through her fear. She slapped away the hand and crawled back away from who ever touched her.

"Sibyl," he called out. That same velvet voice. The same dark garb. The same stupid face. Or more the lack of one. Seeing it now in better light it appeared to be more of a mask or helm than anything natural.

"What the fuck!?" Sibyl cursed out. "Why the fuck!? Who the fuck!?"

The man was crouched before her. He reached out and grabbed onto her forearms. "Everything will be explained," he assured her. "First you must calm yourself as to not bring you any harm."

Sibyl failed her arms, to pull them from his touch. "No touchy!" she hissed. "And you expect me to be calm? In this situation!? I got fucking kidnapped. And by my soulmate none the less!

Ya know for a first meeting, a 'Hi' would be nice. Maybe some flowers. Not sand to the face and kidnapping! Who do you think you are!?"

"I am Dream of the Endless," he answered calmly.

Sibyl huffed. "No dur," she groaned, "I've had that branded on my arm since I was born. I figured out who you are. But what right dose that give you to take me. It's my life I should at least have an opinion."

He had returned to standing at his full height. Sibyl still sat on the ground, glaring up at him. "I wish to protect you," he told her.

Sibyl raised an eyebrow. "You say that as thought I haven't been perfectly fine for the last 28 years."

"That was before I was freed," he confessed. "Now there are many who seek to harm me, and would use you to do so."

Sibyl glared at him in silence, slowly returning to her own two feet. "But if they didn't know of our connection, nothing would happen to me," she pointed out, "You could have just left me alone."

"And deny fate?"

"Fuck fate," Sibyl hissed. "I'm team free will baby. So just let me go back home before anyone realizes I'm gone, and everything will be fine." She wished she could see his face. To see his thoughts through his eyes. To know whatever the hell was standing in front of her was thinking.

"No," he simply disagreed.

Sibyl's rage flared up again. "NO!?" she repeated. "You have no say over my life! I don't give a shit if your my soulmate. I had a happy life, which I would like to return to."

"I will not lose you," he told her. "That's the end of this discussion." He turned and left, his dark coat fluttering behind him. The raven looked between his master and the stunned human. He chose to fly after the man in black.

Sibyl clenched her hands in anger. "Dramatic bitch."

-----------

"Uh, Boss?" Matthew hopped up to the foot of the throne. "Mind filling me in?"

Morpheus looked down at the raven , 0lacing his helm on the throne. "What is it that you don't understand?"

"I have gathered a bit," the bird said hesitantly. "That woman is your soulmate. And you brought her hear, without asking her. I just don't understand why? And why were you wearing your helm, is there some weird rule where you can't show her your face? If there is, that's a stupid rule."

Morpheus glared down at his servant. "As I told her, I have many enemies, and I don't wish her to come to harm. The one place I know she will be safe is at my side, here in the Dreaming."

Matthew ruffled his feathers, still growing used to being a bird. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "But is that what she wants? If I learned anything in my life as a human, most care more about their own happiness than anything else. Even their soulmates. Mine was already married when we met... "

"What are you implying?" Morpheus asked, threat clearly on his face.

Matthew pulled his wings in tight. "I don't know," he confessed. "Try to find some common ground or something. You don't want her hating you, do you?"

Morpheus was silent of a bit too long. But for him, that was more normal than anything else happening that day. "I shall before the day is done."

---------

Sibyl had constantly been questioned, and at one time scolded, for only memorizing one spell. That spelling being one to summon things. There are two things she uses the spell for, one being the missing remote, the other being her family grimoire. While she didn't have the spells memorized, she knew what spells were in the book. One being a teleportation spell.

Once she had regained her wits, she set off on the task to return her home. When she translated the book she wondered what "across realms" meant, but now she's geeatful her ansestors were some crafty witches messing with the universe. However, not risking leaving the room and getting found out, Sibyl needed to summon all elements of the spell. As to not tire herself out more than necessary, she did it through out the day.

It was getting close to sunset when the spell was ready to be cast. She sat in a circle drawn with her own blood. Candles of bees wax were lit, and herbs where smoking. In her hands sat an ancient leather bound book, littered with notebook papaer holding her own hand writting. Sibyl opened her mouth to start the spell.

The door to the room than opened. "I believe we should..." Dream of the Endless stood in the door way. Clearly surprised to find what was on the other side of it.

Sibyl's look changed from guilt of being caught to a sharp hating glare. "It's exactly what it looks like," she said with sass.

He was silent for a moment. "You're bleeding," he commented.

Sibyl looked to her left palm. She needed to get blood somehow. She knew not to cut too deep, but when she fist cut it blood pooled in her palm. Now it was a slow trickle down her arm, steadily dropping on the floor. "I needed to get blood from somewhere," she pointed out.

He said nothing, only stepping into the spell circle and crouching down beside her. He grabbed her hand, gently pulling it away from the book, as to look at it closer. He held it was if it were a fragile flower that could fall apart at any moment. Sibyl had expected his touch to be cold, going of his deminure. But his long finger held warmth.

"You wish to be away from me su much so you would harm yourself?" he asked, a slight tinge of fear in his voice. In his hands appeared Bandages, which he stated carefully wrapping around her hand, to stop what bleed was left and prevent infection.

"I wish for my decision to not be taken away from me," Sibyl told him. While it still wasn't king or calm, it had the least amount of malice she spoke with to him yet. "I can make my own decisions, so let me." Sibyl could feel his gaze on her even through the thing on his head. It was in contemplation.

"If it's a choice you want, I'll give you one," he offered, tying off the bandage. "Stay with me in the Dreaming for a Moon cycle. After the moon is new again, you can make a decision. Be it to stay or return to the waking world. I will not interfere with any choice you make then." He had stood up, looking down at Sibyl. He outstretched his hand to her.

Sibyl looked up at him in curiosity. Her face scrunched in thought. One side of her lips curled up in a smirk, Dream found it quite endearing. "One moon cycle?" she questioned for confermation. "27 days? Tonight's a new moon so the next new moon?"

He simply nodded, still holding out his hand. With a be grudging sigh Sibyl took his hand with her bandaged one, standing up. "If you go back on your word, I'm using your blood next time," she threatened.

"That will not come to pass," Morpheus assured her. He enjoyed having her hand in his. Instinctively her started running his thumb over her knuckles. That only caused her to pull away. Dream clenched his hand behind his back. Humans are strange creatures, they take time to accept people.

"You must be tired from the Witchcraft you have preformed today," the Dream Lord commented. "Rest. I will have a meal delivered to your room."

He left with a bow of his head. Before the door shut behind him, the circle of her blood was washed away in a dust of sand.

#the sandman #sandman comics #sandman x reader #netflix sandman #sandman x oc #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #Morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x original character

[sardinesandhumbugs]

30 "when you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart" with Ratty and Mole?

(Also, I haven't actually watched any starkid musicals those were suggested by @residentofskinnymandria but I will be looking into them this weekend :D)

A/N: Thank you for the prompt and for your patience! I procrastinated somewhat on this because for my other OTPs, I would usually go straight for the romance with a starter like this, but by now y'all know that when it comes to Ratty & Mole, the line between romantic and platonic tends to be up to reader interpretation :)

Also a shout-out to @wolfiethewriter for unwittingly providing inspiration for this ficlet, by getting hilariously drunk a few nights back during our Midnight Sun readthrough. I only hope you fared better the next morning than Rat :D

x

Categorically, Rat knew there were worse ways to wake.

But, as Toad started on his fifth verse of 'What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor?' Rat found he could think of no such examples.

He muttered something unsavoury and buried himself deeper into the recesses of the caravan, far from the prying, headache-inducing light of day, and far, far away from Toad's over-exuberant singing – for what little good it would do him. For Toad had inherited his mother's operatic lungs, if quantifiably not her pitch-perfect tone, and both were on full display that morning.

(It could not be said that Toad was a bad singer. It was simply the case that enthusiasm preceded vocal form, and he cared little for meddling things such as keys or sharps and flats when the mood took him. Regardless, even if Toad's voice had been flawless, Rat wouldn't have had the patience for it. Not today. The careening key changes were just the icing on the cake.)

The song briefly rose as the caravan door opened, and Rat recoiled as much from the intrusion of light as he did from Toad's blasted singing. Then the aroma of eggs and bacon hit him, and he begrudgingly shuffled his snout out of the cool, dark safety of the bedcovers.

Mole stood before him, fried offering in paw, and looking significantly less the worse for wear after their previous night's inebriations than Rat. He grinned, and set the breakfast down on the table beside the bed. "Well," he said, "I've never seen you sleep in this late."

"This isn't sleeping in," Rat muttered. "It's suffering."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before drinking so much yesterday," Mole said, the faint admonishment in his tone outweighed by the amusement.

"I'm not a lightweight," Rat grumbled. "It's just whatever Toad puts in his damn drinks to make them green always knocks me out."

"And makes you very drunk, apparently."

Rat hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to know the answer to his next question. "How drunk?"

Mole grinned again. "Nothing too embarrassing. You mostly just gabbled and then got distressed when you couldn't pronounce a word properly."

"What word?"

"I believe it was library."

"...Library?" Rat echoed. "How–"

"You kept saying 'liblary' instead."

"Libla...?"

"Liblary, hm-mm. The second 'l' kept creeping in, however hard you tried otherwise." The humour in Mole's voice betrayed that Rat's efforts, while in vain, had been quite the show.

Rat considered this as best he could while the sensation of galloping horses gallivanted between his ears. Eventually he located what he hoped would be a safe question. "Why were we talking about libraries?"

"Oh, we weren't – just you. Goodness knows why, and we thought it best not to ask."

"DON'T LET HIM STEER THAT CARGO FREIGHTER, DON'T LET HIM STEER THAT CARGO FREIGHTER, DON'T LET HIM STEER THAT CARGO FREIGHTER, URL-EYE IN THE MORNING!"

With a wince, Rat turned a reluctant ear to Toad's questionable shanty rendition, trying to figure out if the words were indeed what he was hearing, or whether it was simply the effects of the hangover. "What verse is Toad on now?"

Mole chuckled. "Ones of his own creation. I think he ran out of official verses he could recall a while back."

As if to compound that fact, Toad skipped the refrain entirely and overshot to the next verse, of which the origin was undoubtedly a Toad Special.

"PUT HIM IN THE LIBLARY 'TIL HE'S SOBER, PUT HIM IN THE LIBLARY 'TIL HE'S SOBER, PUT HIM IN THE LIBLARY 'TIL HE'S SOBER, URL-EYE IN THE MORNING!"

Rat winced again. "I'm not living this one down, am I?"

"Oh, Toad will forget in time," Mole said, with surprisingly surety for someone who had spent only a day and a half in Toad's presence. But, then again, Toad was not the most complicated of creatures. However, Rat noted that Mole didn't make any mention of himself forgetting any time soon.

Mole nudged the plate closer to Rat. "Eat up. You'll feel better for it."

Rat had half a mind to make a comment about food being Mole's solution to everything, but then he caught another whiff of breakfast and his stomach gave an audible rumble. He pushed himself up and made a start on the meal.

"Just out of curiosity," Mole said, "why did you drink so much of Toad's cocktails if you know you always suffer the next day?"

"Honest answer?" Rat asked. "I forgot."

"You... forgot?"

"I had..." and Rat paused as Toad butchered another verse, "more pressing issues on my mind."

Both animals waited out Toad's latest crescendo, enduring the new volumes before he petered out to more acceptable levels.

"Would those issues be green and singing?" Mole asked.

"Usually."

Rat had worked his way through a rash and a half of bacon before Mole spoke again, and the distance between the words belayed an uneasy deliberation. "You didn't have to come along," Mole said. He sat on the bench that ran along the inner of the caravan, which served as table space and seating as the need arose, and the ledge was set just a smidgen too high so that his paws only brushed the floor. "You know, out on the open road. Not if you didn't want to."

"Ah, well," Rat said, "then who would keep you and Toad out of trouble?"

"I think we would have managed."

Rat squinted. "No offence, Moley, but I know you, and I know Toad–" he gestured to the window from which Toad's performance was still going strong, and then immediately regretted it as the alcohol residing in his system sent his head spinning "–and you are both many things, but 'out of trouble' is not one of them."

"We survived this morning without mishap."

There was a crash from outside, followed by a cry of, "It's alright! Everything's good! No need to check!" from Toad.

"Mostly," Mole amended.

"Definitely sounds like you have everything under control here," Rat deadpanned.

"I'm sure everything's fine."

There was another thump, this time accompanied by the unimpressed whinny of the horse.

Mole and Rat exchanged glances.

Mole closed the window. "Look, Ratty, all I'm saying is that you needn't have felt obliged to come along if you'd rather have stayed on your river." He glanced to the wicker luncheon basket that was still half-full from yesterday, and which had seemingly swayed Rat in his decision to accompany the caravan. "We could have had our picnics on the riverbank instead."

"We?" Rat echoed.

"Well, of course. Do you really think I would have gone off on the Life Adventurous without you?"

Rat didn't immediately respond. The horses in his head had calmed, but the outcome was simply that he had more space to think properly through the last couple of days. Truth be told, he hadn't quite been sure which Mole would have chosen – him or the open road – and he hadn't been interested in putting it to the test. His mind played back the eagerness with which Mole had rootled through the caravan, exploring the compact living wagon and settling in with an ease that made Rat wonder whether the caravan's claustrophobic space reminded Mole of his own beneath-ground home. It certainly was a far cry from Rat's riverbank abode, where the house had the space to sprawl along the shoreline and the freshwater breeze meant the air was never still. Not like being underground, he was sure.

"Ratty?"

He had been lost in his thoughts for too long, and now Mole leant into his line of vision. Rat had to think quickly to recall what exactly Mole had asked.

"No, of course not," he said. "Only – well, I would have hated for you to have stayed on the riverbank only on my behalf."

"Like you came along here on mine?"

“And for the picnics,” Rat added. “Don’t forget the picnics.”

“Right,” Mole said with a laugh that said he wasn’t buying Rat’s offhanded dismissal any more than Rat believed it. “How could I forget the picnics?” He patted Rat’s paw and swung off the seat. “Well, you can put all thoughts of picnics from your mind until you’ve recovered — and maybe in future we stick to drinks we’re familiar with, hm?”

“Maybe,” Rat conceded.

It was as Mole threw him one last grin and disappeared out of the caravan that Rat came to the reluctant conclusion that, whether or not his housemate was aware of it, Mole had him wrapped around his little claw. He set the emptied plate to one side and collapsed back into the bunk, thankful for the small mercy that at least Toad had stopped singing—

“Feeling better finally?”

Rat jolted back up, and had to steady himself against the table as his head swam. He located Toad at the window. “Toad! How long have you been there?”

“I don’t know; I wasn’t keeping track.” Toad leant in against the windowsill conspiringly. “If I had known all it’d take for you to join me would be the smile off an undergrounder, I’d have dug him out ages ago.”

Rat grumbled but decided he was still too hungover to bicker over it.

Besides, it was somewhat difficult to argue with when it was true.

#dratandbotherbotheranddrat #replies #cat writes #wind in the willows musical #witw fanfic #did I partially write this just for the amusement of 'what shall we do with the drunken sailor' being applied to rat? #...maybe #things I said I didn't write: drunk fics #things I have now written twice: drunk fics #wolfie you are a terrible influence #also mole has a stomach of steel and toad drinks his green drinks regularly #or regularly enough for him to be immune #so rat is the only one in the open road who is going to suffer #also on a rewatch I realised that the cocktails they drink at the beginning of 'the open road' aren't green #they just look that way in the light #but too late they're green now #it always amuses me how at the beginning of the open road #they start with cocktails and by the end have moved onto beer #oh and for what it's worth that mispronunciation of 'library' is one I am guilty of #not even when drunk either #also wolfie you didn't gabble don't worry #I'm just using how I behave when tired #also in the book toad gets rat to agree to the open road by convincing mole first #he literally realises that rat will agree if mole does #so he sets to work convincing mole instead #which im sorta leaning on here

[silksandcravats]

All Tied Up - Viscount!Kylo

Once again I find myself taking my sweet time with the backstory kylo piece so in its place please accept another piece of viscount!kylo smut <3

Lady Ren stumbles across a rather indecent piece of literature which leads to her taken certain sexual liberties with her husband OR reader insert ties Kylo to the bed.

masterlist

Warnings/contents: fem!reader, bondage, PIV sex, unprotected sex, regency era, reader still has limited sexual knowledge, historical inaccuracies probably

You fidgeted with the ribbons in your hand, turning them over and over again. Blue felt like as good a colour as any to use. It was a wicked idea, surely not one that might be expected from a gently bred lady such as yourself. But then, the idea wasn’t originally yours, that terribly indecent book was to blame. And it’s not like you sought the book out! You had only been seeking out the newest Jane Austen novel, which had the town abuzz (though the opinion of the female author herself was rather mixed). 

You, unfortunately, had been rather late to hearing about the work, meaning there was not a copy to be spared in all of Mayfair. Not to be deterred, you had linked arms with your ladies maid, and bribed one of your coachmen a whole two pounds to take you into the city. (The act of bribery had become necessary after the man expressed concern that the Viscount might not approve of your excursion, he was right of course but you were not easily dissuaded.)

Whilst scouring the shelves of that London bookshelf, you noticed a book at the end of the row had been turned down so the spine was hidden and pushed back slightly as if someone had been trying to hide it. Upon further inspection you found the title to be, “The art of Basketweaving”. 

How curious, you thought to yourself, turning the book over in your hands. Why would anyone have need to hide this? 

It took only a brief look inside for you to realise the book had nothing to do with baskets at all. Your cheeks grew very hot and you slammed the book shut, not wanting to be caught reading it, at least not here. And so in the end you returned to Mayfair with a very different sort of book.

Which lead you up to now, sitting in your bedchambers, awaiting your husband who should return from parliament any time now. You turned the book open to study the position once more. It was the most devious, most erotic drawing you had ever seen. The way the man’s wrists had been crossed over and snuggly tied to the bedpost, the way the woman on top appeared to be lowering herself onto him, you had to admit you hadn’t even known it was possible!

You slammed the book quickly when you heard approaching footsteps you knew belonged to your husband. You hid the book in the top drawer of your writing desk, beneath loose stationery, and pushed the door shut.

The Viscount used your first name to greet you, coming into the room just as you tossed the ribbons onto the bed.

“Hello darling,” you smiled turning to face him. You felt slightly nauseous as you watched his eyes flicker briefly to the ribbon on the bed. You made yourself take a deep breath as he turned back to you, trying to force your nerves to calm, he didn’t know what you were up to, he couldn’t.

“I did not expect to find you here at this time of day,” he spoke walking towards you. You hated when he looked at you this way - like he already knew all of your secrets, but you knew you couldn’t look away, that would be as good as branding yourself with the word “guilty”.

“I was hoping we might enjoy each other’s company for a while, before dinner,” you did your best to sound innocent, snaking your arms around his neck.

“Is that so?” He queried, his hands coming down to grasp your waist.

“Yes,” you breathed, tipping your face up to meet his. He kissed you briefly, before pulling back.

“And what might be the occasion?” 

“No occasion,” you shook your head, tugging slightly at his cravat. He hummed thoughtfully but didn’t reply, allowing you to pull the material free. You knew he was suspicious, but he didn’t push, allowing you to pull through his layers. His hands roamed you, undressing you at a much slower pace than you were him. And so when you finished you splayed your hands across his chest, and leaned forward, kissing slowly up his torso. 

“You’re very eager,” he noted, finally removing your drawers.

“Is such a sin to want one’s husband?” You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping to replace his curiosity with lust.

“Not at all,” He smirked, pulling your now naked form closer to him and kissing you again. You knew you had to be careful here, one wrong move and you would end up below him, and then you might as well forget your plans. You let your hands roam him a moment longer and slowly, slowly backed him up to the bed and then-

“I know you left Mayfair today,” He broke away, speaking down to you. Your brows furrowed.

“How did you-”

“I gave him five pounds.” 

He then took you by surprise, dropped back on the bed, and pulling you along on top of him. This was good, now he was right where you wanted him. 

“Five?” You gasped, trying to linger on the topic of staff rather than your unauthorised outing. “We shall be out a coachman when he runs off with his new fortune.” 

His fingertips grazed the flesh of your hips, tracing your skin, his touch was sinful but you couldn’t allow yourself to bask in it now, you needed his hands higher up. Your situation was still quite precarious after all, he might flip you onto your back at any moment.

“I don’t know what was more foolish, you leaving Mayfair or thinking I wouldn’t know,” he admonished. You grasped his hands, feeling pleased when he cooperated, and dragged them up slowly.

“I did bring Daisy along,” you pointed out, frowning innocently.

“I’m beginning to believe I allow you too many liberties, perhaps I ought to take you in hand,” He spoke suggestively, the meaning of his words not lost on you. His eyes were darkening, you were running out of time, if you were going to act it had to be now.

“Actually,” you leaned in.

All at once, you took over. In a speed even you hadn’t known you possessed, you snatched up your hair ribbons, which were already within arms reach, and shoved his wrists against the headboard, tossing one over the other and tied them to the spot, quickly and firmly. You prayed it was tight enough.

“I should like to take a few more liberties before the day is through,” your lips ghosted over his, your stomach lurched at the boldness of your actions but you held your composure.

“You devilish woman,” he pulled his head back from you, leaning against the pillow to look up at your handiwork. He survived the bonds for a moment but made no effort to yank free, instead he sighed.

“That was very clever of you darling,” he admitted, turning his gaze from his hands to meet you again. “But what do you plan to do now that you have me?”

“A great many things I should think,” you spoke boldly. You reached down and grasped his length, first loosely, then you tightened a bit, give him a few teasing strokes. You watched proudly as his already partially hard cock grew firmer in your grip, fully standing at attention now. Still in the first bloom of marriage, you hadn’t mastered his body yet. You were still learning the best ways to touch and tease. 

A few drops were beginning to collect at his tip so you swiped your thumb along his slit, collecting the moisture, the contact making him hiss. And then, feeling incredibly vulgar, you lifted your thumb to your mouth and licking slowly. Kylo let out a shameless moan in response, watching you with great interest. This was going very well indeed.

“And where might my sweet little wife get such a wicked idea from?” He quirked a brow, watching your hand work him. Even now, bound to the bed he looked calm and collected, and perhaps even somehow still in control. In fact, he looked almost as if he was lying in the garden of your country home, basking in the summer sun. 

You didn’t answer. He was fully and entirely erect now and so you pulled away, leaning up on his thighs and looking down at him with determination. Your hand slipped between your legs and you touched yourself, pushing two fingers inside of yourself and moving them in a sort of scissoring motion the way Kylo always did before he took you. It wasn’t the same of course, your fingers were smaller and you couldn’t work yourself open the same way, but you did your best given your position. 

“If you need help wife, you need but ask,” he chimed, watching you touch yourself. His demeanour was still collected but there was a hunger in his eyes, clearly you weren’t the only one who wished it was his fingers plunged inside of you.

“That’s quite alright husband,” you shook your head, pulling your fingers away and moving above him. You grasped him again aligning himself to your opening and taking a deep breath.

“Go ahead, darling.”

Perhaps he was asking you to hurry along because he was eager, but it was also possible his words were encouraging, and you couldn’t have him thinking you were nervous, so you briskly lowered yourself all the way down, filling yourself to the brim. You both moaned loudly at your action. 

You hadn’t been able to open yourself up as well as he does, so the stretch of him burned more deeply than you were used to causing you to wince. Being on top you knew you had all the time you would like to adjust, but you couldn’t give your husband the satisfaction of knowing how affected you were.

And so you adjusted slightly and, -consequential soreness be damned- you began rocking yourself on top of him, up and down. The third time you moved you went too far and he slipped out of you. You nearly cursed but instead you simply repositioned and tried again. 

It took you a few tries to set a rhythm, and Kylo, knowing when and when to not tease his wife, kept his amusement to himself as best he could while you gathered your bearings. Finally, you slipped into a fluid pattern, bouncing on top of him rather pleasantly.

Whenever Kylo bedded you, he fully sheathed himself with every single thrust, knocking against something deep inside of you, and he couldn’t help but notice that now that it was your turn you made sure to never drop all the way down. Not because you didn’t enjoy the feeling, he knew you liked it quite a bit, but rather he realised it was too intense for you to subject yourself to. 

It felt wonderful to have him this way, but it was taking quite a bit of energy to maintain your pace and you were beginning to develop a newfound sense of respect that he was able to ravish you so frequently and for so long. You knew you’d be able to finish this way, and you were fairly sure he could too, and so you willed yourself to carry on. It wasn’t until you begin to pant softly that Kylo couldn’t resist speaking up.

“You seem to be overexerting yourself, dear, shall I take over for you?” He cooed, his voice sweet and heavy like honey. It was a tempting proposition, to roll over and let him have you, but you finally held power in your grasps, and who knows when you might have it again?

“N-no,” you shook your head violently, picking up the speed even though your muscles were screaming, begging you to stop.

“Very well, come here then,” he nodded once, urging you toward him. You complied, sliding your hands further up his chest and leaning down to kiss him. Once he had your mouth on him he began to move beneath you, rocking up in time with you so that the next time you came down he slid farther inside of you knocking against your cervix making you screech his name, and then he did it again, and again.

“Touch yourself for me,” he groaned against your mouth. And so you did without thinking, having to shift in the process so you could reach, which only allowed him to further space to thrust up into you. You couldn’t believe it, he was topping from the bottom? 

“Oh Kylo!” you exclaim, jolting when your fingers found your own little bud.

“That’s it darling,” he groaned, his own composure beginning to cripple, “come with me.” Your chest tightened, your rocking had grown sloppy and he was doing the bulk on the work now, he pushed up into you once, twice more and then your world shattered. Your eyes squeezed shut and your head tilted back, your mouth falling ajar. You felt him finish inside of you, gushing around your walls. 

You were breathing heavily, even after the effects of your release had faded, feeling utterly and completely exhausted.

“That was excellent my love,” he spoke, and before you had the chance to free him, he tugged away from the bonds all on his own. The ribbons fell to the bed and you realised he had merely been allowing you to believe you had him subdued. He leaned up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you down to the bed. In instant, you were lying on your back and he on his side, holding you tenderly and wrapping you up in sheets. 

“But in the future, I should think it better suited if you were the one in bondage, dear wife.” He dropped a swift kiss on your cheek. “And we will be having a discussion later about your little trip.”

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#visocunt!kylo #kylo ren #kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fic #regency!kylo #regency au #kylo ren x you #adam driver x you #ben solo #ben solo smut #kylo ren writing #adam driver smut #ben solo writing #kylo ren fluff

[moonbeam-writing]

♡ Day Three: Stupid Cupid ♡

❥ Character: Karma Akabane (Assassination Classroom)

❥ Prompt: Enemies/Rivals to Lovers (+ a hint of Mutual Pining)!

❥ Quick Note: I don't even know how to explain how much fun I had writing this and I'm so excited for the other drabbles to be posted!!

❥ Warnings: None!

❥ Word Count: 2,012

— ♡ —

(Y/N) left out a long sigh as she sat on the balcony of the girl's hotel room. The Kyoto trip had been far more exhausting than she anticipated, though that was partially her fault. With Koro-Sensei as a teacher and Karma back from suspension, she should have known better.

(Y/N) and Karma grew up together, and despite being civil enough to each other, their personalities seemed to clash just enough for something of a rivalry to be formed. Neither of them even knew what they were fighting with the other about. It wasn't who was stronger or more violent, nor was it about who was smarter. They just seemed to need to be better than the other and that was that.

Rio Nakamura, on the other hand, was convinced that she knew the reason. According to her, their little competition was based on who could hide their feelings better. Rio and Koro-Sensei were so sure that the two had feelings for each other, though, obviously, neither of them wanted to admit it.

(Y/N)’s best friend and their teacher came up with a bunch of reasons as to why the two wouldn't admit things. Some of the most likely reasons they had come up with was that Karma just flat out wasn't the type who knew how to deal with his feelings, (Y/N) would be too anxious to make the first move and would rather die, the two were just intimidated by the possible change that it could bring.

As much as (Y/N) hated to admit it, they were right on some level. She liked him, but was horrified by the changes it could bring. The two had spent so long arguing with each other that she wasn't sure what they’d do otherwise. She didn't know where she’d be without Karma’s snarky remarks.

“Penny for your thoughts, sunshine?” A relatively fitting and oftenly used term for Karma Akabane: Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

Suppressing an smile and instead, rolling her eyes, (Y/N) turned to Karma. The usual smug and teasing smirk he normally wore was plastered onto his lips and all she could do was look back out ahead of herself again before answering.

“Maybe if you were someone else.” She quietly chuckled to herself, moving her eyes to look at him again. “What are you doing here, anyway? Isn't Koro-Sensei still on the loose?”

“Probably.” The redhead shrugged, mirroring the girl beside him. He had to admit, the girls had a nice view.

Karma’s answer took (Y/N) by surprise. “What do you mean? Normally you’re first in line to go after him.” Her shock sounded in her voice and Karma couldn't keep his smirk from widening. “Also, what are you doing here? The room you would have needed to go into to get here is for the girls.”

“Aw, come on, (Y/N)!” Karma heaved a dramatic sigh. “Can’t I just come talk to my favorite girl?”

Though he posed the question like he were kidding, Karma was being completely honest. Despite how the two would often bicker like children, Karma really did feel somewhat close to the girl. After all, wouldn't it be rather difficult not to feel close to someone you've argued, bantered with, and competed against since you were little?

Granted, aside from the rival status that had been bestowed upon them, he recognized that his rivalry with (Y/N) was far different from his rivalry with Asano. He couldn't possibly convey how grateful he was for that. He wasn’t sure that he could cope if (Y/N) hated him.

This rivalry was much more positive and the two of them knew it. They were always secretly proud of whoever came out on top, outwardly giving a sarcastic comment or childish gesture. The two of them also always had the other’s back, despite not always outwardly showing it. That being said, (Y/N) has always blamed Karma for that, due to the fact that he could always seem to take care of himself.

“There’s no way I’m your favorite girl, Akabane. Your favorite girl to annoy? Sure. However, Okuda’s actually your favorite girl.” (Y/N) responded, keeping her tone witty and joking, however there was a slightly bitter edge to it.

(Y/N) would have loved to believe that she was Karma’s favorite girl like he had said, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. With Okuda’s brain power, specifically in regards to science, Karma could find quite the partner in crime inside of her after finding her wild side. After all, that was one of the things that Karma did best, at least in (Y/N)’s eyes. He was always so good at helping people let go. 

“Ha ha, I can understand where your mind is probably at, but you’re wrong.” Karma pointed out, turning himself to look at (Y/N) once again. “I barely know her. You, on the other hand, are someone I know. I’ve been bickering with you for years, (Y/N). If you didn’t amuse me in some way, we wouldn’t talk anymore, and I talk to you the most.”

Karma’s words left (Y/N) feeling conflicted. Was he being honest with her? He normally always was, but for some reason she just couldn't find herself believing it. What he said might have been true under normal circumstances, but (Y/N) couldn't see herself as someone who would fall under “normal circumstances”.

Despite her thoughts, (Y/N) couldn't help but laugh a little, though once again, it was more bitter than she anticipated. Regardless, the devilish boy beside her loved the sound.

“I’m sure. Just go back, Karma. Everyone’s probably going to come back soon, you wouldn’t want any of the questions that would follow if you were seen here with me.”

“Okay, and? Half the time they don't question my motives for things, and even then, I don't care.”

(Y/N) mentally swore to herself. She should have known that he would have a way to counter anything she said. Karma always did and it didn't sit right with her sometimes.

Despite how much she secretly adored the sadist, their rivalry absolutely wasn’t good in terms of how (Y/N) would occasionally see herself. To (Y/N), Karma would always be better than her, he would always be right. She had to admit that. It made her proud of him, sure, but it was also frustrating. She couldn’t help but get into her own head about it. (Y/N) always tried her best to get ahead of him, and though she’s supposedly had a few victories, (Y/N) knew that Karma was always going to be better than her. It was just an unspoken fact at this point.

“Right,” (Y/N) relented with a sigh. “Sorry.”

“You should be!” Karma answered as though he were stating the obvious. The girl beside him flinched slightly as though she had done something wrong.

Though Karma wasn't always the best with his own feelings, he could read others like a book. Even more so the girl he has always considered to be his best friend and one-and-only. Karma knew exactly what’s been going on in her head and it bums him out every time. So, with all of that said, the boy decided that tonight he’d put all of his thoughts about her out into the open. She seemed as though she needed to hear something nice about herself.

“You need to think more of yourself, (Y/N)!” Karma couldn't help but smile at the slight widening of (Y/N)’s eyes. Her reactions were some of his favorites.

“What?” (Y/N) almost immediately felt guilt pooling in her stomach. It were as though she were a little kid again and she was caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to and (Y/N) knew Karma noticed. He was too observant to miss it.

Karma’s smirk was as lively as ever. As nice as he wanted to be to the girl beside him, he couldn't help but tease her a little. If anything, he was sure it might cheer her up a little.

“You're so mean to yourself! You spend so much time worrying about whether or not you can actually compete against me, you've been destroying yourself.” He noticed (Y/N)’s grip on the rail in front of her tighten. “If you worry so much about something you’re already succeeding in, you’ll get wrinkles. The smile lines by your eyes are cute, but do you really want more?” He chuckled out, noticing the slight slack in her grip on the railing and the genuine, amused laugh that left her. It was small, but there.

“Getting kind words of caution from you? I never would have thought. To what do I owe the pleasure of those words, Akabane?”

Karma mentally celebrated his win in his head as amused and playful sarcasm laced itself in her words.

He gave a false hum as though he were in thought. “Do you really want to know?”

“You literally just dug yourself into a hole. You know I hate it when people hide things from me.” Karma just laughed as (Y/N) sat there with a pout. “Karma!” She whined. “Tell me!”

“You really wanna know?”

The two could feel the anticipation in the air. It sat heavily between them, but it wasn’t necessarily negative.

“Of course I do! You know I do.”

Once again, Karma found himself snickering at (Y/N). She could just be too cute at times.

“Okay. In that case...” In a very fitting fashion, Karma sat quietly for a moment, adding to (Y/N)’s suspense. “I love you. You’re my favorite rival, my best friend, and somewhere along the way I realized that I love you. You’re the best, (Y/N), and honestly better than me at most things unless it’s math or torture.” He threw a mildly flirty wink her way, taking in the way she averted her gaze away from him, the barely noticeable tint to her cheeks and ears. Karma knew he made the right move.

The two found themselves engulfed in silence again, still full of anticipation, though this time was different. It hinged entirely on (Y/N).

“Really?” Her voice was soft as she looked at Karma in surprise. He nodded at her with a shockingly soft smile. “I love you too.”

Karma grinned widely at her. “I'm not entirely sure on what to do next, I'm going to be completely honest with you.”

The pair laughed together and (Y/N) reached out to take his hand. It was all so new for her and it genuinely made her nervous, but she couldn't help it.

Using their connected hands, Karma pulled (Y/N) closer to him. Nothing big happened, just the two holding hands and being close together.

Until, they heard some noise, that is.

(Y/N) and Karma weren’t sure just how they hadn’t noticed before, probably from being so wrapped up in each other, but nearly right in their line of sight was Koro-Sensei, scribbling away in his little notebook.

The shock of their teacher seemingly coming out of nowhere faded quickly though, as Karma pulled out one of the specially made guns from the pocket of his pants and shot at Koro-Sensei. Unfortunately for the new couple, none of them hit, however it got him to stop writing about them, so they didn't exactly lose.

“You know, I always knew this day would come!” Koro-Sensei exclaimed in his usually theatrical way. “I knew it as soon as Karma was let off of his suspension.”

“Um, okay?”

“Ah, young love. Well, I’ll let you kids get back to it! Though, the girls are back, so good luck!” And just like that, their teacher blasted himself away from the situation at Mach 20.

“Okay, Karma.” (Y/N) sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “We have two options. You can either help me sneak away, or we can face the music.”

“We'll just see what happens first.”

#valentine's day event! #assassination classroom #assassination classroom oneshot #assassination classroom drabble #karma x reader #karma #karma akabane x reader #karma akabane #karma akabane x reader oneshot #karma akabane x reader drabble

[nordleuchten]

Hey! I love your work about Lafayette and I'm slowly going through your posts,there are so many! :D I have 3 random unrelated questions that you might have already answered somewhere, so feel free to ignore them if you have. 1) what's your reasoning behind choosing to use "La Fayette" rather than "Lafayette" as he mostly styled it himself? I know the (possible) reasons why he did that, just curious about you. 2) where does your URL come from? And 3) have your ever written about the Hermione?

Hello echo-bleu,

it is always great to hear that what I am doing here is not merely for self-amusement but that people enjoy it :-)

You asked three questions so you shall receive three answers.

First - the spelling. I mainly spell La Fayette the way I do out of habit. The first book I ever read about La Fayette (Memoirs of the Marquis de La Fayette, Major-General of the Revolutionary Army of the United States of America, 1825 by Fredrick Butler) spelled him in two words and that somewhat stuck with me. Furthermore here in Europe he is quite often still referred to as “La Fayette” instead of “Lafayette”. “La Fayette” is furthermore the “original” spelling of the name. His ancestors spelled themselves this way (although it should be noted that we have letters from his grandfather that probably say “Lafayette”) and it is also the name that appears on official records (La Fayette’s marriage contact for example). He himself spelled his name any way he wanted. Many editors of his papers have unified the spelling but a look at the handwritten originals shows you that he wrote “Lafayette”, “LaFayette” and almost any other variation one can think of. Some people say that there is no letter that has a space between the La and the Fayette while other people (myself included) would argue that there are letters with such a spacing. Same goes for his friends and acquaintances - you see different spellings in their writings and sometimes even different spellings in one and the same document. “Lafayette” in one word though is definitely more time efficient to write and easier to remember, especially for his English speaking friends. The Marquis also often used abbreviations of his name, in that case it was most often “LA”, “L.F” or “L.F.” and the placing of the dots can be used as an argument that La and Fayette were intended to be separate. Some of the most well regarded La Fayette-scholars could not agree on the spelling. It seems that that now and then many people were unsure of the spelling and that La Fayette himself more or less did not care and with all this confusion going on I stick to what I initially learned and came in contact with - although I am aware that it is not the most traditional choice to say the least.

You sometimes also see the theory that the purposely changed the spelling of his name with the onset of the French Revolution but this theory is mostly discarded now. I just recently read an essay by Louis R. Gottschalk on the whole spelling matter (an article I only partial agree with, but then again, who am I to disagree?) and he explained that there is not really much evidence for such a statement. There is the writing of one rather questionable biographer to back this up and the circumstance that apparently Adrienne purposefully changed the spelling from “la Fayette” to “Lafayette” during the Revolution.

Second - I chose the URL “nordleuchten” because it reminded me of my home, northern lights and lighthouses (and because that one was still available ;-))

Third - yes and no. I have a number of pictures from Hermione here on the blog and also mentioned the ship several times in my posts but there is no post solely dedicated to this special ship. If you would like, I could make one in the future :-)

I hope you have/had a phenomenal day!

#ask me anything #echo-bleu #lafayette #marquis de lafayette #general lafayette #la fayette #historical lafayette #frederick butler #louis r gottschalk #adrienne de lafayette #adrienne de noailles #hermione #history

[maybe-theres-hope]

Of Will and Wildflowers, Part 3 (Final)

It’s here! Thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me: @oquinn53, @reyeslonestar, @howtosingit, @a-l-ias, @mtnofgrace, @descending-into-the-crazies @pragmaticoptimist34 if I forgot anyone please let me know! 

Special thanks to my husband for reading this and making sure all my typos were gone :)

Tarlos | period drama/grudging acquaintances to lovers | Part 3/3 | This part: 10,877w | Total: 33,427w

Part 1 | Part 2

Read on AO3

Mr. Strand,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that your journey home was swift and uneventful. The entire house has been mourning yours and father’s departure since you left us. Mamà is convinced the lights are dimmer without the ambience of your father’s amusing anecdotes. 

Elena has been lamenting the fullness of the house as well. She is easily bored without some new distraction every fortnight, but she swears she will convince you to visit again someday. I dare say we all will thank her if she can manage it.

In deference to our conversation, I will not try. I know you would not appreciate my needling. 

Raquel cannot be bothered with the mundane occurrence of the comings and goings of visitors while she daydreams of castles and knights, so her opinion has not been asked. She still insists on helping Mrs. Smith in the kitchen, and Mamà still insists on having fits about it. 

I must agree with my sister and mother, however. The house is a little less bright these days. Usually we can count upon sunlight and laughter to get us through the day, but those seem fleeting of late. 

Flor misses you as well. She’s ornery when I ride her, as if she remembers a more beloved companion and I do not measure up. We lament your departure together when we meander the grounds. 

Jimena is not often in the stable, so her opinion has not been ascertained either. 

But enough of our melancholy!

How is it to be home? Travel can make us all weary, and you seemed so tired even before you set off. I hope you are feeling better in your own comfortable surroundings. Texas will always welcome you, but I know how good it is to feel your own dirt under your shoes. Please tell me something joyful, so that I can remember your face in gladness.

Your friend,

Christina Reyes

My dear friend,

As I sit beside the fire tonight, I am reminded of our last conversation. I am evermore grateful that you are taking on the no doubt immense burden of being my confidant while keeping our correspondence regarding these matters private from your family. Do not mistake me, if you at any time feel as though your obligation to me is taking precedent over your cherished feelings of love toward your family, please by all means give me but a word and I will cease my incessant pining.

Oh how I pine, dear Christina. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of the sound of rolling grass and smell wildflowers where there are none to be found. The city is bleak these days, and dark. What once was a welcome cacophony of life and commerce is now to me a teeming mass of sensation that I can barely stand for more than a moment. I long to feel the shift of earth under Flor’s hooves again, and for the caress of the soft breeze against my cheeks. 

But enough of that for now. You asked in your letter for something joyful. My father has secured a deal with a contractor out West, and his—our line will stretch right to the Pacific, culminating at the coast. A fully developed coast to coast line, my father’s dream. It makes me so happy to see him so elated when he talks of it, and of me taking over it in time. I do not like to talk of him being gone, but it is inevitable he says. Men grow old, and pass on. He says what matters most is that we make a mark on the world we can be proud of, and that we touch people in ways that matter. 

I cannot help but think that I have done neither. 

I apologize again for my melancholy. When I sit to write to you I never intend to make you sad. Please, rejoice for my father and his accomplishments, for they reflect on me as well. I will take comfort in his happiness, and you can take comfort in my feeling it. That is enough for now. 

Your friend,

TK Strand

TK,

I must address the most pressing concern from your letter immediately. You have touched us all, please know that. Please do not think you have not made a mark on the world, for our home would not have been the bright happy place it was while you were here without you to provide that light. Every day is a little darker, as I’ve said before, without you and your father in our midst. 

Everyone is a little darker. Especially my brot

But enough of melancholy, as you said. I am delighted to hear of your father’s immense accomplishment. We are all so proud to be a part of it, a part of the future. I shall like to make the journey coast-to-coast someday on it, to me that would be such a wondrous thing! 

I was wondering, would you tell me what Manhattan is like? I do admit I’ve only ever thought of it as bleak and loud and harsh, but surely folk as amiable as yourself and your father cannot come from such harshness. So please, tell me an anecdote of your days since you’ve returned. I’d love to hear of anything joyful. It would provide a balm to the monotony of country life. 

Thinking of you always,

Christina Reyes

Dearest Christina,

Thank you for saying such kind things. I’ve always felt as if I were on the periphery of life. I’ve skated through it mostly by way of parties and luncheons with people who have little to talk about other than themselves. I’m just now getting to a point in my life where I do want to make a mark on the world. I know I can do that partially when I inherit my father’s legacy, and I intend to do it the utmost justice. But I find myself adrift in that I do have family and friends who love me, however…I do not have a love that speaks my heart’s language. A love that is built of trust and companionship and intimacy. 

Please do not chide me for saying such things, we are friends and I feel I can talk about these delicate subjects with dignity. I thank you for your discretion. 

But yes, as it stands, I have made no such mark on the world, have no such intimacy with which to grow old. I feel that the things we do in life do have a way of defining us, but they are far overshadowed by the people we choose to love. 

In the past, I have chosen poorly, through no one’s fault but my own. I hope one day I can remedy that. But right now I feel, as I said, adrift. There is no one to hold me fast to the world, no one strive to do well for, after my father is gone. And I fear I may never have, as I have ceased looking. I cannot bear it at this moment. 

Forgive me, my dearest friend, I have ignored your other request until now. Manhattan is much as it always is, loud and harsh, as you said. But most days it is a good distraction to hear the hustle and bustle outside my window. I do miss the Park and the promenade, but  lately I haven’t felt well enough to venture out. I keep to my father’s study in our townhouse in Midtown while he visits the office near Gramercy and keeps me informed. 

As I haven’t got a joyful anecdote from the days since our return, I will relate to you one from the past that is near and dear to my heart. When I was a young boy of about ten, my mother—God rest her soul—took me to the waterfront one day when my father was stolen from us with work. We gazed out over the Hudson, and even in my young age I tried to imagine that, just across the water, began the vastness of the North American continent. I used to try and picture what the land was like, what exotic treasures it held. I had never been anywhere, though my father had been to Chicago and Philadelphia numerous times. 

I used to picture rolling hills, vast grasslands, and roaming livestock. I had been told most of the rest of the States consisted of farmland. I had never actually seen a bovine in person, but I had seen drawings. I childishly thought of it as one big zoo where all the animals roamed free, and the air always smelled crisp and clean. I imagined it was beautiful.

Funny thing is, I know now that that little boy of ten was at least partially right, at least about one particular place among that vastness. 

I hope I have made you joyous,

TK Strand

My dear friend,

Your letter has made me joyous, in some ways. I wish you could have seen our home with childlike eyes, but alas I think it was better suited to you as you are now, and I’m glad you have experienced it and that it was to your liking. It truly means the world that you think of it as beautiful.

However, I have cause for concern where you have mentioned you have not been out, that you are unwell. Pray, please let me know how you get on, we all worry over you so. I happened to mention that excerpt of your letter at dinner, and I fear I may have incited a frenzy. I am humbly asked by my siblings to enquire after your health. Please tell us what ails you, so we can worry properly, and send up our prayers. I know we cannot do a thing for you, as far apart as we are now, but you are always in our hearts. 

Mamà tells us that our business with your father is nearly finalized. I look forward to a ride on the line, hopefully with you as my guide. I must make the journey near winter, for I long to see snow. I’ve hitherto only read about it in books, a delicate powder that falls from the sky and blankets the world in white. How marvelous a sight must it be! 

Be well,

Christina Reyes

Dear Christina,

As for your family, please tell them I am alright. I did not wish to frighten them or you, and I’m sorry for that. Please trust that our cook keeps me well with sandwiches and fruits when I am able to eat them. Everything is well when father is around to take up my time with business discussion, and as I said I am well distracted most days by the cacophony of the city outside. 

I will venture out soon, I think, as my friends and acquaintances grow weary of my absence and I have left them all to their own devices for quite long enough, I suspect. I presume to know what they will want to discuss—an incident that took place just before our trip to Texas—it will be a drain on me to talk about it regardless. But I cannot put them off forever, I love them too much to deny them my company when they wish for it. Perhaps I’ll take a walk with one of them tomorrow, even if the air of the city is not nearly so keen and invigorating as the air of the country I have run from.

Please give my best to your family, I hope I have not caused anyone undue grief. I will only talk of happy things from here on out, when I eventually find them. 

With affection,

TK Strand

P.S. I believe you know deep down what truly ails me, so I’ll not speak of it further lest I lose all dignity. 

*

Mr. Michaels, the butler, stopped TK on his way to the dining room, handing him a card on a tray. He read it and smiled. “Miss Marwani called on you earlier, I told her you hadn’t yet come down. She left her card.”

“Thank you, Michaels. Will you send her a message that I’ll be free after luncheon today? I know it’s been so very long since I’ve made time to see her.”

“Yes, my lord. I dare say all your friends and acquaintances have been calling on us nonstop since your return home. But I trust it’ll take you a moment to get back into the swing of things after…your trip.” 

TK smiled sadly. He knew what the butler was going to say before amending it. He’d been an absolute wreck after finding Alexander and the footman and had left for Texas only two days later. The entirety of the household and all of his friends must think he’s still in a melancholy state because of the slight. 

If only they knew the truth. He might tell some of them, but only a select few he could trust. Michaels was a good man, and hadn’t overstepped. He’d practically raised TK since his father was so busy with the rail when he was younger. He knew the man was only looking out for his happiness. 

“Michaels?” he said before turning to go on to the dining room for breakfast.

“Yes, my lord?”

“If you were faced with a time limit on a decision that governed your whole life, would you wait until you’d found the right solution? Or would you take the first viable solution to come along?”

TK knew that Michaels knew exactly what he was talking about, but was too polite to call attention to that fact. “I think if it were me, I’d examine every detail of each choice before deciding on the one most beneficial to my life in the long run. After all, some decisions are for a lifetime.” With this, he gave a small reproachful smile to his once young charge.

“Yes, well. What would you do if you’d found the right solution, but it turned out to be impossible?” TK’s eyes looked up in earnest at the butler, whose expression had turned kind and commiserating.

“I do hope you don’t think you’d found the right solution to this problem just before your departure?” It was obvious Michaels thought Alexander was far below TK even before the scandalous tryst was revealed. 

“No, no. Nothing like that,” TK reassured. He was pensive for a moment, caught in his thoughts of rolling pasture and wildflowers, their scent dancing across his senses even from miles away. “I thought I had found the right avenue during my time away. It seemed a nice thing, a wonderful thing actually. I daresay my hopes were quite built up for a time. But in the end it proved, as I said, impossible.”

Michaels gazed at his young master for a moment, unmistakable pity in his eyes, but TK didn’t comment on it. He was too miserable. 

“I hold the utmost confidence that the right choice is out there for you. But, my lord, you will never find it unless you leave this house eventually. I am glad you’ve decided to start breakfasting in the dining room again, and I know that if you do go out later today your color might begin to return. I worry for you, my lord. I hope I am not impertinent to say so.”

“No, no Michaels. You’re not impertinent. I know I’ve been ghastly to be around these last few weeks, and I do hope to remedy that. To begin…moving toward the future, no matter how much I wish I knew its contents.” TK gave the butler a sad smile before turning away again, the weight of all he wished for still on his shoulders and bright, luminous brown eyes on his mind, no matter how much he wished they’d fade.

*

“I know you’re still mourning Alexander and his licentious ways, but I promise you, you can do much better. His family isn’t even that well connected! He’ll be a faint stain on your past and nothing more.”

TK looked over at his friend, the navy ribbon on her silk evening bonnet getting caught by the light breeze weaving through the Park. Her dark eyes held an intense shine as they often did when she went on a tirade. He let himself smile at her ability to be both vicious and diplomatic.

“Marjan,” he chided gently, “his family owns three quarters of the orange trees in the country! I wouldn’t say he’s not well connected. Half of Florida bears his family name in some capacity.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” she spit delicately. TK was also impressed by her proficiency in cursing with a velvet tongue. “Then he should be sent off to oversee them. Rid this city of his stupidity. Even further! Florida is too close, send him to the West Coast! Let him disappear. Society will be all the better for it, mark my words."

TK was brought up short by the mere mention of the opposite coast, since thoughts of that region gave in to thoughts of a certain eligible bachelor which gave in to thoughts of his intended that TK desperately wished was his own intended and—

It must have shown on his face.

“TK, my friend, trust me. He is nothing of consequence.” Her voice had turned gentle again, not the outrage on his behalf she’d been spouting for the past few minutes. TK could not help connecting her statement with his thoughts, even if she was off the mark at the moment. 

“I know that. It’s not him that unsettles me; he is firmly in my past and I shall not revisit my temporary lapse of judgement in giving him even a small parcel of my affection.” He patted her hand that rested in the crook of his arm as they walked leisurely around a small fountain, the sound of bubbling water serving to soothe his psyche for the time being.

She was silent for a moment before she tugged them to a pause on a semi-crowded knoll. “Then, pray tell, what has you so blue? Ever since you returned from the South you’ve been distant. I thought at first it was just lethargy left over from the long journey, but it has been over two months! I fear I shall never see you smile again as before. Please tell me what troubles you? Is it your father?”

Marjan was a close friend, and as such, she was privy to some news about his father’s health. The man wasn’t in immediate danger, but TK had confided in Marjan that his father had taken to being more…forceful in his demands that TK take a more active role in the business. He had a persistent cough but no fever as of yet. The doctors did what they could to alleviate the annoying ailment—as his father called it—but they all knew Owen Strand was beginning the downslope of his life. At nearly fifty years of age, he was nearing the last stretch of life expectancy and sometimes TK could see it plain on his father’s face. It made him apprehensive for the future, not to mention the fact that still stood: he had to marry before he could take over the business. 

And that thought brought him back around to his other melancholy. For if the desired recipient of his affection would return said affection, he’d be happily married yesterday. But alas, it was not to be. 

He dreaded a letter from Christina detailing an engagement. He knew it was coming soon, and he’d tried to resign himself to it. Perhaps she wouldn’t even tell him. After all, he’d asked as much of her. Nothing of Carlos, none at all; that had been his request. 

“It is, partially, my father’s health that concerns me,” he said as he came out of his thoughts and back into the conversation at hand. “However I…”

“What is it?” Marjan asked when he refused to speak further after trailing off into silence. “What makes your heart ache so? I can see it in your eyes that it is your heart that is broken. If it was not Alexander, then who?”

Trust Marjan to read him like a book. 

“I met someone. In Texas. Oh, Marjan—“ he paused a moment and could not help a smile crawling across his features at the thought of his week spent in bliss, before it all came crumbling down. “He is the most wonderful, kind, and beautiful creature I have ever met. At first I thought him a cad, as our first meeting was less than cordial. But upon learning why he felt as he did, I was persuaded to understand and to admire his candor. He spoke of his home with love and deference, and it was such a treasure to be shown the land with such a companion.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the apple orchard. Marjan caught his flush and smiled.

“And so? When shall we expect an announcement?”

TK’s smile quickly dimmed to a grimace, now tasked with completing the story.

“An announcement will not come, I’m afraid. He is betrothed to another. I found out on our second to last night in Austin, and I must confess I did not handle it well. I made a complete fool of myself and I’d like to never repeat it by seeing him again.”

“Wait, he did not tell you he was spoken for? And he courted you just the same and let you think you had a chance?” Her voice was angry and TK sought to soothe it with the truth.

“Truthfully, he never actually courted me. We were thrust together by circumstance, and he was a perfect gentleman throughout. It was I who read too much into each interaction, each conversation, each dance held in his arms. It was I who was a complete fool to let my feelings show on my face to all his family when they all knew nothing would ever come of it. I feel so stupid, Marjan. I practically begged father to cut the trip short. But…” he paused again, thinking of the dust kicking up behind Jimena’s hooves as Carlos rode out to meet their carriage after they’d already set off. The small bud of Indian Paintbrush was still blooming in a jar of water next to his bed. 

“But?” She prompted. 

“There were some moments where…where I could swear that he…but it was obviously a trick of my imagination. His betrothed is a marvelous gentleman, beloved by all, and he would be a fool not to accept an eventual proposal. As I said, it is well and truly over and out of the question that my pursuit would yield any happiness.” 

Marjan was silent while they resumed their walk, her hand steady in the crook of his arm. Eventually, she spoke softly. “Well, I must admit I am glad this melancholy is not on Alexander’s account, but I also must admit I am saddened by this turn of events. I know you to be a perfect gentleman, and I have always wished you could find someone as wonderful as you to share your life with. I know you’ll do great things and I know you want someone to share those triumphs with. If this man is who you feel is perfect for you, why not fight for him? It is not in your nature to give up so easily.”

“That’s just it, Marjan. He is perfect, and honorable. Which is why I could not jeopardize his honor by asking him to abandon a promise he made before he met me. I would never forgive myself if his good name was tarnished.”

They walked in silence until the end of the lane, where they turned to leave the Park and hail a carriage back to Marjan’s home up the avenue. 

*

When TK returned home later in the evening, Michaels stopped him in the entryway and held out a tray. “This came for you while you were out, my lord.”

TK took the proffered package and stared at it in confusion. The return address from from Christina, but usually all she sent were letters. This parcel was still small, the shape of a single letter, but thicker. It weighed little, giving no clue as to its contents.

“Thank you, Michaels. Is dinner set already? Do I have time to change?”

“You should, my lord. I shall call for you in about half an hour. Your father is in the parlor already, if you wish to check in with him, now you’re home.”

“Was he missing me? Did he need something?” TK wondered, a little worried. 

Michaels smiled. “No, my lord. He was actually quite content all day, and was happy that you’d gone to call on Miss Marwani. I only say to check in because he probably hopes to hear how happy a time you had.”

TK smiled sadly. He knew he was worrying his father with his refusal to leave his own rooms for the past weeks. It saddened him further that he could have possibly made his father’s condition worse by stressing him. He vowed to himself to make a better effort to get back into real life sooner rather than later. After all, as he’d told Marjan earlier, there was nothing to be done about…Mr. Reyes. That was well and truly over, in fact it had never begun. There was no reason to pine after a man who did not do the same for him. TK was worth more than that.

Yes, he must convince himself of that, and quickly. 

“Alright, Michaels. I’ll change quickly and meet him. Thank you,” he said with a small nod. Turning to ascend the stairs, he started to unwrap the small, delicate parcel Christina had sent. As he entered his rooms, his efforts revealed that there was, in fact, a letter inside. However it was nestled atop a small folded square of cloth, delicate and airy and fine. 

Setting the letter aside for the moment, he unfolded the fabric to reveal that it was a handkerchief, finely made and embroidered in bright colored thread. The edges were a gleaming yellow, reminding him of sunlight. On one corner, no bigger than his thumb, was the most intricate rendition of a yellow wildflower—he recognized it almost instantly. 

He moved to sit on the nearest surface, which happened to be the edge of his bed. The pads of his fingers caressed the tiny design reverently, as if touching it would somehow unravel all the thread that comprised it. As if by acknowledging that it was there, it was already in danger of disappearing. There was no doubt of the reference used—he had seen so many of those little yellow blossoms on his journey around the Reyes ranch. The breath left his body as his mind’s eye conjured a bright smile and the smell of clean sweetness on the air. 

After he’d regained some of his composure, he picked up the letter. It was shorter than most of her other letters, which stood to reason as he’d just received her last one a few days ago and he’d yet to answer it. She must have sent this just behind her previous one. 

Beloved TK,

I hope you are well. I know I have just posted a letter to you two days ago, but I saw this in a shop window and immediately thought of you. I know how you enjoyed the wildflowers around our home, and I wished for you to have a reminder of them—especially one less prone to wilting than the genuine article. 

You are always in my our thoughts, and I wished to keep us in yours. Please, think of Austin when you hold this token, and know that you are so dearly missed. 

Yours in heart,

Christina Reyes

TK stared. It seemed as though the letter had been written in some sort of haste, as it was unusual for Christina’s hand. The letters were slightly more slanted, and the spaces between paragraphs larger than her delicate way. Even her signature was off, as if it had been written by a proxy. And the contents…she’d never called him a beloved friend before. Well, no, it wasn’t even friend. It was just “beloved”. 

He wondered if she was growing melancholy herself for some unknown reason. The letter seemed sincere, but heavier than her usual correspondence, as if she was feeling his absence more acutely in this instance. 

Furthermore, he wasn’t sure he’d told her about what the wildflowers meant to him. He’d thought that was something he and Mr. Reyes had shared between themselves for the short time they’d been acquainted. But perhaps her brother had recited a few of their outings to her, and remarked on TK’s fascination with the surrounding flora of the country. 

Perhaps. 

He concluded that the whole parcel was a product of a hastily made decision when she’d seen the handkerchief in the window, and the oddities contained within the letter were the result of her haste to get it posted while she was still in town that same day. 

He gently tucked the gift into a box next to his bed, giving it one last longing stare before closing the lid and beginning to dress for dinner. 

*

“We’ve had a letter from the Doña,” his father said over luncheon a few days later as he perused said letter which Michaels had handed to him upon their arrival in the dining room. “It seems her agent agrees to our terms, and they are sending a liaison with the documents to finalize.” He set the page down on the table and picked up his glass of port. “I do believe we are almost settled with the entirety of the preparations, and we can begin construction early next year!”

“That’s wonderful news, father,” TK said quietly, his tone not matching his words. He was looking down at his plate with no intention of picking up his fork, so he missed his father’s knowing and saddened expression. 

“It is. Another piece of news that I’ve gathered from earlier today, is that the Vanderbilts are throwing a ball tomorrow night. Well, I suppose Mrs. Vanderbilt is, at any rate, and Mr. Strickland asks if you can accompany him.”

“I don’t know, father. I’m not sure I’m feeling well enough to socialize on such a scale. I’ll be a bore to everyone there and then you will have to answer for my behavior.” 

“I don’t think you’d be a bore to Mr. Strickland, surely. He’s been asking after you these last few weeks. I daresay he plans to eventually kidnap you from your rooms if you do not answer his calls. Surely he’ll want to hear how you’re getting on?” His father’s transparency was apparent, but TK did not call him out on it. 

“I don’t know, father. I’m not quite well at the moment so I probably shouldn’t be gallivanting about at parties.”

“You are unwell because you refuse to eat or see sunlight,” Owen said, not unkindly. His next words were suffused with affection and it only made TK’s heart ache more. “My son, I worry for you. The whole household does. Mrs. Talbot says you only ate half the small sandwich she brought you last night. And you haven’t touched your soup yet since we’ve sat down. I worry you’ll be skin and bones before long.” His words weren’t scolding, only concerned.

“I’m sorry to worry you, father, and the servants. I just find it…difficult to keep anything down. It all tastes like ash, and I know that description would never do Mrs. Talbot’s cooking justice.” At this, he made a gamely attempt to sip a spoonful of soup, and found his assessments confirmed. He swallowed anyway, and kept the grimace off his face with great effort. 

“Tyler,” his father said in that affectionate tone once more, “You must try to move past your heartbreak. I know that’s what it is,” he said as TK made to interrupt him, “I know it when I look at your face and see only sadness. I know it when I hear from Michaels that you have not descended the stairs all day while I’ve been at the office. I know it because that single flower is still thriving at your bedside.” At this, he had the decency to look only slightly chagrined. TK said nothing.

“I looked in on you a few nights ago. You didn’t come down to dinner and I was worried you’d gone hungry again. Your sleep looked restless. I also noticed a letter from Miss Christina.”

“You went through my things?” TK said without any real malice. He knew his father meant well but he had put a lot of private thoughts into those letters and Christina had answered them in kind. 

“I only ascertained that she wishes to see snow. You should take her up on her request to ride the line once it is finished. I know she would love to see you again. And maybe by then, it will be less painful for you.” Owen’s face was drawn. 

“Maybe, in a year or two. For now I am content with her letters.”

“What does she write of her brother?” his father asked.

“Nothing, because I asked her not to,” TK replied. He again missed his father’s pained expression of concern as he took another forced sip of his soup from his spoon. His hand trembled slightly at the most direct mention of Carlos since his talk with Marjan earlier in the week. 

Owen seemed to take this answer as a plea to end the subject of conversation. He simply watched his son silently, wishing he could help ease his pain and knowing he was unable.

*

“Mr. Cartwright has not stopped staring in this direction since we sat down,” Paul remarked over the swell of the music, another quadrille beginning causing cheers and the shuffle of feet to the dance floor. 

“Perhaps he’s trying to figure out a way to ask you to dance,” TK answered as he sipped his brandy. Paul was a dear friend, and he was happy to be in his company, he just wished it didn’t have to be surrounded by laughing couples and a revelry he felt entirely apart from. 

His friend gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? He’s been shamelessly staring at you,” Paul countered. “He’s practically mapped out every thread in your coat, the cad.” 

“I doubt that. No amiable gentleman would give me a second glance as I look now. Maybe a few months ago, but not now. I’m well aware the color in my cheeks and the bulk of my frame have left me. The servants, my father, you, and Marjan remind me every day of that. How could I be any object of desire?”

It had been a full week since his first venture out of the house with Marjan—and nearly three months since his return from Texas—and TK was trying for his friends’ sake to get back out into the world. Hence accepting the invitation to a ball at the home of some debutante or another of their set, with Paul as his moral support should he feel the need to flee the social setting at his earliest convenience. TK was still trying to get used to other people around him being so happy and carefree when he himself wished to crawl into his bed and remain there until the second coming. 

He knew full well that his behavior wasn’t healthy. He’d made the decision himself to try and get past his heartbreak, lest it cripple him forever which definitely could not happen if he wanted to give his father any peace of mind. 

“My friend,” Paul chided kindly, “you’ve always been a vision, sought after by many a connected suitor. You haven’t lost your appeal I can promise you. We harp on your well-being because we care about how you’re feeling on the inside, and the outside is a good testament to that. I dare say it’s made you more desirable, at least to those who’ve mourned your absence since your trip, that you’ve stayed away. It inflates the intrigue.” He gave a small chuckle that TK tried to match. 

“Well I’m afraid Mr. Cartwright will have to find another object of desire. I do not believe I could content anyone as a courting partner as of now. I need a bit more time to settle back in, I think.” That was as diplomatic as TK could be about it. The reality was that he’d still been unable to remove thoughts of Mr. Reyes from his mind, and it grew more difficult every day. He absentmindedly reached into his jacket pocket and rubbed the delicate fabric of the handkerchief between his fingers, feeling the bumps and valleys of the embroidery, and almost smelling the sweet scent of the country in the air. 

He hadn’t noticed he’d closed his eyes until he felt a brush of air next to his face as a reveler approached their table. 

“Hello, Mr. Strand,” Mr. Cartwright beamed. It seemed he’d worked up the courage to approach after all. 

“Good evening. Are you enjoying the festivities?” He answered, attempting cordiality. 

“Of course. And yourself, Mr. Strand? Wouldn’t you better enjoy things in their midst than here on the periphery? Fancy a dance on the next waltz?” The man sounded so eager that TK almost obliged. But his honor would not let him lead the man on. 

“I’m afraid I’ve quite exhausted myself already,” he said, even though all he’d done was make one round and plop himself into his current seat since arriving. “I do apologize for being unavailable, but I’m sure there is someone else dying to catch your hand for a waltz. Please let me do them the favor of leaving you available.” 

It was almost comical the way the man’s face fell, but TK was not in danger of showing any glee at it on his face. He understood far to well the melancholy of unrequited affection. But alas, he could not feign interest at the moment, so he let the man trudge away with only a bit of guilt. 

“He’ll get over it,” he said when he caught Paul’s glance. 

“But will you?” It was clear he wasn’t talking about Mr. Cartwright.

TK didn’t answer. He could not. 

*

The day of the arrival of the Doña’s liaison dawned and once again TK could barely face the sunlight. He wished with all his heart that he could place the blame on too much of the good-natured debauchery that plagued his set when they got into their drinks, but he knew he could not. He’d barely partaken in a full glass of brandy with his father after dinner the night before. 

He felt some guilt at not hurrying down to meet the man at his father’s side, as would be expected of an only son in position to run his father’s business someday, but could barely bring himself to nibble at the scones Mrs. Talbot had sent up the night before.

Sooner or later, however, he knew he must face the day. He finally got himself dressed near luncheon time, deeming his appearance presentable enough for a middle manager he’d never meet again. 

He straightened his collar and pulled his lapels taut just before Michaels announced him upon entering the parlor. As he surveyed the scene before him, his stride halted, all breath left his lungs, and the color drained from his face. 

Seated on the settee across from his father and wearing the most disarmingly beautiful smile, eyes dancing in the sunlight filtering in through the damask curtains, was Carlos Reyes. 

The man had clearly just been given some wonderful news, though TK couldn’t imagine what his own father could have told him to elicit such a response, but it was plain on his face that he’d just been told something truly delightful. However, when his eyes strayed to the entrance to the room upon Michaels announcing TK’s presence, the smile on his face faded slowly to a deep concern. TK didn’t miss the subtle perusal of his person, Carlos looking over his face with a slight furrow of his brow that grew deeper the longer TK stood there dumbfounded. 

Mr. Reyes, of course, was the first to remember his manners, though his employment of them seemed over the top to TK. He’d jumped up and nearly ran over to TK, taking his elbow in hand ever so gently as if the touch was nothing. As if it didn’t send TK’s whole world tilting. 

“Mr. Strand! I…please, sit. Should I fetch some water? You look like you’ll be ill any moment…” He sounded almost…afraid. Not disgusted and annoyed as TK thought he might have been upon their next meeting. After all, TK was the one who’d made a fool of himself by pining like an imbecile in front of the Reyes’ family and friends. He could only imagine how much Mr. Reyes regretted their time together, now that he’d had a few months to ponder it. 

“I’m alright, Mr. Reyes, thank you,” TK managed to croak out as the man ushered him to a chair across the room, seemingly careful as not to touch him. 

He must be master of himself! This was almost more embarrassing than what had initially transpired between them in Texas. “I…hadn’t known that you’d be coming as your mother’s agent. I was only…surprised to see you. Here.” He forced his lips to stop moving.

Mr. Reyes’ face had yet to lose it’s pinched brow and shining eyes. What TK had initially catalogued as fear now looked like…concern. But that was impossible. Only, maybe not, since Mr. Reyes was a quite honorable and sensible man, and TK knew he looked gaunt and lifeless on his best days lately.

Turning to look at his father, TK only noticed that he too was focused on Mr. Reyes, and TK couldn’t quite place his expression. He’d been smiling as well when TK entered, and now he seemed a bit subdued but no less mirthful. It was an odd juxtaposition. Just then, he turned to his son and gave him a gentle smile.

“Well, I must be off. Quite a bit to get finalized with the documents you’ve brought me.” He stood and offered a hand to Mr. Reyes. “How long did you say you’d be in the city?”

“A few days, sir. I had hoped…well, my mother wishes me to return with everything in order,” he answered cryptically as they shook. His face was hopeful though TK couldn’t think why. They had pretty well come to a mutually beneficial agreement through correspondence. The rest was simply formality at this point. He couldn’t think what else would need to be settled. 

“I’m sure she does,” Owen said with a smile and another odd look at TK. He could not figure what to make of the exchange, but truth be told he was still reeling from Carlos—Mr. Reyes, he reminded himself—being in his home so unexpectedly. 

His father was turning to him next. “Tyler, would you be a gentleman and show Mr. Reyes about for a bit? I’m sure he’d like to stretch his legs after his long journey. You could take a taxi to the Park?”

TK fought the urge to gape at his father. He expected them to be…alone? What would they even discuss? TK wished the Turkish rug’s threads would open up and sew him into the floor. 

He was however, as his father said, a gentleman, and he could not let his manners slip no matter how much he wished to be anywhere but alone in the confines of a taxi and then in the beautiful intimacy of the Park at dusk with Carlos Reyes. 

“Of course, father. It would be my pleasure.” Somehow the words left his lips without a tremble. Or so he hoped. He did not think his father could be so cruel, knowing TK’s heart. 

Mr. Reyes looked half ecstatic and half terrified. TK could relate whole-heartedly. 

As Owen bid them good night and made to ascend the stairs to his study, TK slowly turned to look at his circumstantial companion. Here they were once again, thrust into each other. TK thought back to that first morning they’d toured the ranch together; Mr. Reyes had been cordial, despite their initial meeting and his own hesitation about the Strand’s business with his family. He’d been courteous and knowledgable about the land, wishing to give TK a good impression which TK in turn appreciated. 

He vowed to himself he would attempt to do the same when showing Mr. Reyes his own home. 

With somewhat renewed countenance, TK took a breath. “Well, shall we, Mr. Reyes?” His voice barely shook. The man in question gave him a fond smile that melted TK’s very soul.

“Lead the way, Mr. Strand.”

*

The taxi ride proved to undo all of TK’s borrowed confidence. Sitting so close their knees brushed reminded him of riding through the apple orchard, which in turn reminded him of Carlos’ hand in his, which set his heart fluttering and mind whirling, which led to an awkward silence the likes of which TK never wanted to experience again. Mr. Reyes was waiting for him to speak, it seemed—as TK was ostensibly his guide in this place unfamiliar to him—and he was thoroughly incapable. All that accompanied them was the clap of the horses’ hooves on the stones and both their nervous breathing. 

When they arrived at the southwest corner of the Central Park, TK paid the driver and slipped out before Mr. Reyes could offer him a hand. He knew not what he would do if he felt that warmth upon his skin again in his current state. The other man looked a bit let down, but TK dismissed it as a trick of his longing imagination. 

They entered and set about the promenade which, even at this time of the evening, was still thronged with late perusers. As they walked among the fresh grass and beautiful tree lined paths, TK did his best to drum up the wherewithal to speak, to offer some manner of conversation lest he seem rude in his silence.

“I suppose it looks rather…artificial to you,” he said quietly. 

Mr. Reyes startled a bit, apparently accustomed to TK’s lack of voice thus far, but he recovered quickly with an eager smile turned to his companion. 

“Not at all! It’s all very…whimsical I think. This beautiful bounty of nature preserved in the middle of all that stone and brick. It’s…peaceful.”

“Yes,” TK thought aloud. “It’s quite serene. The further in you go, the less the city outside of it seems real. The sounds and smog melt away and you just feel…” he trailed off, words failing.

“Like we’re in our own little Eden.” Carlos’ eyes were like pools of shining dark chocolate in the gaslamp light. Sweet and alluring. 

TK could only nod dumbly, and try to look away. He accomplished it with much difficulty. 

They walked in a much softer silence for a time, passing a couple of people TK recognized from parties and balls around the city, but they never stopped to converse with anyone. Mr. Reyes seemed to want to keep his company for himself, which TK could not think what to do about, so he remained passively quiet. 

About half an hour into their journey, his companion spoke. 

“I’ve actually got something I’d like to…well, first there’s something I…I need to tell you.” Carlos’ face was unreadable, but his tone was quiet and reserved. TK’s heart clenched painfully. Carlos had been in an odd countenance since his arrival, and TK could only attribute it to the awkwardness surrounding his ridiculous assumptions about Carlos’ feelings and the utter embarrassment of his departure from Texas. 

“Oh?” was all he said, suddenly breathless with an ache he could barely stand. 

“I’m not sure if you were informed when you last visited, but—” he paused for so long, TK turned to look at him at his side, wondering what halted his speech. His face was still unreadable, but his voice now had a very slight tremble to it. TK tried to keep his own face open, so that Mr. Reyes felt safe to continue. 

“For several years now I have had an...understanding. With a gentleman from California, with whom my family is quite acquainted.”

The vice around TK’s heart clenched cruelly at the reminder. “Yes, Mr. de Castillo. Your mother and sisters—and some of those from the county—told me about him. Quite admired, he is, by all.”

“Yes…” His voice trailed off into silence again, and this time when TK sneaked a look he seemed troubled. TK wished he could put the man’s fears at ease, that if he feared a faux pas in tearing down TK’s feelings that he needn’t worry about it.

But that would have been a lie.

“Yes,” he said again, going on. “We’ve actually been courting these last months, not long after yours and your father’s departure.”

TK took the blow as best he could, with a calm countenance, when really he wished this torturous conversation would end so that he could limp back to his bed and curl up in misery until the second coming. Why on earth did Carlos feel the need to do this? Weren’t they settled in being apart from each other? No more than business acquaintances? 

The thought alone dealt his heart another painful blow. 

“About a month ago he—he called on me to...state his intentions.” His voice sounded flatter than TK would assume from a happily engaged man. Still, he tried to inject some light into his own tone when he answered.

“I am so happy for you, Car—Mr. Reyes,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster which, admittedly, was not very much at all.

However, his tone must have belied his utter devastation because Mr. Reyes abruptly stopped and gently tugged him to the side of the path, so that they would not impede other couples on the promenade. TK almost swooned at the touch.

“I’m sorry?” the other man said, a look of confusion and slight hurt across his beautiful eyes. TK was now confused as well.

“I...I only wish to convey my happiness on your engagement. You must be thrilled to have your future finally settled. Not only must it be a relief, but with such a fine gentleman as I have heard.” Carlos’ hand was still lightly holding onto his upper arm, and though it pained TK in the worst way to do it, he ever so deftly maneuvered his body so that the contact was dropped. 

“I think that...well I...that is…” Carlos was staring at him, that hurt look growing in his brown eyes and TK wanted nothing more than to take it away but he didn’t know how.

“Mr. Strand—TK,” he said so softly that TK could hear his own heart beat in the silence. “I think that you have...misunderstood me.” TK had been staring at a spot over Carlos’ shoulder until then, unable to meet his eyes any longer for fear he’d burst into tears in the middle of Central Park, but at the plea he shifted his watery gaze back to sink into the pools of liquid chocolate in front of him. 

“Mr. de Castillo—Fernando, that is—has proposed marriage to me, it’s true—” In the minuscule pause between these words and the next set, TK felt his heart slow to a stop with the inexorable weight set upon it by this conversation, “—but I have turned him down.”

And at this, that traitorous heart gave one slow, painful beat of hope that TK was powerless to tamp down. 

When he could find his voice, it was to incredulously say, “Whatever for?” 

Carlos reached down to take TK’s hand in his, and TK was sure he was trembling like a sheaf of paper caught in the wind. He brought it between both his hands, brushing the knuckles ever so lightly—so much so that TK was sure he’d imagined it. 

“Because I could not marry a man that I do not love, and I do not love Fernando. No matter how much of a wonderful and kind gentleman he is, and no matter how ashamed and saddened it made me to tell him so. But I cannot betray my own heart.”

TK’s legs were going to give out any moment. He had no other thought in his head but staying upright, using that tentative hold on his hand, still gentle as ever, as his anchor. He dare not let his thoughts follow themselves to any conclusions. 

“The truth is, TK, my heart belongs to another. It has for some time, and I was too stubborn with misplaced loyalty to give it a say. That is, until now. Which is why I imparted the information to you.”

TK kept staring into the man’s eyes, wondering if this was all some dream he’d tumbled into in slumber. He was sure this must be his own mind conjuring the conversation, guilty as it was of yearning for it. 

“I wish to apologize for taking so very long to come to my senses. I always strive to be honorable, and for a time I thought that meant that I must remain true to Fernando. But I’ve been made to realize that my thinking was wrong.” TK could only take the words in stride, adrift as he was on the roaring sea of his emotions. 

The man continued, while TK himself was made to listen to the most illogical combination of words his brain could have come up with in his current state. He was still convinced he was dreaming. Carlos reaching down and taking both his hands did nothing to bring him out of said state. Furthermore, it made him feel as if he was about to float away into the stars, unmoored as he was except for those twin points of contact. 

“You are the most optimistic, brilliant, engaging creature I have ever known. Your smile could light up a room if every candle failed. I find myself riveted any time you’ve got an anecdote to tell, and in these months of not hearing your voice I have conjured it in my dreams more times than I care to admit.

“I wish to spend the rest of my days making you smile and laugh, waking with the morning sunshine just to see how it dapples your face, and admiring you from across the dinner table every single evening for the rest of my life. TK, if I have been mistaken, and you do not return my affections, please stop me from making a further fool of myself.” This he said with a little nervous chuckle that cut straight through TK’s very soul. He looked up through his lashes at TK, nervous. 

TK, in turn, was struck dumb by the confession. Carlos apparently took this as a queue to continue to the most preposterously happy thing that had yet to be uttered in this very winding conversation that had had TK’s heart in knots since it began. 

“Mr. Strand. If I have not been remiss in my assumptions of your affection, I urge you, no I beg you to consider my humble plea. Would you consent to be my husband? It would make me the happiest man in the entire world.”

TK felt himself take in a slow, careful breath. It took several moments for him to find his voice, and then it was only to utter on a half-expelled gasp, “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” was the nearly equally breathless answer.

Again, it was a struggle to find volume behind the utter euphoria that had overtaken him, but soon enough, he pushed the words out in a little more than a whisper, lest he accidentally shout and call undue attention. “Then, yes. Yes!” Tears were already warming his cheeks and chin, but TK didn’t care a wit. He went easily as Carlos embraced him tightly, feeling warmth suffusing his entire body at every place they touched. 

Before long, they had to part, lest they invite accusations of impropriety.

“I…I had thought…well it doesn’t matter now I suppose,” he stammered, thoughts swirling with emotion and unable to tamp them down. Not wanting to. 

“I apologize again for taking so long. Your smile, your face is all I’ve thought about for months. The moment you were gone my heart sank to the deepest depths.”

“Mine as well,” TK admitted. “I have…neglected myself these last few months, I’m afraid. I thought I could learn to forget you in time, but alas…”

“When you entered the parlor, I was distraught to see you looking unwell. Please, I beg of you, please take care of yourself. I don’t know what I would do if…”

“I know. I apologize for my appearance. I did not mean to give you cause for concern.”

Carlos briefly reached up to touch TK’s slightly sunken cheek. “I hope you can forgive me, for it is my silence that has caused you such distress, but I also find myself elated that you feel the same as I do. I can still scarcely believe it.” His voice was rising with happiness, and TK felt drunk on it like the sweetest wine. “I must admit, though, I cannot claim full responsibility for coming to my senses. Christina was quite adamant that I was being an imbecile.”

TK looked down at the ground for a moment. “I…asked her—no, begged her really—not to speak of you in our correspondence.”

“She told me. It’s why I—“ Carlos stopped abruptly, looking chagrined. 

“What is it?” TK asked.

“Well I…I knew you did not want to speak to me, but I just had to…that is I…I sent you…something. I wrote a letter and signed her name to it. She laughed about it later, but she called me an utter fool for not being more courageous about it.

TK halted in the middle of the path. Immediately, he knew. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a delicate fold of linen edged in bright yellow. He held it gently in his fingers, caressing the soft folds that had cemented themselves after so long kept in his pocket. 

Even in the lamplight, he could see Carlos’ face flush slightly. 

“I wanted to court you properly, but circumstances were…well. In the end I was cowardly about it I suppose.” He ducked his head bashfully. 

“I think, deep down, I knew. I didn’t want to let myself believe, but…I’d never spoken to Christina about the wildflowers.” TK’s own voice was reverent. 

“She told me that. When I told her what I’d done, she told me you would see right through it.”

“You called me beloved…”

Carlos looked deep into his eyes. “Yes.”

TK nearly swooned again, new tears dripping down his cheeks which were positively sore with how much he was smiling. He tucked the treasure back into his jacket.

“We’ll have to tell my father, I suppose,” he said after a time, absolutely giddy as they began to walk along the path again, back to the streets toward the Strands’ home. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve already gotten his blessing,” Carlos answered with a smug grin to answer TK’s astonished expression. “That’s what we were talking about earlier today, before you interrupted us.”

“Well, you’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

“I think I’d like very badly to kiss you, but I’ll hold off. Wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize your good opinion of me, would we?’ His smile was absolutely radiant. TK thought to himself that if this were to be his life, staring at this gorgeous face full of love for all his days, he’d never be unhappy again. 

*

The fire was dying down and Carlos finally moved to take his leave. 

“Must you go?” TK couldn’t quite keep the pout from his voice, but at least now, he did not care too much if Carlos heard it.

“I’ve stayed too long as it is, people will talk,” he answered with an indulgent smile as TK walked him out of the parlor and into the hallway. The servants had long gone to bed, so it was up to TK himself to help Carlos on with his coat. 

“You’re my fiance now,” he said, glowing all the while and unable to help it. “People will have to get used to the fact that I want to be around you every waking moment of the day without pause.”

“Yes, but no one knows that yet and I wouldn’t want to besmirch your good name.” 

“When will I see you again, then?” He slid the overcoat onto broad shoulders, nearly letting his fingers linger a bit too long for propriety.

“I’ll call tomorrow to meet with your father again. We do have actual business to finalize after all. You’ll be there, won’t you?” Now it was Carlos’ turn to pout a bit, and TK was powerless against it. 

“Of course. Well, I’ll say good night.” He looked up into the face of the most beautiful man, the man he was going to spend the rest of his unbelievably happy days with. 

“Good night, my heart,” said Carlos, reaching up a hand to caress TK’s face so gently it caused an aching pang in his heart. Slowly, carefully, he moved his calloused thumb across TK’s lips, back and forth a few times as if trying to memorize the shape of them. TK gave a small shudder.

“My, Mr. Reyes, you’re being very forward.” He couldn’t help smiling. As the man had not removed his hand yet, TK pursed his lips ever so slightly, bestowing a chaste kiss against his thumb.

Carlos chuckled softly, covering an intake of breath. “Now who’s forward?” He was smiling so wide it looked as if it hurt.

“You’re my fiance,” TK answered against the warm skin, the word still feeling like glistening honey in his mouth, “I can be as forward as I like.”

“God in heaven, I want to kiss you.” Carlos looked like he might do it, but restrained himself as a gentleman should. They’d pushed the bounds of propriety enough for one day, TK supposed. Though he would have welcomed it gladly, as clandestine and salacious as it would have been. After a few more strokes, Carlos finally dropped his hand from TK’s face. “This will have to do for now, I suppose.” He took TK’s own hand in his and laid a gentle kiss against his knuckles. 

“But not for long?” 

“No, my heart. Not for long. I won’t be able to do with a long engagement. I will perish before I make it to the church if you make me wait for more than a couple of months.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But my father will want to invite the whole of New York, so you know.” He couldn’t help a roll of his eyes, however fond the gesture was. His father loved a good party, and the marriage of his only son—finally, he would probably say—was sure to prove one for the ages. 

“Ah, yes, and we mustn’t forget the entirety of the county back home, if my mother and Christina have anything to say about it,” Carlos said with another fond chuckle. “You have her to thank, by the way. For getting me out of my head and back on solid ground. My sister is your champion in sickness and in health. That is, until I get to call you my husband.”

TK shuddered again at the mere word. 

“I really should go,” Carlos said again. He made no move toward the door. 

“You really should,” TK prompted. He moved to open the door, and finally they broke their gaze from each other. 

As Carlos stepped out, he turned to smile one last time and it turned TK’s stomach into a whole flock of butterflies. “Good night, dearest. I’ll call on you and your father tomorrow.”

“I will be dying a slow death until that moment breathes me back to life,” TK lamented.

“As will I.”

TK watched him walk away into the night before finally closing the door against the chill of the Manhattan midnight. For several long moments, he simply leaned against the door and caught his breath, giving thanks to all the forces that managed to bring the two of them together so favorably. He’d have to write to Christina the moment he woke in the morning. 

#tarlos period drama #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #of will and wildflowers #brooke writes #IT'S DONE GUYS #enjoy :) #I'm going to sleep now

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

Bring your Daughter to Court Day and Dad Friends

Summary: Rafael tries to multitask, miscommunicating the date he direly needs a sitter to Lucia, which means Catalina has to accompany him to court last minute. He manages to maintain his serious demeanor as well as he can, rewarding the well behaved little one with ice cream and a trip to the park. Suddenly, Rafael realizes he doesn’t have dad friends, and the opportunity arises to gain one. 

Pairings: Rafael Barba x OC

First Part - Second Part -Third Part - Fourth Part - Fifth Part - Sixth Part

A/N: This installation also partially based off of @teamsladsandgents​ ask a couple weeks ago that Down A Sitter was based on.

How had his mother forgotten she was supposed to babysit? Apparently, it was because Rafael Barba sent March 18 instead of 8, probably while he was making Catalina’s lunch and thinking that was the time for an email. Now, his mother was in Florida with Enrique, and he was without a sitter because Rebecca, Al, and Rodney were on the trip together. He could probably take her to Olivia’s, have Lucy watch her, but there wasn’t time to do that and make it to the courthouse. Lucia lived too far away. That left him with one option, and it was one he wasn’t sure he liked.

It was another defense case, a pillar of the community who killed his daughter’s abuser. It was all heat of the moment; the bastard had shown up on his step looking for Brendon’s daughter, the one he’d raped and left nearly dead. The other women? The ones he hadn’t dated? They hadn’t been lucky enough for the nearly. In minutes, he’d shot him, calling the police on himself. Olivia had convinced him to take it. And now it looked like he’d have company.

“Mija, how good can you be if papi brings you to work?” Her eyes lit up as she looked up at him.

“I can be so good, papi! I’ll help.”

“I’d just need you to be very, very quiet. That’ll be the best.”

“But I want to help.”

“You have to protect papi’s briefcase,” he fibbed, thankful selective defense work meant he just needed the file within it.

“I can,” she nodded seriously. He fastened her into her car seat, kissing her forehead and getting to the courthouse. He was grateful he could transition the necessities to a less full suitcase, leaving behind spare pens and pads of paper and only taking the file, a couple of pens, snacks, a bottle, the ipad, and her coloring book and box of crayons. Consolidating made him feel less messy. Most people at the courthouse didn’t know the dad side of him, and even as he relaxed, he hadn’t quite shaken the reputation he earned as a prosecutor. Now, he was clad in one of his dark three piece suits with a bright tie and suspenders, just like everyone was used to, the same briefcase in his hand. What they weren’t used to was the little girl with his eyes settled on his hip, clad in bright pink leggings and a white sweater with her arms wrapped tight around her father’s shoulders.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked, brow raised as he shifted Catalina to walk through the metal detector. Her blanket was clutched in her hand from the car still, and she held it from the floor, carefully walking through.

“Cute kid,” the guard asked. This was one who’d been here forever, and he seemed surprised. 

“Thank you.” He picked Catalina up again, briefcase by his side. He’d developed more muscle definition in his arms than he’d ever had since Rebecca went back to work. Catalina refused to walk, and he enjoyed fatherhood too much to make her. 

“If you’re good until we leave, we’ll get the biggest sundae you’ve ever had, mija,” he reminded her during an empty stretch of hallway. Catalina nodded seriously up at him, and he smiled more fondly than he intended, nodding to his client. He’d sent a text of warning, but the older man just gave him a grin.

“Taylor was a daddy’s girl too. Thank you, Mr. Barba. I know you could have tried to continue this.”

“I don’t want to draw this out for you anymore, I assure you. If it means unorthodox company, so be it. We may be waiting for a while.” 

He settled the coloring book on his briefcase, and Catalina sat on the bench beside it, using it like a makeshift desk. He entrusted Brandon to watch her while he stepped to the clerk.

“How long is the wait running for The People vs Aerie?” he asked, and he remembered why he didn’t like this one.

“Who’s the cutie?” she asked, popping her gum as she slowly looked at the docket.

“I asked a question,” he said impatiently. He didn’t want this day to be about his child. He wasn’t even sure he liked sharing her with work. The divide, save the friendships he’d made, was too deep. Fin, Amanda, Liv, and Carisi were one thing. Everyone else? He was fine without them. 

“Geeze, I’m just wondering if she’s your niece or somethin’. It’s hot seeing a man with a kid.”

“She’s my daughter. Her mother is out of town and there was miscommunication with the sitter.”

“I didn’t know you were married, counsellor.”

“Please just give me an estimate.”

“Couple hours. I’ll bump you as far up as I can.”

“Thank you.”

He turned to see Catalina chatting happily to Brandon, and he thought it might be a blessing she was here. Brandon hadn’t been handling things well. Sure, he was handling things better than Rafael had; he let his wife and daughter be there for him. But he was also treating himself as less worthy now, grappling with the reality that he’d ended a life even if he didn’t regret doing it. He’d confided in Rafael as they prepped that he worried he was never going to be good again. That’s when Rafael did something that confirmed the change in him: he was vulnerable with him. They talked about something not many people had in common. Ending a life changes you, and though they did it for different reasons, both felt they’d done what they needed. 

“She’s smart as hell,” Brandon chuckled, watching Catalina color. “And looks exactly like you.”

“I’m very fortunate. Her, not so much,” he joked, hand resting on her back as he sat back down so she was between the pair of them. 

“Cute co-counsel,” Carisi said, stopping by. 

“Mr. Sonny!” Catalina grinned, and Rafael almost grinned. Carisi, while Rafael would always give him hell, attended their church, was overall a good guy and attorney, and had become one of Catalina’s chosen few during playdates with Jessie and Billie Rollins. He’d even been babysitter one Saturday night to give Rebecca and Rafael a night off, so he was developing soft spot for the young ADA. 

“Cat!” he grinned, leaning down and hugging her. Catalina didn’t let go, and Sonny put his briefcase down to hold her for a minute. “What are you doing here?”

“Protecting papi’s briefcase!” Catalina spoke well for her age, but he was going to miss the staccato of her toddler chatter. Carisi and the abuelitas and the squad could all understand her easily. They all had enough experience with kids. There had always been a delay between her words and his replies at first. Words would break up or run together, and he’d have to process things. Now it didn’t matter how she strung the noises together; he got it as easily as Rebecca.

“Wow, big responsibilities, kiddo. I gotta go to court. I’ll see you soon, okay?” he grinned, ruffling Catalina’s hair before she climbed back to the bench and leaned against Rafael. He was proud that his daughter hurried to his side when she wanted protection from the strange place and people around them. It made him feel like he was doing something right. The clerk, as annoying as she was, did get them moved up, and Rafael carried Catalina in, setting her on the bench directly behind his seat. After a few moments, she got nervous, standing and leaning against the bannister as everyone got settled. Rafael quietly urged her to sit as everyone settled in, looking over the file before him. She didn’t, looking around at the busy courtroom, and he set his mouth in a line, picking her up and fighting the urge to smile as her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her head came to rest on his shoulder.

“Do you need a continuance, Mr. Barba?” the judge asked. He’d been in front of this judge before. Last time, it was as a prosecutor in the Martha Hobbs case. He supposed that was why there was a tone of amusement in his voice. There goes whatever reputation he had left, but it didn’t bother him like he expected. 

“Not at all,” he said breezily. Suddenly, he realized he’d perfected that parental stance. The one where fingers laced around the toddler on his hip, but he could still take back a hand to turn pages and write notes. He’d always thought it was some kind of magic when Liv did it with Noah. “Shall we move ahead with Mr. Aerie’s arraignment?”

“Of course. Nothing unusual here.” Rafael fought the urge to roll his eyes, cutting his eyes to the ADA for this case covering a laugh. He was just glad it wasn’t Carisi this time.

“He’s weird,” Catalina whispered, well aware of how to keep her voice quiet enough only her father could hear her. He squeezed her gently, the corner of his mouth tugging up. Soon enough, Brandon was being escorted to pay bail, and Catalina had commented on the whole affair. She’d done much better than he’d expected, so he knew he’d be taking her for ice cream. His biggest worry had been the courtroom with it’s crowded benches, but she’d settled in just fine on his hip. 

It was still strange to him the way he could be a source of comfort for her, and he felt the weight of responsibility in the best way. She trusted him implicitly, looked for him when she needed comfort. Sure, she’d leave his side for a friend, but she’d always want to come back and climb onto his lap. It struck him again how unimaginable his father’s behavior was. In fact, he’d thought about it a lot as he took care of Catalina, especially the past few days with Rebecca gone. His first instinct with her was never anger. Occasional frustration with a tantrum, but she was learning to understand the world and needed him to make some part of it safe and consistent, not scary and volatile.

“Bye Mr. Aerie,” she said softly as they parted ways, Brandon’s wife ecstatic to get him home. Taylor was still in the hospital, and they’d be spending the night by her side. This case made him wish he could keep Catalina with him forever, safe from the kind of people he’d seen in his tenure at SVU. She wrapped around his knees on the steps of the courthouse as he answered questions. Media moved on, and they didn’t want to examine him anymore. They just wanted the statement and to follow Brandon into the waiting car. He would’ve held his daughter close, but he didn’t want her face plastered on the news. Rafael didn’t leave the Aeries until the SUV’s door closed, Catalina’s hand held in his. Once they were gone, he scooped her up and started towards the ice cream parlor he knew was only a couple of blocks away.

“You were very good today, mija,” he smiled gently, kissing the top of her head. “I think we ought to go for a walk and get you some ice cream.”

“Really?” she asked, and her smile was wide enough he could not say no if he wanted.

“Really,” he nodded, laughing as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Gracias, papi!”

A long time ago, he would have tried to maintain the composure and seriousness from inside the courthouse until he was far from where anyone could see him this relaxed. Now he was adjusting his briefcase, as his daughter told him all about what she wanted on her ice cream. She wouldn’t take a nap that afternoon after the amount of sugar he was about to give her, but he had a feeling the grin he’d get, her face covered in melted chocolate and ice cream, would be worth it.

“Ms. Olivia!” Catalina’s voice made him follow her gaze, seeing Liv making her way to the courthouse. 

“So that’s how you got Brandon moved up the docket.”

“I added a one to the date when I texted mami to babysit while Becs is gone,” he said, mouth set in a line again. He didn’t like the fact this story was both unavoidable and going to be told forever.

“So Cat got to come to court?”

“Al and Rodney are with Becs. Mami is in Florida.”

“I was so good,” Catalina said proudly. “And Mr. Brandon got bailed.”

“Recognizance didn’t work?” she asked.

“He has the means to flee. But the bail is minimal. We’re going to get ice cream.”

“Because I was so good,” Catalina added, face serious as she nodded.

“You were, mija. Say bye to Oliva.” 

Soon, they were sitting at a table in the ice cream shop, and there was far more ice cream in front of Catalina than Rebecca would ever approve of. He’d originally said one scoop, any toppings, but then she asked with wide eyes if she could get three flavors. Normally, he’d try to say no, but not today. She’d been good at the courthouse, plus he was the one she inherited her sweet tooth from. They’d gotten four scoops and every topping she wanted with an agreement she’d share with papi. He’d almost teared up when she said I always share with papi. Almost. But now he was taking a picture of them together, trying to decide how much he hated that he took selfies now. But, he only took selfies like this, of him sitting in a low booth with Catalina beside him and the massive sundae between them. Surely, that didn’t count? He sent it to Rebecca anyway.

Guess who was an angel in court. We miss you, mami.

Certainly not the hot one. Proud of her. I miss you both terribly.

What time do you get home tonight?

Eleven. The boys are dropping me off. And I’m guessing that sugar means you’ll both be up.

I’ll be up either way. Te amo, hermosa. I hope the trip has been good to you.

I love you, handsome. It has been, but I miss my family.

“Should we video call mami when we get home?” he asked when sticky hands had been cleaned as they walked back to the car. He saw familiar faces passing them by, giving nods as they approached the courthouse they’d parked near. 

“Yeah!” she nodded eagerly, and Rafael could see the energy hitting her. 

“Or maybe we call her from the park? Then you can play! Run around and swing and slide.” He was humming each activity, pressing kisses to the top of her head. He hadn’t taken her to Central Park yet, and he’d been to the Billy Johnson Playground on the east side with Olivia and Noah when she’d needed a friend. It looked like an old part of the nature around it, making him think of the stories Catalina was so fond of. She liked gnomes and cottages in the woods lately, and the little park fit right in. Plus, the focus was more on what she could run on and climb, but still with the swing he could push her on when she got tired. When she did get tired, he could rest with her at the little gazebo and feel secluded and out of the city.

Maybe they needed a vacation.

“Yes!” she giggled, hugging his neck. He smiled, stopping at the car to order an Uber. To and from court was all the driving he intended to do. He traded his briefcase for the diaper bag, leaving his vest and blazer now that the day had warmed up and tucked one of the blankets Rebecca insisted was in case of emergency in the diaper bag. 

“We’re going to a really special park.”

“Why’s it special?”

“You know the pretty one the zoo is at?”

“Yeah?”

“Papi knows a cool playground there. It looks like gnomes live there.”

“That is cool,” she said, her excitement apparent. He loaded them into the car, ever grateful to not have to drive, and tipped generously when the driver was kind enough to drop them off away from the zoo. As soon as they were in the park, Catalina wanted down, her hand in his as they walked along the path.  When they got to the little gazebo, he stopped, and Catalina looked up at him quizzically.

“Want to call mami from here?” She lit up, pulling herself to stand on the bench he sat on. Rebecca was packing up, he knew, so he wasn’t surprised when she answered quickly, blowing her hair from her face. When she fully registered it was them, she grinned. 

“Mama!” 

“Catalina!”

“Becs!”

“Raf!”

Rebecca was relieved to see the day really must be going well. Catalina was giddy, blue from what Rebecca guessed was cotton candy ice cream staining the cuff of her sweater as she pushed her hair back. Rafael was smiling, the one that showed his teeth and crinkled his eyes. They still hadn’t been home, but the image of Rafael in the dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his tie and suspenders featuring the same shade of pink as their daughters pants was perfection. She wasn’t sure he realized how often he did it, but she didn’t want him to stop matching their daughter so she’d never tell. 

“You guys seem like you’re having fun! Maybe it’s good papi can’t type.” This time Rafael laughed because he was kind of thankful for his snafu. This weekend was only his third or fourth time out and about with Catalina for more than a trip to the park or run to the grocery store. This weekend, they’d gone to a museum and church on their own, and now they were having another daddy daughter day. He liked it. 

“Papi and I had...lunch....that wasn’t ice cream. And now we’re at a special playground!”

“The Billy Johnson Playground at Central Park. I’ll take pictures for you, mami.”

“You two will have fun. You’ll have to show it to me one day.”

“Secret park!” Catalina said seriously and his smile grew broader, arm around her middle. 

“Maybe we can show mami this part before?”

“Deal.” They said their goodbyes soon enough, Rebecca heading to the airport. He watched as Catalina walked just a couple of steps ahead, looking back over her shoulder to be sure he was there. Her eyes lit up when she saw the park, and Rafael was glad to see there were other kids her age there. They hadn’t quite found her a group of friends her own age; Fin’s grandson, Jaden, was one of only a couple, and Rafael didn’t know the other two well. He stayed close to her as she hurried to the climbing set, taking pictures and sending them on to Rebecca. Mostly, moms and nannies were there, and he felt slightly out of place. When he was in groups of parents, he always found himself wondering who knew. Shifting awkwardly, he nodded towards them and went back to watching his daughter with a fond smile.

She’d found two sisters, one her age and one who looked to be about five. The older girl was helping the younger two navigate the playset, leading them to slides and climbing nets easily. Each time Catalina looked unsteady on her feet, which was often given her age, he wanted to scoop her up, but apparently it was important to let her take a tumble or two. Rafael didn’t like that idea or the fact that they had to keep bandages in the diaper bag. Luckily, the time she did fall, landing on her rear with her legs out, the older of her new friends laughed and helped her up. 

“I’m guessing white sweater is yours?” a man asked, and he chuckled. 

“Yeah.”

“Her new friends are mine. Flower pants and leopard dress.”

“They made friends fast.”

“Is she into princesses and fairy tales?”

“Yeah. Especially gnomes right now?”

“Sarah is my eldest. She’s obsessed with Fairies.”

“Makes sense. Catalina like fairies too.”

“She and Megan look the same age?”

“Two and a half?”

“Right on,” he chuckled. “I’m Hank.”

“Rafael. I think we’re the only dads here today.”

“Yeah. It’s normally just me during the day when we’re here. I’m a writer, so I can stay home while my wife’s at work. You’re all dressed up though. I’m guessing this isn’t your normal day?”

“I’m an attorney, but I work from home.”

“How does that work?” 

“I work with the Innocence Project. Meetings with defendants are Mondays. I can do the paperwork and brief writing from home. Then court when needed. I take defense work on occasion, like today. Sitter fell through so Cat had to come. My girlfriend is a teacher, and she snuck off with her friends for a long weekend.”

“My wife’s a school librarian. We picked those educators, huh?”

“Apparently.” It felt so normal to be talking to him, and Rafael thought to himself maybe he could have a dad friend now. His friends from Harvard and the DA’s office and SVU had kids, but they’d always have been work colleagues first. There was no erasing what they’d seen together, the tension over cases, the Householder case. Hank seemed nice enough, and they had similar lives. At least they could team up on park trips since it turned out their usual stomping grounds overlapped. 

God, Hank looked like a writer though. He had on a thick flannel over a t-shirt, and tattoos peaked out of the rolled up sleeves. Slim fit jeans and black sneakers, the cool kind not the functional kind, just rounded it out. He was tall and lanky and younger than him, and Rafael suddenly felt he could be Catalina, Megan and Sarah’s grandfather. Hell, he technically could. Still, he was new to this, and he supposed most men in their fifties weren’t settling down with a partner for the first time and raising their first child. Besides, Hank was probably still a little older than Rebecca.

“Megan scraped her knee,” Sarah said, running over to the two men, followed by Catalina holding the hand of teary Megan. 

“Shit-”

“Dad, that’s a bad word.”

“Shoot,” Hank corrected. “I forgot the bag.”

“I’ve got bandages. Princess ones,” Rafael said, digging the box from the diaper bag. “There’s neosporin in there too.”

“Thanks.” 

Catalina climbed on Rafael’s lap, and he could tell by how she laid back against him that he had succeeded; she was tired out. Rafael didn’t want to go yet, able to hear Hank saying they’d head home once Megan was patched up. Was making friends as an adult always so much like asking for a girl’s number was when he was younger? He hadn’t been a dad for long, only a few months. Maybe having someone other than Rebecca he could call during tantrums and long days would be good?

“Hey, before everyone heads out, maybe we can all meet at the park again sometime? The girls seemed to really get along.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Hank said, digging out his phone and handing it to Rafael. “Put your number in. I haven’t made many dad friends who aren’t also writers or don’t have traditional office jobs. We’re both basically house husbands.”

“Yeah. And it’s hard.”

“Easier than it was two years ago though, right? Five’s even easier.”

“I actually only found out I was a dad in December. It’s a long story. But it’s easier now than in January.”

“We’ll delve into that at the park later this week?”

“Perfect. Do you take insurance?”

“As long as you’ve hit your deductible. Send me the pictures of the girls, okay?”

“Will do,” he nodded as they walked towards the sidewalk. He’d ordered an Uber to take he and Catalina back to his car. Soon enough, he was cooking her dinner, watching her dance around the kitchen to the soft jazz he was playing, and Rafael was grateful for the break from Disney. Not having Rebecca’s return each evening made him appreciate even more how much she’d had to do to keep their daughter happy and healthy and safe for the last two years. He needed the time he’d had to heal, but he often wished he could go back and be here to help sooner. It was his own fault. Instead of pressing the guilt down like he used to, he let himself acknowledge it, tucking it to the side instead as he settled a bowl of macaroni in front of Catalina. Once she was tucked in, he put his feet on the coffee table, working on his laptop and only pausing to send Hank the pictures he’d snapped of the girls playing. He heard Rebecca at the door at eleven, just like she’d estimated, and he hurried to meet her. 

“Heya, handsome,” she grinned, and Rafael could feel the stupid grin split his face.

“Welcome home, hermosa,” he beamed, pulling her in and kissing her deeply. 

“Missed me?” she teased as she smoothed his hair.

“Terribly,” he nodded. “I’ve been spoiled to see you every day.”

“It seems like you and Cat had a good time though?”

“Yeah. We went to the Children’s Museum Saturday. Then Sunday was mass and lazy movies. Today was hectic, but good.”

“Yeah? You two seemed happy at the park. And ice cream for lunch.”

“We had a lot of fun at the park. She made friends with two girls, Sarah and Megan. They have a playdate Thursday.”

“Oh yeah?” she chuckled. “You finally click with the playground moms?”

“Hank. He’s a writer, and his wife is a school librarian. His girls are two and five. He’s home with them most of the time.” Rebecca couldn’t help but grin at how he tried to pretend it was just convenient. 

“That’s cool. I bet it could be nice talking to non-police or court affiliated people, hm? Maybe you two could grab a beer sometime.”

“We’ll see. He’s surprisingly nice to talk to. Sarah and Megan have the same tantrums.”

#rafael barba #rafael barba x oc #rafael Barba x reader #law and order #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: part 16

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Part 12 Part 13 part 14

part 15

Damienette arranged marriage: part 16

NEXT

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

“Maman! Papa! I am home! There is someone I wanted to intro…” She walked into the living room, still holding Damian by his hand. The sight was as scary as it was amusing.

Sabine was standing next to Talia Al Ghouls, who sitting there… tied with heavy ropes. 

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

“Maman!” Marinette shouted in panic and wanted to jump and push her mother away from the dangerous woman until Damian stopped her. He was actually chuckling.

“Seriously mother?” He pulled his phone and took a quick photo which he immediately sent to his brothers. “I did not expect you to get beaten by....”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! What the fuck is the meaning of this?!” Sabine interrupted Damian. The girl in question shivered. Her mom never cursed. Never.

“Uh… We planned on talking with you and papa today…”

“You are married!” She shouted. Suddenly, before either Marinette or Damian could react, someone grabbed him and lifted him in the air. Tom was having a very serious face.

“tt. Drop me!”

“I don’t think so young man.”

Papa! Maman! He is innocent! He didn’t want to go with this either!” Marinette actually feared for what would happen to Damian. I just hope that having one Akuma today would be enough for Hawkmoth…

“Sweety… Do you know who he is? Who his mother is?” Her mother’s voice was a bit more caring and worried instead of angry.

“Yes.” Marinette stated firmly. “He is my husband and she is a bitch.” She explained, remembering the excruciating pain in her heart that was caused by the ritual. The bluenette fully expected her mother to scold her for cursing. Instead, all she received was a shrug.

“Maybe you do know her then…” Sabine looked a bit amused.

Bewildered, Marinette looked at Damian, who was still hanging in the air held by the neck. He only shrugged. “You are not wrong Angel.” He winced as Tom tightened his grip. 

“Mmfmfmfmf!” Talia gave a muffled sound. Only now Marinette noticed that she had her mouth plastered with silver tape.

“It doesn’t change the fact that you are married! This is serious Young Lady!”

“I know!” Marinette lost her patience. This day seemed to just go on and on and she wanted to finally lie down and rest. “Do you believe I chose it?! I did not! I woke up and was told that it was this or mass genocide of monks who apparently considered me their leader!”

“Oh sweety. I am sorry. This must be so hard for you too.” Her mother walked and hugged her. A tear formed in Marinette’s eyes. Her parents were harsh sometimes, but they truly loved her.

“Why would this monks believe you as their leader.” Tom asked confused.

“Because… I am ladybug.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The baker exlaimed.

“No Mr. Tom. She is saying the truth.” Tikki decided that this was the right moment to show herself. 

“AAAAAH!!! Flying bug mouse!” Tom screamed and dropped Damian in surprise. The teen fell with loud THUD!

“That could have gone better…” He commented.

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

Three weeks ago

“Father…” Adrien walked into Gabriel’s atelier. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Yes son. What is it that bother you?” Since they revealed their identities to each other the two of them became much closer. Gabriel often enclosed the details of his plans to Adrien and the boy gave his opinions. Chat Noir stopped going out to help Ladybug, but he didn’t attack her either. They wanted to retain the element of surprise.

“Well… My Kwami said that Black Cat holder and Ladybug holders are always supposed to be soulmates, perfectly complementary, made for each other. And yet my Lady is married to someone else. She never felt anything for me…”

“She is not a true Ladybug then.” Older Agreste said dismissively, not looking up from his designs.

“What?” Adrien exclaimed surprised. 

“You said it yourself that she is married.” Gabriel still didn’t look up from his designing board. “So she should have already unlocked her full potential by now. If she didn’t, it means she should have never been chosen as Ladybug in the first place, much less a guardian.”

“So she was never really my Lady…” The boy almost whispered. This time his father actually bothered to look up. He saw the dull look in his son’s eyes and walked to him. He placed a hand on his shoulder, making Adrien look up to the older man

“There is nothing wrong with being mistaken.” He started. “You are still young. Once we take the miraculous away from the imposter and restore your mother, you will be free to give the earrings to the girl that is truly made for you.”

“But… How will I know her father?”

“You already do. She has a true soul of creation and pure heart. That girl… Mari-ann or something.”

“Marinette?!” Adrien beamed

“Yes. I suspected her for being Ladybug for a long time until you revealed the truth. She is a true Ladybug, one made for you.”

“But she is… You really think she is the best for me, Father?”

“Yes son. I believe that you two should be together. But she needs your help.”

“Is it about Lila father? I am sure you know that the girl is a liar, but you always taught me to take the high…”

“Lila is part of the plan. Your Ladybug suppresses her emotions constantly. She avoid my grasp. Out of her class my Akumas can never reach her and her alone. She always push it away. But I know she will be my strongest akuma ever. I believe she will be able to take away Ladybug’s earrings, partially because they belong to her.”

“So you made Lila do all those things?!” Adrien raged.

“Son. Remember why we are doing it. Remember what is at stake.”

“Forgive me father. I… I allowed emotions to take better of me.”

“I do not fault you son.” Gabriel comforted him. “But for my plan to succeed, she must succumb to her emotions. And look at the class. They abandon her the moment they get better alternative. Are this really the friends she should have?”

“I guess not Father. You are right.” 

Gabriel grinned. His son was so pure and gullible. It was too easy to earn his loyalty and compliance. The boy would believe anything he said. Soon, he would have his greatest Akuma and both Ladybug earrings and Black Cat miraculous. He would even get all the other miraculous since Ladybug was the new guardian. All he had to do was play his pawns right. 

“I know this must not be easy for you my son.”

“No Father…” Adrien’s expression changed and for the first time Gabriel saw himself in the boy. This was not the gentle, naive boy. It was almost like he looked in the mirror. Cold and calculative eyes and malicious smirk. “She will be mine. And we shall have a perfect family together, like we always dreamed.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell  @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin @novicevoice @justafanwarrior @eliza-bitch @schrodingers25 @tired-butterfly

#damienette #maribat #maribat au #marinette x damian #arranged marriage au #maridami #guardian!marinette #order of the guardians #evil!adrien #league of assassins #batman #mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug

[ourimpavidheroine]

You always post your writing soundtracks. Mind sharing your top ten albums with us?

I actually laughed when I read this because I’m thinking of the Anon who complained that all of my music was OLD. I mean. I’m old! What did you expect?

Never mind me, I’m easily amused. Thank you for using the word album so I would not feel like Lady Danbury with my lethal cane.

Yes, sure I can do that! I don’t know that these are my forever and ever amen top ten, but they are the ones that are coming to mind right now. So.

Under a cut, it’s long. 

In no particular order.

Brutal Youth - Elvis Costello

My ex-husband was in love with Elvis Costello and who could blame him? The man is a genius lyricist. This is not one of his more commercially popular albums but I love every single track. (I also lined up at Ticketmaster in Oakland, CA when the man was touring in order to get tickets for my ex. I got there at midnight and spent the night, meeting a group of drag queens who were getting tickets to see Barbara Streisand. God, that was a fun night, we ate donuts one of them went on a donut run for and sang showtunes for hours. One of my favorite memories.) This verse, from Clown Strike, is one that has resonated with me since I first heard it.

Tell me what you want of me Or are you terrified of failure? You put on a superstitious face Behind all this paraphernalia We're not living in a masquerade Where you only have three wishes It isn't easy to see In a lifetime of mistaken kisses

Unrepentant Geraldines - Tori Amos

I remember the first time I heard a Tori Amos song. It was the summer directly after I’d graduated from college, I was driving my ex-husband’s car and Silent All These Years came on the radio and I was just fucking gobsmacked. I bought Little Earthquakes that day and haven’t looked back. I have all her albums. I am a big, big fan.

Unrepentant Geraldines, though. God. It came out the year before my wife died and it got me through her death. The song Weatherman is about a man losing his wife, and how he sees her in the nature surrounding him. 

And. 

No, sorry, I can’t write more about this, not right now. But I sing it to her sometimes. 

He is not a weatherman But his bride lies with the land And she will whisper to him I'll be dressing up in snow Cloaked in echo it's almost As if only Nature knows How to paint his wife to life With every season's tone "One more look from her eyes One more look can you paint her back to life"

Ray of Light - Madonna

This album got me through my divorce from my ex-husband. I’d go out every single day during my lunch hour, this on my walkman, and walk and walk and walk until I got myself in enough control to go back and finish my work day. It’s a great album and I still listen to it a lot. It empowers me. And then my daughter was born and Ray of Light has always been her song to me, even though that wasn’t the song on the album that Madonna herself wrote for her daughter.

Faster than the speeding light she's flying Trying to remember where it all began She's got herself a little piece of heaven Waiting for the time when Earth shall be as one And I feel like I just got home And I feel And I feel like I just got home And I feel

Seven and the Ragged Tiger - Duran Duran

This one was a difficult choice. For one thing, I really love their album Big Thing, which almost nobody’s heard about but one I love deeply. This one though...I think it’s the memories, including going to see them at the Oakland Coliseum with my cousin during their tour for this album and finding out they were partially filming the video for The Reflex that night. I like to think of us as being one of those girls in the audience. (Although I wasn’t screaming. I am a Capricorn. Have some dignity.) Duran Duran were responsible for my first fanfic and I’ve had a love for them since my Dad bought me their first album for my 13th birthday. I am nothing if not loyal. I have all of their early albums, all of their 12″ singles, too, including Secret Oktober, which I have always loved with a passion.

Also, Roger Taylor can still get it.

Freefall on a windy morning shore nothing but a fading track of footsteps Could prove that you never been there Spoken on a cotton cloud like the sound of gunshot taken by the wind And lost in distant thunder racing on a shining plain And tomorrow you'll be content to watch as the lightning plays along the wires and you'll wonder

Touch - Eurythmics

Another band I still love and listen to on the regular. Annie Lennox could sing me the telephone book and I’d be thrilled. Seeing her at age 14 in the Sweet Dreams video for the first time in my Grandmother’s living room quite literally woke something in me that led to moving across the world for a woman years later. (GOD.) I have all of their albums and choosing a favorite is difficult but this one won by a narrow margin, if only for the song Regrets, which is one of the songs that describes me until I became a mother, really. Like I RESONATED with that song. Still does in certain ways, if I am being truthful to myself.

I've got a delicate mind I've got a dangerous nature And my fist collides With your furniture I've got a delicate mind I've got a dangerous nature And my fist collides With your furniture I'm an electric wire And I'm stuck inside your head

Combat Rock - The Clash

Ah, teenage Impavid first understanding that music can also be political. Listen, I didn’t know much about what was going on outside of my own miniscule sphere - I was young and the internet didn’t exist yet. We got what news we got from our local paper and TV stations and they weren’t really reporting on what was happening in the world, not in 1982, let me fucking assure you. I got this album because my Dad was a part time DJ at a radio station that played mostly country music and the general manager of the station would just toss the rest of the non-country albums they’d get as promotions. My Dad would bring them home to me to listen to. You can imagine thirteen year old me listening to this album that opened with “This is a public service announcement - with guitars!” going WHAT THE FUCK? Let me just say there were a lot of trips to the library to read various newspapers after that.

Not to mention Rock the Casbah. What was a muezzin? I had no idea. I spent half a year reading books about Islam, about the Middle East and Northern Africa, which led to a curiosity about other religions beyond the Roman Catholicism in which I’d been raised, about other cultures as well. This album and The Color Purple by Alice Walker were the two things in my teen years that woke me the fuck up.

Now the king told the boogie men You have to let that raga drop The oil down the desert way Has been shakin' to the top The sheik he drove his Cadillac He went a' cruisin' down the ville The muezzin was a' standing On the radiator grille

Synchronicity - The Police

This fucking album. This fucking album. This album reached deep down into me and pulled out my soul and kicked it around for awhile. Every single song on this album hit me like a brick wall. Still does. Most likely always will.

Listen, you either like King of Pain or you live it. There’s no in between.

There's a little black spot on the sun today It's the same old thing as yesterday There's a black hat caught in a high tree top There's a flag pole rag and the wind won't stop I have stood here before inside the pouring rain With the world turning circles running 'round my brain. I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign, But it's my destiny to be the king of pain...

Sign O’ The Times - Prince 

The soundtrack to my University days. Jesus, it starts out with “In France a skinny man died of a big disease with a little name,” and it just keeps going. Pain, sex, wonder, glory, politics, love. It’s all there. I wore the vinyl out on this one. Amazing, amazing album. In fact, I still play it so often my kids practically know it by heart, and they don’t even like Prince!

To this day I think If I Was Your Girlfriend is the sexiest song ever written.

I will tell you this much: Sayuri’s main writing soundtrack song is Starfish and Coffee off the album, the same song I used to sing my kids as a lullaby. This should tell you a lot about her.

Cynthia wore the prettiest dress With different color socks Sometimes I wondered if the mates where in her lunchbox Me and Lucy opened it when Cynthia wasn't around Lucy cried, I almost died, U know what we found? Starfish and coffee Maple syrup and jam Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine And a side order of ham If U set your mind free, honey Maybe you'd understand Starfish and coffee Maple syrup and jam

Nina Simone Sings The Blues - Nina Simone

This was one of my Daddy’s albums. He loved it and so did I. As a child I just loved the sound of her voice - something in it both soothed me and pulled at me, made me want to run and just keep running. She still makes me feel like that. If you don’t know Nina Simone I urge you to change that, right now. There’s nobody at all like her. She’s irreplaceable. All of her material is good, not just her blues songs. Not to mention, she was an absolute brilliant genius at the piano, never mind the strength she had as a Black woman in a time when doors were shut in her face on a daily basis. Seriously. Read about her.

When I became a woman, of course, her songs took on a much deeper meaning for me, one that I could relate to. Isn’t that the hallmark of a good album, though? One that stays with you and changes with you? I think so.

If you’ve never heard her cover of I Put A Spell On You then do yourself a favor and go right now and listen. You’re welcome.

Oh and Buck from this album? Nuo to Wing, right there.

Also one of the sexiest songs ever written, this one. Especially how she sings it. The Hot Frenchman (have I ever told you about The Hot Frenchman? no? OH BOY THERE’S A STORY) told me he thought it was about drugs and I was like, honey, this tells me a whole lot about you, more than you probably wanted it to.

I want a little sugar In my bowl I want a little sweetness Down in my soul I could stand some lovin' Oh so bad I feel so funny and I feel so sad I want a little steam On my clothes Maybe I can fix things up So they'll go Whatsa matter Daddy Come on, save my soul I need some sugar in my bowl I ain't foolin' I want some sugar in my bowl

I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got - Sinéad O’Connor

This is a beautiful album, full of pain and joy, her hallmark. She sings every single word with everything in her; she’s far too intense for many, many people (and while she’s been open with her mental health struggles I’ve often wondered if she isn’t somewhere on the spectrum as well) but never for me. Her raw honesty has always appealed to me. She’s political, she’s a lover, a mother, a survivor of horrific abuse, someone who keeps reinventing herself as a way to find her way through pain. I always feel, when I am listening to her music, that I am bearing witness. I’m not afraid of pain; I’ve survived it as well. This album, one of her oldest, is still my favorite.

The line “You used to hold my hand when the plane took off” is the most evocative lyric I have ever heard with regards to the ending of love. It’s a punch to the heart - she felt it and she shared it with us, her fragile heart in her palms. Oh, Sinéad.

This is the last day of our acquaintance I will meet you later in somebody's office I'll talk but you won't listen to me I know what your answer will be I know you don't love me anymore You used to hold my hand when the plane took off Two years ago there just seemed so much more And I don't know what happened to our love

#personal #favorite albums #long post #Anonymous

[azure7539arts]

Sword

Pairing: Q/James Bond (00Q)

Prompt(s): Fantasy + Tradesman (for the AU prompt table)

Warning: None

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a prophecy of destruction and resurrection. But that would be a story for another time.

Or: Bond sought out a blacksmith for help. A duel ensued.

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble... And here we are. Special thanks to @10kiaoi and @solarmorrigan because you two have been hearing me whine about this for days. I’m also very grateful to everyone who has given me words of praise and encouragement throughout my writing process! I hope you all enjoy this!

-

-

“Come back in a week, and pick out your champion.” His voice was deceptively soft for the ramrod iron spine behind those words. “Should your warrior prevail, I will consider giving you help.”

Suddenly, Bond felt his blood boil. “A week? Seclusion or not, surely you must be aware of the civil war that’s raging across the country even as we speak.” 

The blacksmith hummed, that blazing fire from the forge just off to the side casting a burning glow on his person. He seemed almost indifferent yet incredibly focused at the same time, and Bond didn’t understand—

“I’m highly aware. Just as much as I’m aware that you and your men have barely scraped through that last battle by the skin of your teeth.” Bond barely swallowed back an indignant hiss, battle-wearied and tormented. The sheer exhaustion and heavy casualty they’d suffered under the hands of the enemy were bleeding his patience dry. “Raging civil war or not, you can’t tell me you don’t need time to regroup. And I’m not so cruel as to strike you when you’re down in the mud and defenceless either.”

Bond’s hand tightened around the hilt of his broken sword.

And for the first time, the blacksmith smiled.

A sudden chill descended over the sweltering furnace heat of the workshop.

“One week from now at dawn break precise, Lord Bond of Skyfall. No more, no less.”

-

The promised day arrived overcast, windswept with the phantom stench of blood in the air, and the blacksmith stood a lone figure in the meadow, a sword seemingly too heavy held in the loose grip of his hand.

Whatever it was made out of, the blade shone like a bright beacon under this angle of light, pure and unblemished like fresh fallen snow, and Bond couldn’t keep his eyes off it.

“Are you serving as your own champion?” the blacksmith asked, his voice steady and slicing right through the hissing air currents. No pretense of pleasantries.

At least Bond could appreciate that.

Alec shifted warily behind him. He’d asked to fight in Bond’s stead before, many times over the course of last week, in fact, but Bond had turned him down every time. Not least because of the still healing gash in his side. 

Bond had come here to ask for a personal weapon, and a weapon he shall get for himself—through his own damn efforts and no one else’s. The troop’s eyes were on him, and he wouldn’t fail. Not right now.

Not like this.

“Yes,” Bond replied simply.

“Good.”

The fight began in an instant, absolutely without preamble, and by the time their weapons made impact with a loud screech of metal on metal, Bond could still hear the surprised cries of his men not too far away. He gritted his teeth and retaliated using brute force to thrust the blacksmith backward, the twang of that clash just now still traveling up his arm in an uncomfortable, numbing ache.

(He’d been skeptical at first, considering the near unbearable youthfulness that had been evident before his eyes, but now, Bond understood why this blacksmith was revered to be one of the legendary masters of the realm.)

Unsurprisingly, the man landed on his feet without trouble, already springing forth by the next breath drawn, and Bond flexed Alec’s borrowed sword, charging straight ahead also, never one to let himself fall into a state of disadvantage if he could help it.

From that point on, the fight progressed in an almost surreal manner.

The blacksmith engaged with a strange leisured fervor—languid but intense, razor sharp yet unhurried. It was as though he was watching—assessing—and the realization raised Bond’s hackles for the first time. He didn’t mind being watched; he’d grown up practically in the eyes of the public, but it was a different thing altogether when he couldn’t tell what he was being watched for.

At least the stormy depths of those cryptic eyes with their ever-changing colors didn’t seem to conceal any malicious intents. And Bond would know; he’d encountered too many backstabbers not to.

“James!”

Bond barely dodged the upward swing that had been close to slitting his throat clean open. Distantly, he wondered if he really had gotten lucky there, but whatever the answer was, the tip of the sword managed to nick him anyway, fresh blood spilling bright red and hot from the veins. He clutched at his neck with a sharp hiss now, eyes narrowed and chest slightly heaving with elevated breaths.

Annoyance flared a bright solar burst underneath the rapid beating of his heart, but Bond calmed down from the sole comfort that his challenger wasn’t doing too well, either. Bond smirked, all teeth and a little predatory.

He had landed a rather vicious kick himself, and judging from how the blacksmith was somewhat hunched over right then instead of reassuming his initial firm, unwavering stance, Bond must’ve caused a bit of damage, too.

Mutual points for both parties, so it would appear. 

Bond looked down to eye at those small indents that had started to chip off from the body of Alec’s once intact sword, and lowered his sticky hand.

“Let’s finish this.”

Despite the fact that the blacksmith’s techniques were a combination of oddities that Bond hadn’t really witnessed before, he still had his real-world experiences from being in and out of active combat for the last ten years or so. Still had all his knowledge from starting out on his courses for martial training twice longer. And Bond could see, with observation and a survival instinct honed through the countless storms of his youth, where the openings of his opponent lay.

That was more than enough.

Bond swung, then, with a turn of his arm, sharply twisted the motion upward. 

Alec’s blade fractured with a resounding clang, but in that singular moment in time, Bond couldn’t find it in himself to be concerned. He reached out and snatched the blacksmith’s flung sword from midair.

It settled into his palm a perfect, balanced weight.

“Impatient bastard,” came a whispered breath.

But Bond couldn’t quite hear it. The words, much like the subsequent clamoring of his men, morphed a jumbled mess in his ears as a whiplash of energy seized up the length of his arm in a shock of lightning from where he was gripping this sword. Glowing runes began materializing along its steel, and Bond sucked in a gulp of air through his teeth.

What felt like just a flawlessly crafted weapon a second ago now bore a sheer familiarity that rendered him incredulous. The sword felt right in his hand, as though itself a newly added extension of him, and its metal rang a vibration that burrowed deep like a blood covenant woven through his very flesh and bones, a humming song of satisfaction and protection.

When Bond realized to lift his head back up again, caught up in the tail end of a dizzying spell, it was to find both himself and the blacksmith encased in a ring of fire. From the looks of things, Alec and his troops were currently trying to find a way to get past the flames, with very little to no success.

The blacksmith stood before him, unbothered by the razing chaos all around, another smile tugging at the corner of his lips while specks of amber seared gilded brands of molten iron in the pools of those eyes.

He was far too calm. Too knowing.

“I won,” Bond said, voice low and unexpectedly hoarse.

“And the sword has chosen you as its first and final master.” He nodded, amused. “It was practically trying to leap out of my hand the second it tasted your blood.”

Bond frowned, storing away the casual implication that the sword—his sword—was at least partially sentient for later inspection.

He had more important matters to investigate at the moment.

“It’s yours to keep now. You can even give it a name—”

“Did you put a curse on this?”

The other man blinked, momentarily blindsided and flustered for the first time since they’d met. “What—A curse? Why would I do that?”

“Then, what is your play here, Battlemage?” Bond ground out, nearly spitting the word. “Posturing as a simple blacksmith.”

Said Battlemage stopped now, head tilting to the side, expression sharpening into a simmering stillness and lethality that sent a shiver up Bond’s spine. While Bond maintained that he was the one spearheading this interrogation, the immense presence of that unblinking stare still made him feel stripped bare and oddly vulnerable. Not unlike a pinned up specimen trapped under a cold and merciless gaze.

(He would quickly learn, after this, that he’d be better off not having this particular side of the battlemage directed at him and his men. For obvious safety reasons.)

“I didn’t posture as anything. I create weapons for my own pleasure,” he replied slowly. “I’ve never claimed to be a blacksmith, nor have I ever called myself one.”

Bond paused, mouth twisting. He recalled their last encounter, knew this to be true. Regardless, there were still too many questions left unanswered. And in a war of this calibre, he’d rather not needlessly risk his followers’ lives and well-being. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re trying to accomplish. Why are you doing this?”

“The opposition has taken to deploying sorcerers to decimate your troops and allies because your king has deprived his people of magic for so long, it’s now become a weakness to be exploited. By one of your very own.”

Such a blatant tone of derision jarred, and Bond clenched his jaws in an involuntary response. However, at the same time, only Alec had ever spoken to him in this kind of straightforward manner, but not really quite so, even then. Not quite like this.

“But you’re not your imbecilic king—you’re a pragmatic man. You understand that this situation requires a proper measure of counterattack,” the Battlemage carried on, that lilting quality to his speech belay the ripping knives behind every word. “I can be that counterattack.”

It was Bond’s turn to stare. To say that he was startled would be an understatement. True sorcerers were already few and far between, but actual battlemages were of a different breed altogether. 

Skilled in not just the arts of war and physical combat, they were also rumored to possess great enough magical capabilities to change even the tides of battles on the precipice of imminent defeat. The appearance of a battlemage had only been recorded throughout the known history for a handful of times, all of which were critical turning points that had marked either the end or the beginning of an era.

The most important thing? 

No side with the support of a battlemage had ever lost.

“Why?” Bond swallowed. Anyone else would call him a fool for being stubborn, for keeping on pressing. One shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that. But Bond didn’t do blind trust—he refused to. “We don’t know each other. There’s no reason for you to help me.”

The Battlemage looked a hair’s breadth away from rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Let me ask you this, then: what made you decide to seek out my help?”

“Because—” Briefly, Bond considered lying, but went against it in the end. “Because your reputation precedes you.”

The answer seemed to lend the Battlemage a gratified edge. “And the same goes for yours.” A fresh gust of wind blew, and Bond realized that the unnatural fire surrounding them was finally easing down to a manageable dwindle. “Besides, my weapons have never chosen wrong.”

The Battlemage extended a hand. “So, what do you say, O’ Lord Bond of Skyfall?”

His mind went blank, but somehow, Bond already knew what to do. As though right from the start, this had always been how it was meant to go.

Bond took the offered hand and felt the promised inevitability of it rest upon him undemanding, steadfast and strong.

He understood it now.

The outcome of the product would only ever be as good as the craftsman who created it.

“How should I address you?" he asked.

And the Battlemage smiled. "You can call me Q."

#my writing #00q #teambondvillains #007 fest #007 fest 2020 #watch me as i bs my way through this #we're ending this here bc it got long #maybe i'll continue this if people are interested??? #i have more ideas but oh well lmao #this is a good place to stop as any

[eleven-times-lively]

Eternal Love - 1

Summary: Love by fate, connection at heart, soul despite sight. Cedric x blind!OC  Word Count: 1879 Note: Omg it feels amazing to be writing again! This is a fantastic miniseries so buckle up and follow along! Also I’m not doing taglists anymore. 💕

Soft, gentle humming filled the otherwise gloomy air. “This way,” she whispered to the space around her, continuing onward. To anyone else the sight would have been a deterrent, but for her it was no issue. 

The sky was black and thunder cracked just above the clouds. A storm was circling overhead, both of clouds and blood. She navigated the hills and crevices of the decrepit graveyard with ease, pushed by an invisible force

“Cedric, no!” 

Her head whipped around trying to find the source of the noise.

The whisper in her ear told her to crouch down, stay hidden for now. She did exactly that, not quite knowing what she was hiding from or why. A flurry of commotion ensued. Spells were thrown about, blasts and powerful forces firing off from every direction. After a surprisingly short time, she felt compelled to stand again, thanking the spirits for making her hide in the first place.

She stepped around the grave behind which she had been hiding, and remained silent to examine the scene. She heard a light choking from somewhere nearby, almost as if drowned out by gasps for life. Her invisible guide brought her to the source, which was immediately silenced by her presence.

“Please,” the voice pleaded. She stepped back for a moment, not expecting the voice to sound so deep and rugged, yet… knowing. 

“Is it safe?” She murmured, though more to herself than anything. She pondered before nodding, once again taking a step forward. “Do you need help?” Her melodic voice her on injured ears, dropping the jaw of the injured boy before her.

“Please,” he once again choked out. She reached out an arm, allowing him to grab on and help himself to his feet. “Please… I-”

“I know,” she interrupted, placing a gentle hand on his arm. She shut her eyes, muttering to herself before a globe of light encircled them, transporting them away from the desolate sight.

***

The warm cottage was a welcome change from the battlesight. With a flick of her wrist, a fire was lit and the hearth was aglow. She helped the boy over to her single chair in the corner, examining him with a cautious eye. 

“You have seen much trouble,” she murmured. “Be still.” Before the boy had time to protest, small flecks of light infiltrated the space around him, shrouding him in brightness. 

A small, shrill sound erupted from the boy's mouth before all went quiet. The light died down, and left was a boy no longer covered in blood, but in fear. “What are you?” He whispered, trying but ultimately unable to back away from the girl before him.

“Do not fear, friend. I am here to help.” She took his hand, an empty stare cast deep into his widened eyes. “What is your name?”

“Cedric.” The sound came out as barely more than a whisper.

“Cedric,” she repeated, feeling the words in her mouth. “I’m Li.”

“Who are you?” His pupils were still blown wide, knuckles turning white as he gripped onto the chair.

“A friend,” she told him again. She took a step forward, tripping over his outstretched leg. She would have caught herself, but not before Cedric’s large arms did it for her.

“Woah there,” he chuckled, studying her face. “Are you okay?”

“Heavens,” she muttered. “Thanks for that.” Speaking to an invisible force, she nodded curtly at Cedric and walked away. 

Li returned with the tea, walking slowly as she was wary of any more stray limbs. “Oolong tea, it will calm you.”

“Thanks…” Cedric was hesitant to take the cup, but did nevertheless. “Now can you explain all of this?” He gestured around vaguely.

“Very well.” She sat in the chair opposite him. “My name is Li, and I am one with the spirits of the forest.” She stopped speaking, seemingly at the end of her rather short oration.

“That’s it?” He nearly chuckled. “You can’t be more than my age, why don’t I know you?”

“Hogwarts did not want my type of magic, and without parents I could not travel to another school. No one else was willing to help me.”

“Help you?”

“Well I am blind.”

Cedric said nothing, his mouth forming a small O. “And you keep talking to nothing?”

Her mouth upturned slightly. “Not nothing, the spirits. I can connect with the spirits held deep within the forest. They are my friends. My guides. That’s how I found you.” 

His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Hogwarts didn’t want you? You don’t have parents?”

“I suppose I’m doing well for myself.” She smiled weakly, pausing for a moment. “When will you go back?”

“To Hogwarts?”

She nodded. “Well Harry thinks I’m dead doesn’t he?”

She nodded again.

“I think I need to heal first, after that I’m not sure. May I stay here?”

“Absolutely. Come, let me show you the spare room.”

*** 

Cedric rose the next morning to the smell of breakfast and fresh tea. He crept down the stairs, but was sure to make enough noise as to not startle Li.

“Hello, Cedric.”

It was, in fact, Cedric who was startled. “You knew I was down here.”

“Again, dear, the spirits tell me everything. That and you aren’t exactly light on your feet.” Cedric blushed a bit before ducking down by the kitchen table. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fantastic, actually,” he smirked a bit, “was something in the tea?”

“Just a bit of lavender and a healing blend. Nothing bad.” He nodded, impressed and amused. “Breakfast.” She set the plate down in front of him.

“Thank you so much.” He immediately began taking forkfuls of food. “Are you going to eat.”

“Cedric I rise with the sun. I ate breakfast hours ago.” She smiled softly, taking the remaining seat at the table.

“Oh.” He blushed once again. “So these spirits,” he began after a moment, “can you… see them.”

“Well,” she stifled a giggle, “not in the traditional sense, no. I can’t see them as one would expect, but I have sense of them. I have a much deeper connection that transcends sight or even communication. It is as if we are one.”

“Huh,” Cedric chewed as he tried to process. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he wasn’t yet convinced that this wasn’t some fever dream while he was in a coma at St. Mungos.

“How are you feeling today?” Li interrupted his thoughts.

“Fine I guess.” He pondered for a moment. “I mean, you did heal everything. I think I’m still having a bit of trouble processing what happened.”

“Me too,” she confessed. “I arrived at the end of the ordeal, and naturally I couldn’t see anything.

Cedric nodded, contemplating. “How much do you know about the wizarding world right now, Li?”

“More than you would think.”

“Then I have some things to share with you.”

“Very well,” she stood from the table. “Finish getting yourself ready. I will show you my forest.”

***

Cedric found Li outside in her front garden later that morning. 

“There you are!” She exclaimed. It was the most emotion Cedric had heard from her. “Come on. I can’t wait to show you my home.”

They walked a while in silence, weaving through pathways and bushes. At one point, Li tripped over a root. Cedric happened to swoop an arm around her just in time.

“That, um, wasn’t there yesterday.”

“It’s alright,” Cedric chuckled, still holding on. He realized his error and quickly let go, stiffly clearing his throat. 

Li froze for a moment, a soft blush spreading across her lightly freckled cheeks. She brushed her stray black hair out of her face and continued walking. “So what was it that you needed to tell me?” She broke the awkward silence and palpable tension. 

“Right.” He stiffened, suddenly remembering he had a purpose. “What do you know of the dark lord.”

She froze immediately, sharply turning on his heel. “Say no more Cedric,” her voice rose slightly. “His presence shall not be invoked. I know enough and that is perfectly fine with me.”

He took a deep breath in, unsure of how to proceed. “He’s back.”

A single tear fell from Li’s eye as her face twisted into a sour grimace. “I knew this day would come,” she whispered. 

“My apologies, but… what?”

“Back to the cottage,” she hastily looked around, “now.”

“Care to explain?” Cedric was bewildered as Li locked the door and forced him into a chair.

“Cedric, the dark lord is responsible for the death or my parents and sister.”

Cedric's eyes widened, mouth forming a small circle. “I’m so sorry, Li… I-”

“It’s fine, Save your apologies. That was nearly sixteen years ago. I know enough that I know that with the dark lord back we are all in danger.”

Cedric’s lips pressed into a thin line. He knew. “What do we do?”

“Hide.”

***

The pair hid for about three weeks. Seemingly waiting for the day when Voldemort himself would show up at the cottage door to kill them both. They grew closer in this time. Li began to trust the strange outside energy that came into his life, and Cedric finally felt true warmth from the spunk and prim girl that had saved his life. Deeper feelings lie within them both, and they were beginning to bloom.

They were seated closely on the couch one afternoon when Cedric decided to bring up the topic that neither of them had brought up in nearly ten days. “Have you heard anything?”

“No.” Li responded coldly, gaze still fixed on the wooden wall. “Well…”

Cedric stiffened. “Well what, Li?”

“He’s coming for Hogwarts.”

Cedric shot up. “And you didn’t think to tell me!? I need to go help!”

Li turned to face him, a tear falling from her eye. “I know,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, “but I didn’t want you to leave.”

His face immediately softened. “Li…” He struggled a moment with what to say. “You know I have to go.” He was in so much pain having to say it. He had never seen Li cry, and he hated every second of it. “It’s okay…” He got back onto the couch, holding her shaking body in his arms. 

They stayed like that for a while, Li trying to choke back her tears and Cedric nearly crying along with her. Truth be told, Cedric didn’t want to leave either. “Come with me,” he whispered, partially hoping that maybe she wouldn’t hear him.

“What?” She choked out between sobs. 

“Come with me. Back to Hogwarts.”

“Cedric you know I can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“I-” She hesitated.

“Exactly. You may not have traditional magic, but you’re so powerful. You could help so much… and I’d love to have you at my side.”

“I’m blind Cedric. How much of an asset could I really be?”

“A lot. Need I remind you of your spirits.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, knowing he was correct. “This is a massive risk.”

“I know. And I wouldn’t have even said it if I didn’t trust you with my entire heart. He placed a small kiss on her forehead. “Take some time. We can go in the morning if you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

***

Part 2

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory x oc #blind reader #cedric diggory x blind!reader #spiritual #eternal love

[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt.7

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1 Part 6 Part 7 (HERE) Part 8

This is out earlier than expected because my procrastination sucks ass

____________________________________________

The battle was fascinating to watch, to say the least. The team worked together like a well-oiled machine, making their acrobatic plan flawlessly after Marinette called for her ‘Lucky Charm’ and used the white paint she received along with Ryoko’s water powers to break the connection The Queen of Hearts had with her guards. This gave Abeille the chance to sneak in dive in and freeze her with her venom sting as Chat grabbed her bracelet and turned it to dust.  Viperion seemed to not have an outright offensive move associated with him, but his time travel ability seemed infallible as he effortlessly redirected his teammates around attacks yet to come. 

The Bats were left watching with respect as Ladybug caught the dark purple butterfly in her yoyo. From the second she had left them on the roof to when she tossed the paint can in the air, allowing her magic to fix all the damage done by the fight, only fifteen minutes had passed. 

The five heroes grinned at each other, fist-bumping with a chorus of “Pound it!” before Chat and Abeille went up to the woman in her early 30s that had been the victim of the fight, and the other three turned to take off, Ladybug making a clear path back to the hotel, with the Bats on her heels. 

They passed through the window they had left not long before just in time for Ladybug to flash bright pink once more. Tim flinched slightly as her number reappeared and slowly fell back to her normal 15. Alfred looked up from the chair where he was reading. 

“Welcome back, Shall I call for refreshments?” He asked, placing the book down. 

“Yes please,” Dick answered, “I feel like we’re going to be here for a while. 

“Of course,” He hummed standing up to go to the phone, “Aw and Miss. Marinette, what food does your Kwami favor?” 

The young girl jumped, eyes wide, “What!” 

“Your Kwami, I saw the battle on the news, and assumed your Kwami will be famished after that much magic being used.”

“I don’t-” 

A small red fairy-like creature flew out from Marinette’s jacket. 

“It’s okay, Marinette,” The creature reassured before turning to the men in the room, “Hello I’m Tikki! I’m glad to finally meet all of you.” 

Alfred’s face became unbelievably soft as he held out his index finger to the small creature, “Hello Madam Tikki, it’s lovely to meet you as well. What can I get for you?”  

She giggled as she shook the offered finger, “No need to be so formal with me, Alfred, but I’m partial to cookies if you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all, Tikki,” He said before striding over to the room’s phone, raising an eye at the still costumed Bats, “I would suggest getting dressed in something more appropriate before room service arrives gentlemen.” 

“You dropped her title,” Jason countered instead of moving to change, “You never drop titles when asked!” 

Alfred let out an amused huff, “Arguing with Kwamis over respect is a futile endeavor. Now do not make me tell you again. This is a conversation best suited for the Waynes, not the Bats.”  

The Bats ducked into one of the adjoining bedrooms, as Marinette just blinked in surprise at the exchange. 

“You’ve had experience with the miraculous before?” She asked as he hung up the phone, Tikki settling in her hair. 

“I do,” He confirmed, “For several years I was a hero known as Emrys with the help of a very good friend named Duusu.” 

Tikki gasped, “You’re a peachick.” 

Alfred’s eyes misted slightly, “Yes, and I must admit I never thought I would be able to converse with another Kwami after losing the peacock brooch. I was devastated to hear that the butterfly had fallen into the wrong hands,” 

Marinette was biting her lip as the Bats reentered the room, now in their civilian clothing. 

Damian raised an eyebrow, “Is everything okay, Angel?” 

“I just…” She looked at all of them, “This is a lot, how did we get here?” 

The room glanced at Tim as he sighed and stepped forward and began his explanation once more. 

Marinette took the information on how his powers worked really well, humming at certain parts as she looked deep in thought. Tikki was looking at him strangely, by the time that he had finished. 

“You’ve been able to do this since you were born?” She questioned lightly, nibbling on one of the cookies that had arrived during his explanation. 

He gave a nod, “As far as I’m aware. Why?” 

The Kwami shook her head, “Just making sure.” 

“Well that’s cryptic,” Jason drawled from where he was laying on the floor. 

Marinette giggled, “Welcome to Kwamis, they give the most helpful cryptic insight you could ask for.” 

Tikki stuck her tongue out at her user before both broke down into giggles. 

Tim looked between them before finally asking, “Do you know the other Paris’ heroes secret identities?” 

Marinette cocked her head, sitting up slightly from where she was snuggled under Damian’s arm, “All but Chat Noir’s, as when I took over the Guardian position I was the one that had to pick those that would receive the Miraculous. I’m guessing your powers gave them away?” 

He gave a sheepish shrug, “It’s kinda hard to see a 12, 13, 14, or 15 over someone’s head and not put together their identities. Viperion is the only one I don’t know because I didn’t see him out of his mask.” 

Dick raised a brow from his upside-down seat on the couch, “Was that why you were so weird at the school?” 

“There were six people with 12s or higher,” He snapped, “And that creepy chick that called Damian ‘Dami-Bear’ was a 9.” 

Jason gave a low whistle, “Damn, that’s a lot.” 

Marinette looked surprised, “Six? But there’s only five miraculous out permanently on our side…” 

“Yeah about that,” Tim said, “I’ve seen other users online, have Max or Kim from your class ever held a miraculous?” 

“How did…”

“It’s rare to see people with the exact same shade of a color, even less so when they have the same number,” He explained, knowing his family was hanging onto his every word, “And yet Kim and Max both had a pure white 12, the exact same pure white 12 as Alfred. I think the miraculous might permanently affect the user’s danger level.” 

“You only asked about Kim and Max,” Marinette put in, “But Alya and Nino also held miraculous before, what were their numbers.” 

“Alya was the girl that started recording right? And who was Nino.” 

“Yeah, and Nino was the boy with the bright blue headphones around his neck, red cap, and glasses.” 

“She had an obnoxious orange 5, and He had a mossy green 4.”

“Why wouldn’t they have 12s then…” 

Tikki was the one to answer, “Alya and Nino weren’t true holders, but Max and Kim are both true holders so I imagine that would affect Tim’s powers.” 

All eyes fell on the small goddess. 

“True holder?” Marinette asked. 

She gave a small nod, “The Kwamis are much older than the human race and the miraculous, but when we began using humans to regulate our powers each Kwami blessed a handful of souls. As they go through the reincarnation cycle we can find our true users, who will always be more intuned with our powers than anyone else that could use our miraculous and our true users usually showcase abilities that go along with the concept the Kwami represents. After a true holder transforms for the first time Kwami’s can feel them, and recognize them as one of the blessed souls, though we don’t know what Kwami blessed their souls on that feeling alone.”

“So the 12s  saw were true users that don’t have their miraculous,” Tim summed up. 

“Most likely,” Tikki confirmed, “The others would be the ones that still hold their miraculous.” 

The conversation goes on for a while as Marinette asks questions of Tim and he asks them right back. The rest of the family remaining silent as they soak in the information, all making mental notes on where to go next. 

Bruce finally claps his hands startling the pair out of the intense debate they had gotten over whether his ability could be used to detect a potential Akuma victim before an Akuma got to them or not as the sunset. 

“As insightful this discussion is,” He comments, “I believe it is time that we contact the rest of the League and make a plan on how to out Hawkmoth.” 

“We should change and head for WE,” Damian suggested, “No one would be on the executive floor at this time so we can do a conference call without risk of being disturbed.” 

When Bruce gave a nod all the Bats rose and headed to the bedroom. 

“Before we call the league,” Marinette said quietly making them pause, “I need to do two things.” 

Bruce nodded, waiting for her to continue, her city, her rules.

“Firstly I want to call my team, they should be there when we contact the league,” She said, turning towards Tim, “I would also like to inform them that you know who most of them are, and how you figured it out since it’s their secrets.”

“I’m willing to share with them,” He told her, “It’s only fair that they know the facts before we form.” 

“Thank you,” She breathed. 

“Now what else did you want to do?” Jason asked.  

“Alfred,” She turned to the butler, “There’s something you should know about who we’re fighting.”  

“Nooroo and his user?” He questioned with a raised brow. 

She shook her head, “No, Hawkmoth may have been there from the start but a little less than a year into the fight another miraculous user joined him. Mayura and…  her Sentimonsters.” 

His strangled gasp sent a stab of pain through all the hearts in the room, “Not Duusu…” 

She gave a grim nod, “Mayura is the current holder of the peacock miraculous. Though at first, her appearances were few and far between due to the brooch being damaged, they learned how to repair the damage shortly after I became Guardian allowing for her to make more regular appearances.”  

None of the Wayne’s had ever seen Alfred look so pale, so worn out, so… old.

Bruce wrapped an arm around the butler’s waist pulling him towards the couch, making him sit gently. 

“It’s okay, Alfie,” Bruce breathed as the others remained silent. Alfred was shaking slightly, unable to find his voice as he slowly held out a hand. Bruce clasped it tightly, sitting with the man that raised him in reassuring silence.  

“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s voice was quiet as he continued to stare at their clasped hands, “I don’t normally ask anything of you except for you and the young masters to stay safe, but if I might make a request?” 

“Anything, Alfred,” The man answered without a second of hesitation. 

“Find Hawkmoth and Mayura and free Nooroo and Duusu as quickly as possible. Rescue them, please, no matter what it takes.”  

“I promise,” 

Alfred finally raised his eyes, a hard steely gaze flashing over his ward’s face, “Go.” 

Bruce was on his feet and in the bedroom ready to change within a second, his sons not far behind him. 

“I’m sorry Alfred,” Mari breathed only to be rewarded a shaky smile. 

“It’s not your fault, Marinette,” He reassured, professional mask struggling to raise, “I believe it is time to call your team.” 

“Tikki, spots on.” 

____________________________________________

Thirty minutes later Ladybug found herself staring at her whole team in the art room of her school with the blackout curtains pulled tight over the windows, able to feel their buzzing energy overflowing the room.  

Abeille was looking at her imploringly, knowing slightly what the meeting was about, but the fact that Ladybug had contacted not just the regular team, but the reserve members, Pegasus, King Monkey, and Bunnyx, as well had them all on edge. 

“Is everything okay, bugaboo?” Chat finally broke through the nerves to ask. 

She nodded slightly, taking a deep breath, “Earlier today before the Akuma, Abeille came across two foreign heroes.” 

The rooftop stilled, eyes wide. 

“Who was here,” Vipieion asked first. 

Ladybug gave them all reassuring smiles, “Nightwing and Red Robin, and after making contact with Abeille, I met with the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin. They wanted to offer their help.” 

“They finally answered!” Chat cheered causing the gathered heroes to break out in celebration, even Ladybug couldn’t stop a grin from spreading her lips.

Finally indeed. Three days after Stoneheart the original duo had tried to contact the Justice League, and then again a month later, and again, and again...

A year and a half into the fight against Hawkmoth they finally got a response, telling them the contact was for real emergencies, not for pranks. The response wasn’t even signed past the official Justice League seal. 

For League associated heroes to be here in Paris, and willing to talk, it filled them all with the hope that the fight wasn’t going to last forever. 

Ladybug let them enjoy the feeling for a few minutes before she called them back to order. The bright smiles pointed at her made the nervous twist in her stomach lessen slightly even as she readied herself for the next announcement. 

“Before we met up with the League and determining a game plan, I think it is only fair to have us all on the same page,” She told them, “After speaking with the Gotham heroes they informed me that they figured out not only my civilian identity but, Chat Noir, Ryuko and Abielle’s as well.” 

“What!” Bunnyx roared, “How dare they! The sneak sons of-” 

“Stop!” Ladybug cut her off with a glare, “They did not go digging into our backgrounds to figure it out, and while they will explain in more depth when we go meet them, I can tell you that they discovered our identities because Red Robin is a Metahuman with an ability he can’t physically turn off, it was the same way he figured out who Batman and other heroes were long before he was Robin, and he’s never given away an identity without express permission.” 

The room quieted down but still looked uneasy, She just sighed. 

“That brings me to the next point. With the League finally answering us, I think we need to not waste the opportunity. If we’re going to finish this, we need to use every advantage we have against Hawkmoth and Mayura, which means we need to be able to work at all hours of the day.” 

The room was silent as all the heroes tried to decide where she was going with this, but she just stared at her partner. 

Chat maintained her eye contact, and she could see the exact second he put together what she was saying. 

“Ladybug,” He spoke slowly, “Are you serious?” 

She gave a nod, “I’ve spoken with my Kwami and I’ve decided that if all of you are comfortable with it, I think we should tell each other our identities.” 

____________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum​ @rougemme​ @dur55​ @phantommeow12 @kand-roo​ @silvergold-swirl​ @officiallyathiana​ @completelypeccable​ @redhoodsdoll​ @nataladriana9​ @mariae2900​ @northernbluetongue​ @sturchling​ @thesunanditsangel​ @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo​ @bobothyross @taoiichii​ @magnitude101999​ @magicalfirebird​ @nataladriana9​ @panda3506​ @aquariusrunes​ @woodland-queer @sayarock121​ @mindfulmagics​ @magic-miraculous​ @my-name-is-michell @naoryllis @slytherinqueen2432

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #Tim Drake #meta!tim #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Alfred was a miraculous holder and you can't change my mind #chloe bourgeois #Adrian agreste #Kagami Tsurugi #luka couffaine #miraculous team

[carewyncromwell]

“Good evening, all -- I hope the start of December and the holiday season finds you in good spirits...

“In light of this occasion, my...‘mundane,’ as she calls herself, has given me special access to this ‘Askbox,’ so that I may converse with, debate, and maybe even educate her ‘followers’ on aspects of this lovely season...I suspect because she -- having appointed herself some sort of guardianship over me -- knows that Christmas is my single favorite time of the year. She says that you may consult the tag ‘Bat Comments on Christmas!’ for more such content.”

I don’t understand half of the terms she’s used about this whole thing, but I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it soon enough. I’ve got more than enough time to figure it all out...

“Today we start with a marvelous history lesson on a most exciting tale -- the time that Christmas was actually banned in England.

“From the beginning, Christmas has been a holiday split in two, expressed in both religious and secular traditions. As I’ve mentioned previously, the Christian church’s ‘Christ Mass’, meant to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, swallowed up a lot of traditions from older pagan holidays like the Roman Saturnalia and the Celtic and Germanic Yule, in an attempt to get people to celebrate their savior, rather than other gods. The Church knew that just putting their holiday on the calendar alone wouldn’t be enough to persuade people to celebrate it, so Christians tried everything they could to try to ‘adapt’ the old traditions to suit their needs. From the start, though, the peasantry really didn’t cooperate with this -- they were fine with calling the holiday ‘Christmas,’ instead of something else, but they were going to have the same amount of fun as they always had. And so Christmas over the years remained bawdy, chaotic, loud, profane, and distinctly unlike the traditional, pious image Christian churches had wanted to promote.

“Eventually it got to the point that many Christian institutions tried to distance themselves from Christmas all together. Up until recently -- namely, the 20th century -- Christmas was actually considered a lesser religious holiday, with Epiphany, the holiday representing Christ’s baptism, being treated as the more important celebration. Some branches of Christianity -- including a very rigid, conservative type of Protestantism called Puritanism -- even believed that Christmas was sacrilegious. The Puritans took the Bible so seriously that they read every word literally and believed anything that wasn’t explicitly written down in it was non-canonical and should be discarded all-together. In the mid-1600′s, the Puritans amazingly managed to accrue enough power in the English Parliament to make legislation, and one of the very first things they did was -- you guessed it -- ban the feast of Christmas.

“For those of you who, like my mundane, are American, you may have heard the story about the British forces led by General Cornwallis playing the song ‘The World Turned Upside Down’ on the fife and drum upon surrendering to George Washington’s militia at Yorktown. Although I cannot confirm or deny this particular factoid, not having been present for the actual surrender myself, I personally agree with most historians in that it’s likely to have been a myth propagated by the Americans later. I must acknowledge, though, that if it were true, it would be a rather amusing choice for our troops to have played in the direction of the rebels -- for the tune itself is actually a protest song, all about when England’s Puritan-led Parliament made celebrating Christmas illegal. The words themselves express the English people’s opinions regarding the new law rather well --

“‘Command is given, we must obey, and quite forget old Christmas day: Kill a thousand men, or a Town regain, we will give thanks and praise amain! The wine pot shall clink, we will feast and drink, And then strange motions will abound. Yet let's be content, and the times lament -- you see, the world turned upside down!’

“ -- in short, ‘yes, we’ll follow the law and not call it Christmas, but we’re still going to go about doing all the old traditions anyway.’ You say we can’t sell Christmas pudding? All right, we’ll sell figgy pudding instead -- same recipe, different name. You say we can’t bake Christmas pies? All right, we’ll bake mince pies -- they taste just as good, no matter what you call them. And the more you complain, the more we’ll write and sing songs about how awful it is that you kept us from celebrating the birth of Christ. England overall was so unhappy about the new law that the King himself decided to reinstate Christmas, to quell their displeasure. And so in a huff, many Puritans decided to hightail it off to the colonies in America, in the hopes that they could create ‘a new Jerusalem’ that wouldn’t be infected with the scourge of Christmas.”

[Bat’s lips spread into a very broad, fanged grin.]

“To their credit, they partially succeeded -- at least until America saw how much fun we Brits were having and got besotted with Christmas themselves about two hundred years later.”

[The vampire bursts into handsome, joyful laughter.]

  ((OOC: Bat’s in control of the Askbox this holiday season! Feel free to tag me @carewyncromwell​ or send Asks regarding Christmas/other winter holiday topics, so that Bat can comment on them. I have allowed him access to the Fourth Wall, so you can also send him things that are not explicitly 18th-19th-early-20th century Christmas too, and he’ll be able to comment on them! ^.^))

#bat comments on christmas! #bartholomew varney #christmas #history #roleplaying #honestly this song is the most passive-aggressive thing I totally love it XDDD #and yeah it sounds NOTHING like the tune from hamilton #what the heck lin manuel? LOL

[i-put-the-sin-in-sinclaire]

Pillow Talk - A Desire And Decorum Drabble

I think It’s called a Drabble anyway 🤷‍♀️👀

Short - Around 558 Words If I Counted Right 😅✨

Soft, fluff, sweet

This takes place in chapter 1 of Desire And Decorum Book Three

Ernest Sinclaire X MC (Clara Mills)

I have replaced my characters name with the deafult MC Name “Miss Clara Mills”

Inspired by @princess-geek to write this due to a post she made including this picture! :)👇

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

The morning after what was meant to be Miss Mills and the now Mr Richards’ wedding....

Clara wakes up in her loves’ arms. The Sun starts to peak through the windows, everything is still and peaceful.

Ernest was still asleep, with one of his arms draped around his lover. After Clara had fully woken she remembered where she was, Tristan Richards Bath House. She smiled as she felt the new found freedom of never having to see the insufferable man again, and never having to be controlled or harassed by him again. It was freeing.

A few moments later her, now, fiancé begins to stir awake.

“Good Morning my love.” He smiles, still partially asleep.

“Good morning.” she smiles back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm, very well, and the company was even better.”

Clara sighs with contentment,

“We are finally free from the restrictions that a certain Mr Richards had once set.”

The gentleman spoke, now smiling,

“I don’t think I will ever tire from hearing his stripped title.”

Clara turned her head to see her fiancé,

“Though, there are still some things we aren’t allowed to do....” while she chuckles to herself, she looks to the floor where a pile of discarded clothes sits from the previous night. “I wish we could live together already” she comments “Then we can sleep in my chambers without you having to sneak out in the early hours every time.“

“Or having the new Mrs Marlcaster cover for us by distracting people while I hide somewhere” he jokes.

“Yes! And when we are finally married we will have more freedom with our actions!” She says excitedly.

“When we are married.” Ernest sighs happily while rolling to lie on to his back.

The countess sits up in the bed,

“Then I shall be Mrs Sinclaire,” she says dreamily, “and we can live together happily and in bliss.” she smiles, “Well, as happy as one can be with being under the same roof as my charming stepmother.... And Harry, who doesn’t seem too overly fond of me.” Ernest notices her change in expression.

“Don’t worry, I am sure he will come to understand you, everyone else likes you, and he will soon understand the reason why.”

“I hope you’re right.... I have you, and that is all I need.” she kisses the gentleman’s head. “Can we stay like this forever?” She sits up facing her love, hugging a pillow.

“I wish we could.” He responds.

Clara then begins to say,

“But the wedding will be but a few weeks away, at least. And then-“

Suddenly, a familiar voice rings out,

“Ahem.... Rise and shine, you two. The day’s wasting away.” The two jolt up, Clara flings the pillow that she was previously hugging, straight to Ernest to try and hide him. Briar stands at the doorway, shaking her head.

“Briar! I, um....” Clara quickly replies, while turning redder and redder.

“We were just....” Ernest follows on. Briar, now amused, smiles,

“Save your excuses for someone who’ll believe them. I know what you two got up to.... But, Mr Sinclaire, I’m due for my private time with my best friend.” He responds,

“If you insist.” a smile playing all over his face, Clara follows,

“We can continue this later....” He smiles coyly at the countess as he dresses then gives her a quick kiss goodbye.

———————————————————————

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this! This is my second ever fan fiction I have posted. 🥺👉👈✨

———————————————————————

Tags 🏷 @princess-geek - thank you for the support! 😊✨

@noesapphic - I tagged you this time! Sorry I forgot to do it last time! 😅😂

And some people who thought might want to be tagged - @missameliep @keviriass @tyrils-star @marlcasters sorry if I forgot anyone who might have wanted to be tagged, or sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged! 😅✨

#I get a bit nervous when I tag people so sorry If you didn’t want me to tag you or sorry if I forgot someone 😅😔 #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #desire and decorum #ernest x mc #clara mills #ernest sinclaire #mr sinclaire #dd pb

[capricornus-rex]

Old Friend, New Family (3)

Requested by: Anon | Prompt:

Hey I was wondering if you’d take a prompt where the reader is an ex-padawan who’s master died pretty early on in order 66, and was instead saved by a clone that removed his inhibitor chip. Then maybe they get separated, and years later when the reader is a crew member on the Mantis, they come across the clone again? How would the crew, especially Cal and Cere, react to meeting a friendly ex-soldier clone who’s close with the reader? Could you make it full of angst then fluff? Love your writing!

Tags: Defected! Clone Trooper, Jedi Survivor! Reader, Order 66 Survivor

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: Part 1 | Previous: Part 2 | Next: Part 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

CURRENT TIMELINE

In time, you found yourself alone… again.

In a short span of only two years, the guardian who said would have your back disappeared and never returned to you—and so you’ve entered a life truly on your own.

That is until you met Cal Kestis.

Three years ago, Cal was surprised to find another Jedi—who’s nearly in the same age as he is, no less. He found you in a street brawl against some Stormtroopers in Corellia, during a side trip to the planet. When he sensed that you were alone and on the run—as he did before—he offered you a place in the Mantis; seeing that there was nowhere else for you to go, not knowing where Strig could be or if he’ll ever come back, you got tired of waiting and being hopeless.

Strig, I’m sorry… but I will find you. I swear. You said in your mind as you took Cal’s offering hand.

That time when you were getting to know each other, you became fast friends. Ironically, your bond was formed over the fact that you’re both Jedi—finally, something the two of you can relate to. Your connection was strengthened by your stories of surviving the Purge, even though you’re probably worlds apart and were complete strangers to each other. It was another way of growth, as Cere saw it.

Little by little, throughout that time you’ve spent together, that connection evolved into more than friends as the Mantis hopped from one planet to the next. The two of you became open books to one another and your relationship became intimate.

“I’m glad you’re here, [y/n],” Cere opened up to you once during your stay in Bogano. “I don’t know if you realize it but you’ve taken care of Cal in more ways than one.”

“Sometimes I feel like he’s the one taking care of me!” you beamed, then shifted back to a somber tone. “I just know what it feels like to have lost everything. I think we all have gone through that one way or another.”

“I agree. For someone so young, you’re quite insightful,”

“My master often thought the same thing about me,”

A hint of sorrow laced the small smile on Cere’s face, “I’m sure he did.”

Eventually, your journey had brought you to the planet Zeffo. After that showdown with the AT-ST, you decided to take some time off before returning to the Mantis.

Once settled in, you’re almost afraid to close your eyes—afraid of the unknown that you’d see in the trance. Long have you struggled to prepare yourself once darkness loomed behind your eyes, often you did tell yourself that you’re ready but in reality are not, and you’re constantly plagued by loss, grief, death, and sorrow.

“Padawan, listen well, whatever happens… Survive!”

“Master…!”

“Come on, kid, there’s nothing left for us here. But you don’t have to be alone…”

The explosions, the ear-shattering whistles of the projectiles leaving the blasters’ barrels, and the shouts of the clones entered your one ear and exited the other; the sight of Master Zal Karos and his final moments when he was still alive, when you stood by his side against an army of unrelenting clones, was mind-numbing and made your head ache; and finally, the feeling of Strig’s friendly grip around your small hand brushed over your skin—you could feel the tattered padding of his gloves on your palm—and then you felt his touch on your back as he shepherded you out of the aftermath.

Your mind trapped in the persistent influence of your memories warped you to the town of Yezuf, in Ghidra—where you and Strig have made a home to flee from the Purge.

Fire blanketed the town and everyone was in an immense state of panic. Even though it was only a memory, the sensations felt real that it’s overwhelming: the harsh push of the crowd as you go against the flow felt like punches and jabs into your stomach, the heavy bodies shouldering past you made your arm twitch, and hands blindly digging in and bruising your skin as strangers held for support as they ran the other way.

“Everybody, this area is off-limits! Authorized officers are only allowed beyond this point!”

“Strig?! STRIG!!”

“Violators shall be apprehended! Hey you, kid! Get outta here!”

“No wait! I have someone there..! STRIG!!!”

“Strig…” you murmured.

The memories are still vivid in your mind, it’s as if they had only happened yesterday. Five years have passed since the Purge, and three for Strig’s unexplained disappearance when you were living in Ghidra. Most of the time, they invade your meditation, and yet you’re unable to open your eyes from it.

“Hey, [y/n],” Cal called from afar.

You open your eyes, the green grass beneath the pillars and stone’s throws fill your vision, and your head turns to Cal’s direction. He often finds you in the same spot at the windswept ruins. The young redhead scales the steps and joins you at the platform right before the tomb’s elevator.

“I know that look. Something troubling you?”

“It’s… getting difficult for me to focus on meditation lately,” you trail off and then dismiss the thought. “I’ll get over it.”

“Having trouble collecting your thoughts?”

“I suppose…” you trail off, staring at space in search of a word. “It’s nothing.”

Cal accompanied you in relishing the tranquility of this part of the planet. The two of you listened to the mountain breeze, the faint song of the ice and snow, and the shifting of the rocks beneath the surface—where the extravagant tombs rest. After that brief moment, he perked up and reached for his pouch behind his back.

“I got you something,”

“Oh, you did?”

Cal opens the flap to reveal a batch of bread that Greez made. When you took a bite, a dark red puree oozed out from the center.

“Are these…?”

“Strawberries!” Cal finished the question and answered it altogether. “I told Greez they’re your favorite. They liked it too back there.”

Your heart melted. The fact that you told Cal only once that strawberries were your favorite—but you didn’t expect him to remember that—made you all the more fuzzy inside. Cal may not know it, but he seems to find it quite easy to cheer you up—whether it’s making you smile or laugh, he always had a trick up his sleeve. You take bites of the bread, tilting your head back so the jam drops right into your mouth, and then swatting the crumbs off your face.

“The sky is so weird here,” you blurted.

“What made you say so?”

“Look, there’s always thunderclouds looming about, but no sign of rain—just cold wind,”

“Planets and their weather differ, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but compared to most planets I’ve been to back in the Clone Wars, the weather here is nicer.”

Amused in watching your curiosity and imagination run wild, Cal propped his cheek over his fist as he asked you more about the planets you’ve been to back in the day. In return, you made him promise to tell about his side of the story.

“Do you think our masters ever knew each other?” you bring up the topic out of the blue.

“What, you mean like, fought together until they had some Padawans tagging along with them?”

You giggled at Cal’s visualization, but still you nodded in reply, “I was thinking of something along the lines of just being in the same room but… Yes, something like that.”

“I’m sure they have, in one way or another,”

You gave an affirming nod and then silence followed. He noticed that you’ve stopped wolfing down on your favorite snack and just examined the last bite between your fingers. Cal decided that it was a good idea to steal the last bite off of your hands, he took the bread using his mouth and then took off.

“Hey!” you cried out.

“You weren’t eating it anymore!” his mouth was partially full, hopping through the grass as he spoke.

“Go get your own, you brought a bag of it!”

You chased after him and tackled him to the next lower tier. Like children, the pair of you burst out laughing and threw your backs flat on the bed of grass dotted with little purple flowers; Cal plucked one and gingerly placed it on your hair.

“Aww, look how pretty you are,” he cooed, stroking your cheek with the back of his hands.

You tossed to the side so you face each other, in turn, you’re now the one stroking his hair and dusting off shreds of grass at the same time and sprinkled petals on his hair too.

#cal kestis #cal kestis fic #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader fic #star wars #star wars fic #sw #sw fic #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi fallen order fic #defected! clone trooper #jedi survivor! reader #order 66 survivor #order 66 #jedi purge #clones #clone trooper #jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order fic #swjfo #sw jfo #swjfo fic #sw jfo fic #jfo #jfo fic #fic #fluff and angst #fluff #angst #fluff fic

[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 31: Some Assistance Required

Thursday after school, Ren was on an important mission. She headed down to Dr. Maruki’s office. She stood in front of the door. Morgana popped up. “Are you going in?” he asked.

“I was planning on it,” Ren answered. “But…”

“You’re still worried about what happened with Sumire, huh” Mrgana finished. Ren nodded. “Well, she said herself that Dr. Maruki was fine.”

“I know,” Ren said. She took a deep breath. She knocked.

Dr. Maruki answered. “Oh, are you here from yourself or for business?”

“The latter,” Ren answered.

“Well, either way, I appreciate it,” Maruki responded. “Come on in.” Maruki invited her in. They both took a seat.

“Do I need to be here?” Morgana asked.

“Where would you go?” Ren asked. “Besides I’m only here for metaverse stuff.”

“Hm. I was hoping you’d be ready to open up a little more” Maruki said. “But I suppose I should take what I can get. So, what is your question about the metaverse?”

Ren glanced at him. “I don’t know how deep your research went, so you might not even have the answer, but it’s better than nothing.” She got serious. “We found a new big target. However, their would be assassin has a peculiar trick up their sleeve.”

“Go on,” Maruki instructed.

“They’re in possession of this sort of ink where if it is slathered on the shadows, it takes one hit to destroy them” Ren continued. “I don’t want to bring my team into a fight like that. Venturing in and out of the metaverse is exhausting as is; to bring them into a one-sided fight like that... I couldn’t bear the thought.”

“I see,” Maruki said. He went into a deep thought. “Well you’re right in that I might not have as much in the way of specifics, but I still think I can help you.” Ren looked pleased. “First, I’m going to need to know more about the target, and why the other person targeting them might think it’s effective.”

“Well, I don’t want to give away too much,” Ren said. “But I will say our target is a very prominent figure, whom a lot of people adore. The person wishing to kill them wants to make it known that this person is rotten to the core.”

“I see,” Maruki replied. He thought some more. “You say it makes the shadows so weak that they cannot take even one hit?” Ren nodded. “In our research, we had brief interactions with these creatures. We didn’t learn much, however, in our limited interactions, we discovered that these shadows are disjointed.”

“Meaning?” Ren asked.

“I think he’s referring to how they gather around powerful pressences, like those with palaces” Morgana clarified.

“Precisely” Maruki pointed out. “They aren’t whole, if that makes sense. As powerful as they are, I think they’re at a disadvantage with that ink. From what you’ve described, I think this ink makes weaknesses more pronounced. A shadow doesn’t have any real strength, aside from its raw power. But you have the power of your Personas, which are an extension of yourselves. You are whole. So I don’t think that ink would do the same thing to you as it does those shadows.”

“Well that’s a relief” Morgana said.

“However, if at all possible, you should probably not get hit with it anyways” Maruki added. “I mean, it won’t kill you outright, but it will make you weaker.”

“I see,” Ren replied. She smiled. “Thanks doc.”

Before she could leave, Maruki shouted “Wait!” Ren sat back down. “Um, this might seem a bit sudden, but would it be possible to use our interactions for a paper I’m writing?”

Ren was curious. “Are you publishing something about the metaverse?”

“Well, no,” Maruki said. “But I am doing a study related to the strength of one’s heart, and I feel like the information I gather from you, as well as other students or faculty, would be great for that. Which reminds me, I’ve gotta talk to someone else about this.”

“But we’ve only talked about metaverse stuff today” Ren said, getting slightly more passive aggressive.

“Well, that might be true, I can’t help but get a little analytical, especially when I’m on the job,” Maruki explained. “So, I may have gathered some insight into you. Of course, I won’t write about you if you do not wish.”

Ren smirked. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Of course” Maruki answered. “I’m always serious about respecting my patients.”

“And yet you didn’t want to respect Sumire for who she really is?” Ren asked.

“Oh my” Maruki responded. “I figured you would still be upset about that.”

This didn’t help. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ren snapped.

“Woah” Morgana exclaimed.

“Heh heh. Sorry” Maruki apologized. “I figured provoking you in that moment would get me the best response.” Ren was not amused. “If I’m honest with you, it might make what I say next more believable for you. I really, truly, only wanted to help Sumire out the day she came to my office. She told you herself that she was hardly able to function, and who could blame her? Anyone in her shoes would not take what happened easily. I wanted to help her function again.”

“So why make her think she’s her sister?” Ren asked.

“Well, that’s confidential,” Maruki answered. “I can’t tell you anything about a meeting without consent.”

“Hey” Morgana said, getting Ren’s attention. “Do you think maybe it has something to do with what we saw before her awakening?”

Ren thought about it. They witnessed what Sumire had witnessed the day Kasumi died. They also heard Sumire’s thought. Her self-doubt and her jealousy of her sister. Ren also thought about her previous interactions with Sumire. I guess I can see her wanting to act more like her sister.

“Based on the information given, I suggested she start thinking like her sister,” Maruki explained further. “Of course, you broke her out of that, which also makes me curious about you. What is it about you that shook her out of it?”

Ren was confused. “What makes you think I would know the answer to that?”

“I guess that’s true,” Maruki said. He laughed.

Ren looked at him. “You are very peculiar, you know that?”

“I do,” Maruki said. “You’re not the first, and you probably won’t even be the last to say that.” He cleaned his glasses. “Now, do you want to know what I know about you?”

Ren was a bit hesitant, but she did want to know. “Very well.”

“Hm” Maruki cocked a grin. “Well, before getting to know you formally, I was made aware of your arrest record. People told me to be cautious around you.” Ren got a little frustrated. “But after meeting you, I feel like you’re kind, understanding, and selfless. You’re fairly smart, and aren’t afraid to be yourself. Which does call into question your arrest. I don’t think someone like you gets arrested without a good reason. So, would you mind telling me about how you got arrested?” Ren hesitated. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Ren looked at Maruki. Well, he’s independent from the school, so he might actually believe me as well. Plus he already knows about me being a Phantom Thief. I doubt this would actually do much. She sighed. “Very well. One night, I was on my way home when I overheard some commotion. A man was trying to force a woman into his car. I stepped between them and he fell over. He blamed me and said I hit him. When the police came, they believed him and he had me arrested.”

Maruki was stunned. “My. The audacity of some people, huh.” Ren was a bit surprised by this. “I’m sorry, but I’m human too. And as good as I am at identifying what makes people tick, it does not make me immune from getting ticked as well.”

Ren reflected on what he just said. “And I guess that means you’re also human enough to make some rash decisions.”

“Exactly” Maruki said. “I knew you were smart. Ah. Sorry. I did it again.”

“It’s… alright…” Ren said. “You know, you’re actually really good.”

“Well, I try” Maruki said.

Ren sighed. “Here I am, trying to deal with many complicated things, while still being unable to really figure myself out. And yet you seem to have me down pat, despite only conversing with me twice.”

“Hm” Mruki said. “Well, I’m sure you know more about yourself than you might think. I doubt you’d have a Persona otherwise. And I think your other friends might know you well too. But I will always be here to help if you want it.”

Ren smiled. “I like the sound of that. And I guess you can use whatever you can glean from our conversations for research. Just don't give me away if you go and publish anything.”

“Duly noted,” Maruki said. “I can also teach you how to fortify yourselves better in the metaverse as well. Ah, in fact, I have something that will help right now.” He fished around through his papers. “Here” he said, handing it to Ren.

She looked it over. “Really?”

Maruki nodded. “Think of it as a thank you for helping me out. As well as a thank you for understanding that I mean no real harm.”

Ren put it in her bag. She sighed. “To be honest, I’ve been wanting something like this, but I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. So, would you mind if we met again?”

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” Maruki said with a smile.

Ren giggled. “Thanks.”

I am thou... Thou art I… Thou hast acquired a new vow...

It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.

With the birth of the Councilor Persona I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power.

Councilor-Takato Maruki-Rank 1

“Oh, um, if I need to contact you about metaverse stuff in the future, it might be easier to do it via phone” Ren said. “You can give me a heads up on availability and stuff.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Maruki said. He and Ren exchanged contact info. After that, Ren left the room.

While she was on her way to the subway, Morgana popped up. “So, I’m a little confused about what just happened there,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Ren asked.

“Well, it’s not often that I see you go through so many emotions and yet still come out of it feeling fine” Morgana explained. “You were so distrustful of Maruki when you entered, but you trusted him by the end of it. Why is that?”

Ren stopped. “Partially because I probably need something like that.”

“But you have us,” Morgana said. “He even said we might know you better.”

“Which is another reason I kind of turned around on him,” Ren explained. Morgana was perplexed. “He was incredibly open and honest. He easily admitted his faults and made his intentions known throughout the process. The people I tend to keep at arm’s length are dishonest, or at least won’t tell me things.”

“Huh” Morgana thought. “I guess that makes sense. Everyone I know who you’re close with seems like they’re willing to be themselves with you.”

“Yeah,” Ren said. “I guess they are.”

Ren got a message on her phone.

Dr. Maruki: Oh, by the way.

Dr. Maruki: I know you say you have a big target lined up already.

Dr. Maruki: But if you’re looking for a smaller target as well, I have information.

Dr. Maruki: Recently, an old man has been causing all sorts of mischief in Kichijoji.

Dr. Maruki: Whenever he gets caught, he says he’s either lost or confused, and people let him off with a warning.

Dr. Maruki: But people in the area say he’s doing it on purpose.

Dr. Maruki: I don’t know if you go after that kind of thing, but I figured I’d share it with you.

Ren messaged back.

Ren: What’s his name?

Dr. Maruki: I guess you would need to know that.

Dr. Maruki: The person I heard this from says his name is Heiji Ono.

Dr. Maruki: Be careful. I feel like there may be more to this than he’s letting on.

Ren: Thank you. I will take this up with my team.

“Huh” Morgana said. “That was unusual.”

“But it’s the kind of thing we need, don’t you agree?” Ren asked.

“Yeah,” Morgana said.

Ren got another message on her phone.

Mishima: Hey, can we meet tonight?

Mishima: I have a surprise.

Mishima: Also, I want to talk about the Phansite a bit.

Ren: Sounds like a plan.

Mishima: Great! See you on Central Street!

Later that night, Ren caught up with Mishima. “Hey Mishima,” Ren said.

“Oh hi,” Mishima said.

Ren finished walking up to him. “So, what’s this surprise?”

“Get this” Mishima said, excitedly “I got us each a DATE!”

“What?” said Ren, panicking.

“Yeah” Mishima continued. “I found them on the Phansite. This one girl said she was lonely, and this guy said he recently got dumped. So I decided to help them out and offered a double date to the two of them. Oh, but they just think we’re ordinary people. They don’t know I run the site, let alone that you’re a Phantom Thief.”

“Well, that’s good at least…” Ren said. “But what made you decide to do this?”

“Well, they needed help,” Mishima said. “But I don’t think changing hearts to make them happier is exactly ethical. So I offered this up.”

“Well… you know that at least…” Ren said.

“Don’t worry,” Mishima said. “I did some check on them. They’re both fine people. And I will also admit, the guy is incredibly handsome.”

“...Thanks?” Ren said, sweating bullets.

“Don’t worry, we have an ice breaker,” Mishima said. “We came into contact on the Phansite. We can talk about our adoration for the Phantom Thieves.”

“Yay” Ren said. She was dying inside.

Suddenly, Mishima got a call. “Huh? … Oh hey!” He put his hand over the speaker. “It’s the girl.” He went back to the phone. “How’s it going? Are you almost there yet? … Huh? ...Oh! Well that’s neat. … I see … Huh. No no, that’s great. … Right, well see you on the forums then.” He hung up and sighed.

“What was that about?” Ren asked.

Mishima smiled. “It turns out that on their way to meet us, our two dates met up with each other. They clicked right away, and are now going on a date with each other. Crazy how that worked out, right?” Ren sighed. “Wait, what was that for? Do you not trust me on this?”

“Well, in all honesty, no,” Ren said. “Although, I don’t really trust too many people to set me up with someone. I’ve gotten severely burned before.”

Mishima was concerned. “What happened?”

“Well, someone said they would get me a date…” Ren said. She remembered an incident at her old school where someone said that this one girl also liked girls, and would date her, but what ended up happening was a mean trick where she was actually outed, some dudes tried “turning” her, and in the end, she lost some of her friends. “But it turned into a huge public shaming where they embarrassed me. So yeah, I don’t really like getting set up with anyone.”

Mishima got made. “Man, fuck whoever did that to you! You’re a good person! You didn’t deserve that!”

Ren smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “Besides, I’m kind of interested in someone currently.” Even if she isn’t interested in me.

“I getcha, I getcha,” Mishima said. “So that’s a no on any further dates, huh.” Mishima seemed sad. “And she was so cute too…”

Ren looked at him, “Well, you could still try.”

“On my own?!” Mishima said. “I couldn’t. I’d get too nervous.”

“Mishima, look at me” Ren said. “You can do this.”

Mishima looked at Ren and got pumped. “Heh. You’re right! I CAN do this!” He pointed to Ren. “And you can get the guy you’re interested in! I know it for sure!”

Well, he doesn’t know. “Yeah…” Ren said.

“So, that’s a ‘no’ on getting dates for you,” Mishima said. “But what about anything else the Phansite can provide?”

“Hmmm” Ren thought. “Well, to be honest, I’m not sure. Maybe just start running things by me before you jump head first into whatever you’re thinking.”

“Ohhhhh” Mishima said. “That’s an excellent idea. Heh heh. I will.” His stomach growled. “Oh, um, would you like to grab something to eat anyways?”

“I’d like that,” Ren said. The two of them ate at the diner.

“Ah, that was great,” Mishima said.

“I’ll say,” Ren said.

“Hey,” Mishima said. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight. It didn’t go like how I imagined it would, but I think it worked out for the best.” He sighed a happy sigh. “Before all this happened, I had no one.” He turned to Ren. “But now I have you. And even though you said you wouldn’t date me, I still like hanging out with you. You’re like my best friend.”

Ren smiled. He doesn’t quite seem to get it, but he has the spirit. “You might want to work on your delivery a little if you want to get a date from the Phansite” Ren pointed out.

“Oh” Mishima said.

“But your heart is in the right place,” Ren continued. “You wanted to help someone in need, and you took action to do so. Just maybe think things over a bit before you do anything.”

“Done and done,” Mishima said. “And sorry about setting up a date for you. I didn’t know you had that experience.”

Or a few other things. “It’s OK. Just don’t do it again.”

“Aye aye!” Mishima said.

Ren smiled. “I like hanging out with you too.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Mishima said, flustered.

Moon-Yuuki Mishima: Rank 2

Ren and Mishima went home for the evening.

#persona 5 #persona fanfiction #persona 5 royal #p5r #p5 femc #p5r rework #p5 rework #p5 #FeMC #female ren #ren amamiya #dr maruki #morgana #mishima