#because i have very little attachment to my birth name and wish i could drop it

[spookymooks]

do i have to be legally bound to a name? is it not enough to alternate names i like every few months because im an indecisive gourd?????

#skelerambles #once again i encounter the dilema of what i actually want to rename myself #because i have very little attachment to my birth name and wish i could drop it #i mean most people know me as mokka anyway but i still want an identity a little bit #like #separate from my online name ya feel

[moriarty-bibliotheca]

—✧ ❝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬❞ ✉

— 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ✉

𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔: hello sorry for my english😌 Can you ask for the script of Reader x Albert James Moriarty?. The reader is friends with the Moriarty brothers and helps them change the world, and at one point feels stronger feelings for Albert. Which scares her because she's not a noble so she feels she shouldn't love a noble so she starts to distance herself from his lover and if she talks to him it's very brief. which Albert notices and tries to talk to her in private. can there be a happy ending. Sorry🙏

❝ 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 ❞

— 𝗳𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

— 𝗻𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀

— 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀!

— 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱!

☎ 𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: i love albert so much! 😭🥺 this is the first request i’ve received in this blog, thank you so much! hope you like it! don’t apologize, love. thank you so much! now go ahead and check out the story!  

Sounds of the pen scribbling on your journal was the only thing audible at this time of the day, you were isolating yourself in the room as it seems like your mind has been occupied with a number of thoughts lately. Thoughts that you wish you never had, if you could just have the power to make this disappear in a snap, you would immediately make it go away.

You continued writing down your inner thoughts into your journal, one that he bought for you. The older Moriarty had been nothing but nice to you, ever since the day you met him, never had he or his brothers once mistreated you because you were a commoner, someone lower in rank than he is, this caused you to have a stable friendship with the three of them.

Now, of course, you knew about their wish; their wish to change the world, this society. It was ridiculous that your status by birth dictates how you should live. If you are a noble, you get the greater things in life; you get treated with respect, have a better education, work in high-paying jobs and earn more money, and even live a very luxurious life. The rich gets richer and the poor gets poorer, doesn’t that sound terrible?

A knock came through the door, interrupting your train of thoughts and your writing, you looked towards the direction of the door and placed the pen back on its penholder. “Y/N,” the youngest Moriarty’s voice came through the wooden door, “it’s lunch.” It seems you had been so occupied with your writing and your thought process that you didn’t notice the time of the day, “I’ll be right there.” You looked at the mirror and fixed yourself, you let out a deep breath and left your room. Louis was still standing there as he gave you a smile and escorted you to the dining hall.

As you arrived, you sat on your designated seat, beside him. Out of all places that you could sit on, why did you decide to sit beside him? You’ve been distancing yourself from the older Moriarty lately, all those thoughts that kept you occupied were thoughts of him; his smile, his charms, the way he treats you, those are all the things you kept thinking of, and maybe even a few thoughts of you and him in a relationship.

How scandalous, it would be impossible for a lower class woman to be in a relationship with an upper class man, especially someone working in the military like Albert. “Y/N?” Your train of thought was interrupted once more when the second Moriarty called your name, you snapped out of your trance and looked at him, he seemed to be halfway done with his food along with his two brothers, “are you alright? You haven’t touched your food,” you hadn’t noticed that your food was already served for almost 15 minutes ago.

You gave William a smile and said that you were fine, you picked up your spoon and your smile immediately dropped, you used your spoon to grab a portion of (favorite food) and ate it, you continued eating until your plate was empty. Minutes later, everyone was finished with their meals and you were ready to leave.

“Stay, it has been a while since we all chatted together,” said the older Moriarty as he gently grabbed your wrist before you could walk away, your heart started beating fast; his smooth hands was holding your wrist, his gaze and attention were all on you, and that charming smile of his seems to be hypnotizing you even more.

How you wished you had the courage to stay and chat with your friends without looking like a tomato, but you were trying to fix this unrequited feelings of love and the only way you can think of is to be distant. “I wish I could,” you said as you looked away, “but I have things to do right now, sorry.” You pulled away from his touch and ran out of the dining room, you rushed your way to your chambers and immediately closed the door, you heaved out a sigh of relief before collapsing yourself on the floor.

After you left the dining hall, William looked at his older brother with worry. “Did something happen between you two?” asked the younger Moriarty, the older one shook his head as he grabbed his glass of wine, “not that I know of, she’s been ignoring me a lot lately.” The older Moriarty stared at the liquor as he swirled his wine glass, “I’ll speak to her later,” said Albert as he took a sip of his wine.

Hours later and it’s already half past 19:00 (7 PM), you left the room with the intention of grabbing a snack, it seems the residence was quiet today, maybe they went out without informing you. You walked your way to the kitchen and looked around and even checked in the ice box for any possible snacks that you could nibble on while staying in your room, you found your favorite pastries and grabbed a plate to place a few amount that will satisfy you.

“Ah, Y/N, perfect timing,” you froze from your spot and tried to hide the plate of pastries that you grabbed, for heaven’s sake, it looked like you were stealing. You turned around and to your surprise, it was the oldest Moriarty brother standing a few feet away from you with both of his hands behind him. “Albert,” you spoke as you tried to hide the plate, but that was useless for he already knew what you were doing minutes before he even spoke up, “is there something you need?”

“I need to talk to you,” said Albert as he walked towards you, you couldn’t walk any further without bumping your back onto the wall, so you stood still and waited for him to speak. “What is it?” you asked as you tried to maintain eye contact without turning as red as a tomato.

“I have just noticed that you were distancing yourself from me, did I do something to upset you?” You weren’t expecting him to ask you directly and notice you were ignoring him, but then again, this is a Moriarty brother we’re talking about. “You noticed?” you mumbled softly, but he heard it clearly and gave you a nod, you apologized and told him you weren’t feeling well for the past few weeks, you sputtered out an amount of excuses to cover up the fact that the sole reason you were ignoring him was because you fell in love with him.

While you were sputtering out excuses, Albert retracted his hand from behind and placed his index finger in front of your lips as a way of keeping your mouth shut, you immediately stopped talking as he handed you a (chosen flower). You were surprised as you looked at the flower and back to him, he gave you a smile and waited for you to accept the flower from him. “What’s this for?” you asked as you grabbed the flower from him, you tried to calm your quick heartbeat and placed a hand over your chest before looking back at him.

“What do you think?” said Albert, he wasn’t going to give the answer so easily, you looked back at the flower and noticed that there was a folded paper attached to the stem, you grabbed the small paper and unfolded it to see the message written inside.

“I love you,” was written neatly in a beautiful penmanship, your cheeks turned red and you felt like you were in a dream, you looked back at Albert and asked, “are you okay with me being a commoner?” He looked surprised when you asked him that question, he chuckled and shook his head as he grabbed your hand and kissed it while looking at you, “your status doesn’t matter to me, my dear.”

☎ 𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚'𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆: well, here you go! this feels a little too short or rushed, i’m sorry about that! story requests are still closed, slots are full! thank youuuu so much! visit the bibliotheca again, darling! we’re always open for a good read! stay safe, love!

#yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty anime #moriarty #moriarty the patriot #albert james moriarty #moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #mtp x reader #ynm x reader #female reader #x reader #albert james moriarty x reader #憂国のモリアーティ #anime x reader #moriarty bibliotheca

[angelbaugh-writes]

There’s Something You Should Know (1/2) {Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader}

Summary: After a one-night stand with the BAU’s unit chief, Y/N believe that she will never have to see him again. Her plan to avoid even more heart break crumbles when they cross paths once more and Hotch sees her with a kid.

Warnings: some cursing, I think?

Author’s Note: This is going to be a two-parter! I hope you guys enjoy this. I’ve worked pretty hard the past couple days. The second part should be out later this week. Thank you so so much for reading! Xox Angel Baugh

    The first time you met Aaron Hotchner was on a case a little over four years ago. Having the BAU come to your precinct to assist with a series of murders was not something you expected to ever experience. It came as a shock when you had three killings in a month. The most you'd had to deal with was a calm robbery or domestic abuse situation. Luckily for your coworkers and you, the group of FBI agents was quick to catch the man terrorizing your city. The most memorable part of the case was not the bloody crime scenes you weren't yet accustomed to, but the attractive unit chief you worked alongside for six days.     Fresh out of a divorce, Aaron was eager to get to know you during the week he spent next to you. Lingering glances and subtle grazes caused rising tension to grow between the two of you. It became a waiting game. What happened in the hotel room once the unsub was arrested almost seemed inevitable. Shared kisses and his heavenly, but oh so sinful, touch left you dazed. The dream ended abruptly when you woke up to an empty room. No sign of him. No note. Naked and alone, you felt humiliated. The man didn't have the decency to say good-bye. He used you for a quick fuck, and that was the end of it. ***     The last thing you wanted to do was call in help from the bureau. A copycat had started killings similar to the ones nearly half a decade ago. Your team tried to find the person responsible for the deaths using the same strategies as before. Nothing you did got you any closer to catching them. With a heavy heart, you send an email with the attached files to the last person you ever wanted to see again. Nausea filled you when you got a response back saying the group will be arriving in a few hours to assist.     A phone call from the babysitter was the last thing you needed to receive. She had a family emergency and was on her way to drop off your daughter. Panic was all you felt. God was playing you. You were sure of it. There was no time to find a new sitter so late. Aria had come to work with you before, but that was when you weren't trying to catch a murderer. The secretary, Julie, would always help out on those days by spending time with the spritely four-year-old while you finished up pertinent paperwork. But she had been out with the flu for the past couple of days. You quickly cleared your office of anything grisly or sharp. After child-proofing to the best of your ability, you walked to the front of the building to meet your daughter.     "Hey, baby! Mommy has a really busy day today, and Miss Julie isn't here today. Would you be okay sitting in my office?" you spoke softly as you led her to the room.     "Okay!"     "Thank you, Aria. Maybe for my lunch break, we can go to the park down the road."     The toddler's face lit up, "Oh! Yes yes yes!"     You sat with her in the office, watching her color a picture of a unicorn carelessly. A small smile rested on your face. An hour had already passed when one of your officers showed up at your door.     "They're here, Y/N." You nodded, giving Aria a kiss on the head before exiting. Three nicely dressed agents stood just a few feet away. Straightening your outfit, you made your way towards them.     JJ was the first to greet you, giving a tight hug. Rossi kissed your cheek. Aaron gave you a curt nod. He hadn't changed much since you saw him last. The bags under his eyes gave away how tired he was. You'd heard about the death of his ex-wife. You wanted to send your condolences but felt that it was inappropriate to do so. His gaze shifted to your office, spotting the little girl perched in your big chair.     "We have the big meeting room set up for you guys. Feel free to ask for more supplies or help. My team is more than willing to help with anything you need," you spoke steadily. "I'll be all over the place today because something has come up last minute, but I'll be able to give you guys my all tomorrow." Rossi thanked you before pushing Aaron down the hall.     "She looks just like him," JJ said quietly. You choked on air at the statement. She was right. Aria had long, black hair and warm, brown eyes. She had your nose and cheeks, but her smile was a carbon copy of his. There was no denying that he was the father. Anybody would be able to see through the lie.     You turned to the blonde next to you, "Do you want to meet her?" An enthusiastic nod was what you got in response. Grinning, you strolled into your office. "Aria?" The little girl's head raised at her name being called. "This is JJ. We worked together just before you were born."     "Hi!" she greeted excitedly, going back to her new coloring page quickly. Cinderella was concealed underneath a mess of pinks and yellows.     "Hey," JJ spoke kindly, "You like princesses, too? I have a little boy that likes superheroes."     "Superheroes are cool, but princesses wear pretty dresses and shiny," your daughter said matter-of-factly.     "Baby? Mommy has to go work for a little bit. Will you be okay in here?" you asked nervously. Leaving her alone made you feel uneasy.     "I could watch her why you talk with Hotch," JJ offered.     You sighed, "Really? Thank you so much."     The walk to where the two agents would be was nerve-wracking. You didn't want to see Aaron. Knowing him, he'd already profiled you and your kid. There was no way he hadn't put two and two together. The talk that you would have to have with him was the last thing you wanted to do. Maybe you should just quit and move out of state. Knocking softly, you opened the door     "I brought some of the files from the case four years ago." The two men turned to you.     "Perfect! Is the coffee still down the hall to the left? I need some caffeine," Rossi continued to speak as he left. You mumbled a quiet 'bastard' under your breath. You turned to the tall man, unable to form any words,     He took a deep breath, "Y/N, you should know that I'm sorry about leaving that morning. I was scared and ran away instead of accepting my feelings. I want to make it up to you while I'm in town." You were thrown back by his bluntness. Sure, he was always very forward with his feelings, but you expected a simple hello first.     "Aaron," you sighed, "I'd love to talk about it. My hands are full, though."     "Oh, right. How old is she?" he asked even though he knew the answer.     "She's uh...just about to turn four in- in a couple of months," you stumbled over your words a bit as you answered. There was no use in hiding the information from an intelligent profiler.     He let out a shaky breath as your words settled in. You watched his expression change from confusion to shock.    "Is she-"     You cut him off, "Yes. I understand if you don't want to be a part of this. It's an unorthodox arrangement, I know. We've been able to get this far."     His heart broke at your words. If he'd known, he would have... Well, he didn't know what he would have done if he found out. He would have been mourning the death of his ex-wife around the time you'd given birth. There was no way he would have been in a healthy enough mental state to help you and your daughter- and his daughter. Aaron Hotchner was the father of two kids.     "Why didn't you tell me?"     "After days spent together, you left as soon as you made a move. Was I supposed to think that you would be willing to help raise a kid when we don't even live in the same state? You never messaged me, Aaron. I thought it was some fling," you mumbled as you wiped away a few fallen tears.     He stepped forward, eager to comfort you, "Y/N, I haven't stopped thinking about you since that night. I wanted to call you, but I had to put my son first. You know what that feels like. Jack and I both lost someone and I couldn't move on like that. He wouldn't have understood. How I treated you was awful, and I wish I could go back and change it."     "We should talk more about this outside of work, okay? I know you like to go over the case after hours, but Aria and I would love to have some company at our place."     "You want me to meet her?"     "I want her to be able to know her father, yes. I think we should take it slow, though."     "I'm okay with that."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #david rossi #emily prentiss #derek morgan #penelope garcia #criminal minds imagine #Criminal Minds

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Can I request how did I get so lucky with Levi? Please and thank you!😁

I really wrote hurt/comfort just like that once again i-

I really really loved writing this one, it's very different from a lot of things I've written before, I hope you like it

Warnings: none really, two Kuchels tho but I made sure you won't mix them up

Pairing: Levi/ reader

Tags: Modern au, hurt/comfort, daddy Levi strikes again

Caramel Apple

Levi's foot blocks the sleek vandyke brown door from opening more than a few inches. Your eyes flicker between him and in the interior, begging to get a glimpse of the very reason you find yourself at his door again but his mascular form doesn't allow you to see much, only the shadow of his black leather couch and a few grey and copper tiles from the fireplace. It only makes you sigh in frustration as your anger starts to boil inside of you.

You've always been adamant about never entering his home again and even though you're never about to break the rules you've set for yourself tonight feels like the last straw of your sanity has been pulled. Levi is purposely not offering you to get inside, counting on the fact that you won't ask for permission to enter anyways.

"Levi, seriously, I just want to see Kuchel." Your eyes glint with anger as you speak to him in a steady tone, trying to cover your anger in such a fake way.

His choice of words though never seems to mind your tormenting patience as he lifts the words slip off of the tip of his tongue "None can do for this weekend, I'm sorry!"

"What?" Your eyes widen, your hands slightly shake "Levi I haven't seen my daughter in a week!"

It's only natural of you to demand to see your little girl. For a week now Levi has been calling you back to back, every single night, announcing to you that Kuchel wanted to stay with him, that she misses him and that she won't stop crying at the hearing of having to part ways with her father. And even if the slight rejection of your motherhood by the five year old hurt you to the core you knew much better than to try and part the two. Your break up had indeed tortured her pour little soul; she was lost between having to stay at two different houses she was forced to adjust to two separate lifestyles and her attachment to her after was getting the best of her. She didn't even want to go to school if it wasn't Levi driving her there. You could only comply to her wishes.

"It's not my fault you have dates to go to." He never gives you a chance to reply though as his eyes bore into yours with the faintest tint of mischief. "I have the weekend off so I'm taking Kuchel to Disneyland."

Between wondering whether this was too far fetched and thinking about what clothes to pack for Kuchel, Levi felt panicked. His stoic mask didn't let him show any regards towards your barely visible face, but inside his heart sank to his stomach, leaving him feel numb.

It was the first time in the two years that you had broken up that he had ever done something so selfish to you. So far he had been the perfect co parent, picking up Kuchel almost everyday to drop her at her pre school, always making sure that your days with your daughter were arranged evenly. Overall there has been nothing you could negatively accuse him for and he's so proud of the profile he has kept.

In the last month he's been feeling so conflicted internally that it's become unbearable. He's been through miserable, never ending nights feeling alone and abandoned. You wouldn't bring yourself to understand, he knows that very well, so telling you is off the table. Though there nights he wants you and his daughter by his side, there are mornings he wants to wake up and see the two of you cuddled on the other side of the bed just like once before.

"I'm really going to have to ask you to leave." The sound of his tongue clicking is louder than the words that leave his mouth. As his eyes stare into yours with an unreadable feeling plastered on them you can feel that anger, the one that has been boiling in your stomach for so long, staring to eat away your insides. "Kuchel is asleep and I don't want her sleep disturbe-"

Your jaw drops and your words refuse to let go off your tongue. Any hopes of trying to remain civil tonight have been thrown out of the window because you're simply not having it. There's not much you can do from standing behind his front door though. No begging will ever even convince him to let down his guard and he'd be right. That was part of the reason you wouldn't enter his house amymore nonetheless.

"I miss my baby Levi, you're being so unfair!Doesn't Kou miss me?"

Levi flinches at the nickname. There's a restrain in his heart that won't allow him to speak of anyone in nicknames ever again and you're at fault, because every little thing in his life screams your fucking name and he despises it. Nowadays it's only him and Kuchel that seem to be on the same side.

"Her name is Kuchel."

He's so cynical that you might let out that salty tear -the one your left eye has tried so hard to push back- run down your cheek and stain your face. You can only endure so much refusal to see your baby's face. Her tiny voice in nowhere to be heard, her angelic face nowhere to be seen and you want to breakdown.

Why should Levi care, you're still puzzled as to why. The way you've treated him lately has been so brutal and he doesn't deserve it, you know he doesn't although your demons don't take anyone and anything into consideration. The small bleak of the door is symbolic to you, it's a gesture that he doesn't want to let you in, but he allows you to have a small leak of his grayscale paradise.

You shouldn't be in a place to beg with him since you are in the wrong. Kuchel isn't a doll that the two of you should play with, she's a lovely little girl with very real emotions who's trying to comprehend yours and Levi's bullshit. Your bullshit.

If Levi had it his way, you knew he'd keep Kuchel as far from you as he could and Kuchel would agree without a second thought.

Between his loud growls and your sobbing imitations you manage to wake Kuchel up for her peaceful slumber. Her little raven head peaks from the corner of the leather couch, hair sleek despite her sleeping position. It makes you groan how much she looks like him at every aspect of her life, personality and appearance alike. It is as if he had birthed her out of his womb, not you.

Maybe that is part of the reason you feel so strained away.

Or maybe it iss her unforgiving gaze that is identical to her father's.

She doesn't exactly sparkle when she sees you but you attribute that to her only having just woken up. A little fist rubs on her closed eye lid, sweeping a few eyelashes away. Levi makes sure to pick them up from her cheek when he takes her in his arms.

"Hey mommy!"

Her enthusiasm seems to grow on her as her eyes gradually open. You hadn't seen her face in a long, agonising week, her sight made you week to your knees.

"Hey baby, ready to go home?" You beam, pushing the tears away.

"No!" She pouts "Daddy will take me to Rapunzel's castle tomorrow!"

To her it was such a big deal. The promise to see her favorite princess and her prince, to fight the most evil Gothel with her squeeky little voice, it all excited her way too much. Although you're in no place to ruin their fun -Levi has the right to spend his time with Kuchel however he pleases- but you have to admit it hurts. A lot.

Wanting to go to Disneyland was your most vivid childhood dream. The scenery had always fascinated you, there were so many things you had always wanted to do. And Levi had promised, while he was driving you to the hospital once your water had broke, that he'd take you along with Kuckel.

You open your mouth to speak but words never really come out as you take your defeat in. Your heart's sinking, your knees want to give up on supporting your whole weight but just as you're about to collapse two familiar voices catch your attention.

"Oi runts, what's with the commotion?"

"Kenny! Be a little kinder, hey love!"

Your face suddenly drops lower than it's ever possible. In panic you wonder if staying still will guard you from the sights of Kenny and Kuchel, but you're absurdly reminded that could never be the case.

"Im here to pick Kou up." You whisper, ashamed to look any of the Ackermans in their eyes. They really had you cornered like a rat now.

"Ah, aren't you guys going to Disneyland this weekend?" Kuchel smiles as she greets you with eagerness.

At this point Levi is forced to open the door. It's only rude to keep his family standing in the hallway of his apartment complex because you're in the midst of having a small fight. You're not sure if you want to get in, though, he never allows you to.

"It's only me and Kuchel, mom. What made you think (y/n) was coming?"

Kenny huffs at the words, clicking his tongue in annoyance. "Trouble in paradise?" He rightfully earns a death glare from his sister. His legs shot up on the coffee table, catching Levi's attention. Your little girl mumbles something about the table turning dirty once again and Levi agrees, sparing her the tiniest of smugs.

"Look (y/n)," the ravenette's attention turns to you once again "I think you should go, were flying early tomorrow, I promise I'll make up for this whole week someway."

With gloom in your eyes you turn on your feet, ready to storm off of the hallway, and down to the elevator. If you're not wanted here then it's fine. With a kiss on little Kuchel's forehead, you tuck her strands behind her ear and whisper a soft goodnight to her. Levi's door closes too fast, too sharp, too humiliating to your person and at this, you can't help but finally breakdown. Your legs don't even drag you to the end of his hallway. With your back against the nearest wall you collapse, hit tears making their appearance on the corners of your eyes.

"Don't be a little bitch Levi, your brat is not a doll you two pass to eachother, in case ya didn't notice." Inside the apartment Kenny's words sting like a thousand yellowjackets launching onto Levi's skin, but only because the old man speaks the truth. He keeps the arrogant comment about the language that should be used around his daughter to himself, he's eager to listen what his mother had to say on the situation.

"I still don't even know the reason you're not together anymore."

He doesn't either. He can't bring himself to remember the exact reason you had fallen apart or why you had acted to cold towards him two months ago. In a haze, that's probably only for the worst he pops Kuchel into Kenny's uninviting arms and picks up a shift space with his matching.

If he's surprised by your vulnerable position on the hallway he doesn't ever show. His twitching eyebrows betrays the tint of worry in his expression but your trembling lip doesn't allow you to utter words just yet. It'd only when he swoops to your level, knees touching the cold tiles of the floor while his eyes look directly in your face. His calloused hand comes to bed your cheek in order to provide you some sort of comfort for your exhausted head and to wipe a salty tear with his thumb. He isn't ever really soft like that, but you come to believe it's been so long without him that you've forgotten about his compassionate side.

"How did I get so lucky to be loved by someone like you, and how was I so stupid to make us go through this?"

Your words are hurting you more than you want to admit to. It's unfair, how you want to come undone, how time and space cease to exist in the moment, how you don't feel like you can keep your heart's insides to yourself.

"Im so sorry I left that morning but I was so, so afraid." You continue.

It was no secret. That particular night you had shared two months ago, wrapped in his sheets like old times had sparked so many flames or reconciliation between the two of you. Be it that it was you who showed up at his door or him that took you in, be it that you did this because you missed every tiny aspect of him that it was overwhelming. You can't even pinpoint a reason as to why the two of you were so natural together. But you have thrown your only chance away. And he won't even let you in his home.

"I was too, beats me as to what I would have done if I was in your place." His voice is tinted in melancholy but paradoxically his steel orbs never once fall from yours. "But I've spent so much time being mad at you that I can't even remember why im feeling this way in the first place."

Your hand shoots to his chest, only to grab at his plain gray crewneck in an attempt to pull him closer, close enough that your foreheads collide. Onyx shaggy strands engulf your vision as your heavy breaths mingle and your thoughts are finally able to come through mouth.

"Who are you and what have you done to the Levi I know." A muffled giggle comes out of your cries and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it smug appears on Levi's face. It catches you by surprise, the way his face lots up from only just a second is an image you've tried you convince yourself to forget but your mind always finds a way to come back to it.

His hand comes to rest on your nape, trapping the hair underneath his grip as he leans to give a kiss to your forehead.

"We'll talk about everything with caramel poisoned apples with Kuchel alright?" Your eyes lit up at his statement, glistening tears threatening to fall once again from your eyes. "Tch, don't look at me like that of course I bought three tickets."

You miss the way his eyes widened as you engulf him tightly in your arms, closing the painful space that had been separating you up until a few seconds ago. Maybe you won't kiss just yet, this isn't a lust filled moment. It's a moment of putting a new brick at that wall of trust you had wrecked a few years ago. With that inevitable fate and love that brought you back to eachother no matter what and a lot of patience the two of you are going to make it work. No excuses this time.

Was this short, was this enough? I honestly don't know I enjoyed this one because for once I figured the ending as I went along. Reading your guys comments makes me feel really good so if you want to drop a comment (or a request) don't be shy. Thanks for reading, it means a lot💞

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #captain levi #x reader #reader insert #levi heichou

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 26: Parental Moxiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 26 - You can’t see shades of your soulmate’s eye color a certain color until you meet [your soulmate] and look into each other’s eyes for the first time. (I misread the prompt! Whoops!)

Content warnings: mentions of lousy foster system, orphanage, implied past abuse/neglect, social workers, aro/ace character, past minor injuries (pet inflicted), mentions of anxiety and PTSD.

Word count: 2.8k

Note: Not beta-read

Patton never doubted the fact that he was lucky.

His heart always went out to those who were missing colors like green, and blue. It must be horrible, he thought, to be missing out on the hue of a grassy field or the sky forever being grey, even on clear days. But then again, meeting your soulmate after seeing nature as dismal shades for years must be amazing; trees suddenly lighting up in brilliant emerald and water becoming as crystal blue as a diamond. So he was grateful, because he was missing a color that was surprisingly rare to find in nature, if the shocking lack of grey was enough of an indicator. Grateful, because that meant he wouldn’t be missing out. Grateful, because Patton didn’t want a soulmate.

It had taken him years to realize why he was so adamant about actually finding his soulmate. Everyone, from his middle school class to his university study group to his coworkers now, had frequent conversations about the topic. Common ice breakers amongst groups were “what color are you missing?” and “tell us about the first time you saw ‘insert color name here’” and just anything else that reminded Patton of how little he wanted all of that. He was happy with his friends, happy with his family-- both blood and chosen-- and the idea of… romantic relationships just made him uncomfortable. He hated that it seemed to be the rest of the world’s main drive in life. Every time he explained his ‘predicament’, had to explain to someone that he was aro/ace and just didn’t want all that, he was met with pity looks. No one believed him when he insisted that it didn’t make him sad, he wasn’t just waiting for the right person, he just didn’t want it and that was okay. 

That didn’t explain why he was missing a color, though. If it were up to him, he’d spend the rest of his life content with the way it was going, not searching for a so-called “better half”. He wished that soulmates weren’t a thing, in full honesty. Because then he wouldn’t be reminded every time he looked at a dull lilac bush that no, the universe had paired him up with someone and it was only a matter of time until he was subject to meeting them. It was the thing he dreaded more than anything else.

These were the thoughts going through his mind as he fiddled with a pen between his fingers that appeared as grey to him, absently wondering what ‘purple’ actually looked like. The door to his right opened and he looked up, a bright smile spreading across his face.

“Hi, Mr. Sanders. My name is Deborah, I’m one of the social workers here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Patton said, his heart almost beating out of it’s chest. She took a seat across the desk from him, placing the file in her hands onto the pristine wood. He laid the pen back on the desk where he’d taken it from. 

“So,” Her tone was all business, but her eyes held a distinct sparkle that could only be taken as a good sign, “I’m the social worker of one of the children’s profiles you flagged on the adoption website. Do you remember a ‘Virgil Storm’?”

“Absolutely!” Patton remembered the picture of the kid well. A small boy sitting cross legged in a sandbox, looking at the camera with an expression that could only be described as disdain, hands buried in the sand. He was noticeably separated from the group, the hood of his black jacket pulled over his eyes despite the shining sun. After reading the small blurb about him, and immediately growing attached to the toddler that had been tossed around four foster homes in the single year he’d been orphaned, he’d clicked the small smiley face in the top right corner with no hesitation. 

“I was given your file, and after discussing it with your social worker, we’ve decided you two might be a match.”

Patton nearly dropped on the spot, trying in vain to hold back his huge grin, “I thought they said that could take up to a year!”

“That is our usual estimate. While, unfortunately, the adoption rate is a lot lower for single men, you were put through faster due to your profession. You being a therapist definitely pushed you forward in the right direction.” 

Opening the file, she pulled out a stack of papers and a single picture, handing them to him. The picture was the same as the one on the adoption website, so his eyes turned to scan the printed profile.

“This is all his current information. Known family history, allergies, education level, etcetera,” The social worker continued, gesturing to the file, “That picture’s a bit old. He just turned three. He’s had a… pretty rough go of it so far. The information about his parent’s passing are in his file, if you want to give the whole thing a read when you have the chance.”

Patton tore his eyes away from the photo, “And he’s a possible match?”

“Yes, he is. He needs a stable home environment with no pets and no other children, and due to the trauma he experienced, has severe anxiety. Him developing PTSD as he ages is a large possibility. He’s a bit of a tough nut to crack, but we believe he’ll thrive with you.”

He took a deep breath, nodding mutely along with her words. He didn’t trust himself to speak right now, not with the odd mix of pure heartbreak and elation flowing through him. The poor kid…

“You can take the file home, take some time to think about it-”

“No,” He said quickly, “I mean… I don’t need to think about it. How do you determine if we match well?”

Deborah blinked a couple times, taken back by his abruptness. “Well… chemistry after a first meeting, judging if the child’s uncomfortable with the other, and meeting with the child and parent weekly for the first three months, then bi-weekly for the next three. After a six month residency, we can get the adoption legalized by the court. Both your social worker and I will be there every step of the way to answer any questions, help with the adjustment process, and just support you both.” She looked to Patton with a raised eyebrow, “Are you sure you don’t want to take some time?”

“I’m very sure.” He’d flagged many profiles on the website, feeling an unexplainable amount of guilt every time he didn’t, but Virgil’s had stuck with him more than any other. The idea of a kid already riddled with social anxiety and trauma had hit him hard, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to help him through it. 

“Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes please,” He said before she had even finished speaking. She gave him a small smile and headed to the door, warning him it might be a while to convince the boy to come with her, so to just sit tight. 

When she’d closed the door behind her, Patton turned his attention back to the file on his lap. He might as well read it while she was gone, anyways. It didn’t take long for him to read the few pages of information, committing Virgil’s birthday to memory. A small part of his brain advised that that might not be the smartest thing to do, already getting attached to a child he hadn’t even met, but his heart broke reading over the history of someone so young, still a toddler, undergoing trauma that no one should ever have to go through. The poor kid watched his parents die, and they were pretty awful people to begin with. 

He’d read the file twice over when the door reopened. At first he thought she’d come back alone and his heart sunk, until she shifted to the side and revealed the small boy who’d tucked himself behind her. He wasn’t touching her, not holding the hand she had offered to him, just following steps behind, like he was equally scared of her as he was of everything else. Pulled over his head was the same black hoodie as in the picture, looking a size too small now. It took a lot of tugging for him to hide his hands in the short sleeves, an anxious sign that Patton recognized immediately. Though, it wasn’t hard to narrow down, not with the way he was absolutely shaking. 

Patton slid off his chair with no hesitation, smoothly lowering himself to the ground so he was closer to eye level with Virgil. Still, the young child pulled his chin even closer to his chest, adamant on not meeting the man’s eyes.

“Hey kiddo,” Patton cooed gently, “My name’s Patton. You can call me Pat if that’s easier, okay? What’s your name?” He already knew everything about him, obviously, but it seemed a smart choice to let the kid introduce himself; avoid spooking him.

“Virgil,” he whispered back, mouth half covered by the collar of his hoodie. 

“That’s a real nice name, kiddo.”

Finally, the small boy looked up, dark brown eyes barely peeking through his equally dark bangs. His head tilted to the side, not unlike a curious puppy, as he studied the man in front of him, the man who was willingly sitting on the floor for him. None of his foster parents had done that before, and he highly doubted his parents would have ever considered it. Thinking of his birth parents caused him to shrink in on himself slightly.

“How would you feel about living with me, Virgil?” 

He looked down, wrestling his hands free of the dirty sleeves to fiddle with his zipper. “Like a foster home? I don’ like foster homes.” His speech was slow and fumbly, like he was working with new words.

“No, not like a foster home. For good.”

“With other kids?” Hands flat, he pushed his bangs out of his face and ended up letting his hood flop back. “In my last foster home, there were four kids.” He held up four fingers to emphasize his point.

“Nope,” Patton chuckled, leaning over to reattach the velcro on Virgil’s sneakers, “It would just be you and me. But I live really close to a park, so we can go play with other kids any time you want. And I have some friends with kids your age, and whenever you feel ready, you can meet them.”

This seemed to send a flurry of mixed emotions across the toddlers face. He glanced at the social worker, who had taken her seat and was watching the meeting with rapt attention. 

“Do you have pets?”

“Nope. Why, do you like pets?”

He shook his head with clear fear, ruining all his hard work of pushing his bangs away as they fell right back into his eyes, “No pets.”

“Well, then it’s good I don’t have any.”

Virgil gave him a hard look and Patton was silent, letting the child scrutinize him with all the intensity of a rocket scientist. Watching the elder’s hands carefully, the kid dropped to the ground in front of him, slowly meeting his eyes again. Patton couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched across his face. 

“Welcome to the floor, kiddo.” And oh, it was a blessed day, because the tiny smile he got in return was enough to make his heart melt. “Tell me, Virgil, what’s your favorite show?”

“Paw Patrol.”

“Ah, a classic! Do you have a favorite pup?”

“Rubble,” He mumbled after a moment of consideration, scratching at the rip in his jeans, right over his knee, “He’s funny. He falls in the elevator, and he says ‘Rubble ooon the double!’”  

“You don’t like pets, but you like Paw Patrol? Why’s that?” He couldn’t help his own inner therapist coming out.

Virgil shrugged, “They don’t bark loud, and they’re little. And they don’t make big messes or bite. Dogs are cute but I don’t like them. Dogs are too loud and they leave a mess.”

He felt there was probably a lot to unpack there, but that could definitely wait for another day. Deep inside, he knew there must be some trauma buried with that sentiment. “Do you like cats?”

“No. They scratch and bite and hiss too much,” He held up his hand to Patton, showing him the light scars on the backs of them, “We had a cat named Whiskers and he did that. He’d come in my room at night and bite me.” 

“Just as well. I’m allergic to cats anyways.”

“I’m allergic to peanuts.”

Patton giggled, and a relieved expression crossed the younger’s face. “What about fish? They’re pretty quiet, and they for sure don’t bite. Do you like fish?”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, before shrugging again, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. Maybe if you like fish, we can get some. How does that sound?”

Virgil perked up, his leg starting to bounce from where it was crossed under him, “Really?”

“Yeah, kiddo. We can also get you a new hoodie, since that one seems a bit small.” Of course, he meant to buy him more than just a hoodie, but he might as well start small. The very idea of getting a fish seemed to almost overwhelm him.

“I like my hoodie,” Virgil’s voice dropped and he curled in on himself, wrestling to pull the sleeves over his fingers again.

“Oh, that’s okay! You can keep that one, but we’ll get more, just so you can wear them when this one is in the wash.”

His eyebrows scrunched together adorably, his back relaxing. It hurt Patton, to think that having such basic needs met was a shock for him.

“If you two don’t mind, I’m going to talk to just Virgil for a little bit,” Deborah spoke up, causing Virgil to flinch. “Is that okay with you, sweetie?”

He nodded reluctantly, and Patton took his leave, sending Virgil one final supportive smile before closing the office door behind him. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, before taking a seat in the waiting room. It would be a lie to admit he wasn’t already enamoured with the little kid, but the final decision wasn’t up to him. Ultimately, it would be Virgil and the social worker who would deem it a match or not. Knowing that’s what was happening on the other side of the door was enough to make his leg bounce nervously. 

He passed the time by pulling out his phone and sending a vague update to his friends. The onslaught of messages he got in return, mostly ecstatic, was enough to distract him as he waited to be called back in. Of course, not all the responses were enthusiastic, mainly from his parents and sister, asking if he was sure he was ready for this. Those, he just left on read. Because yes, he was ready. He had been for a long time. 

When he was called back into the room, Virgil was sitting in the much too large chair in front of the desk, his feet pulled up under him again and looking between him and the social worker. His hood was back on his head, sleeves covering his hands once more. 

“From what Virgil and I discussed, it seems we are ready to begin the process of moving him into your house, and beginning your residency period.”

Patton tried not to whoop at the news, grinning wider than he had all day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this utterly elated, so light on his feet. 

They agreed to show Virgil the home, just to get him used to the layout before finally moving there, and he would come visit during the days for the next few weeks, still spending his nights in the orphanage. It was a gradual transition, one that Patton hoped went smoothly, because oh gosh he couldn’t believe this was happening. 

As he led Virgil out of the building, the small boy hesitantly reached up and took his hand, head tucked to his chest. He was so scared. Patton squeezed his hand a little, heart equally shattered and melted, as he walked to the social worker’s car and let her buckle him into her carseat. They agreed to meet at the house, and Patton pulled onto the main road, music blasting to try and drown out the indescribable joy bubbling in his chest.

If he hadn’t been so distracted, he might have noticed the pen he’d placed on the desk back in the office, would now have been a shimmering purple in his eyes.

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #parental moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts soulmate au #sanders sides #sanderssides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanderssidesau #ts adoption au

[puckngrind]

What’s In a Name: Epilogue - J. Toews

Epilogue.

Where we left off: Jon and Bekah welcomed Lincoln into the world in 2020.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 3,827

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

2025.

The rink has seemed like home for Bekah since meeting and marrying Jon. This morning it was a bit different as she kneels in front of her now five year old tying his hockey skates.

"Tight enough Linc?" Bekah asks and Lincoln stands to his feet.

"Yes, Momma. Maybe even better than Daddy does it." Bekah muffles her laugh from Lincoln's comment.

"Good. Now, let's get this jersey and your helmet on." Bekah stands and pulls over the house hockey green jersey over his pads. She feels someone staring but doesn't take her focus off the very squirrelly Kindergartener who doesn’t have the patiences for her to stop. Tapping his helmet she hands him the gloves and the eyes she felt moves closer.

"Hey there!  Do ya'll know you have the same last name as the Hawk's captain and your son is wearing his number too. That's cute." Her comment was laced with a sense of entitlement and Bekah bit the inside of her cheek.

"Yup. Heard his foundation bought the jerseys for the league too." Bekah replies and turns her focus back to Lincoln as she rubbed lightly along the JT foundation logo on his shoulder. The woman then got called by her own son and scurried off before continuing.

"Is Daddy going to be off work before my game starts?" Lincoln's voice is muffled with his mouth guard in place.

"He should be here any moment baby boy." Bekah leans down to reassure him. "Speaking of!" Bekah eyes Jon coming through the doors of the rink. He embraces Bekah as he does every time he comes home before turning his attention to the kids.

"Sorry I'm late but looks like you’ve got this covered." Jon whispers after his lips brush hers.

"We are all set. And the fake Louis over there thinks it's cute Linc is wearing 19 and has the Captain's last name too." Bekah smirks.

"Well maybe Scar should run by with her Daddy sweater on." Jon shakes the toddler's hand. "Hey baby girl!" Bekah laughs and goes to take Scarlett out of the toddler carrier attached to her back. The now two year old in her St. Patrick's Day Daddy jersey goes running after Lincoln who started walking to his team. "You would think she runs this place." Jon laughs grabbing Bekah's hand as she tucks the carrier into Lincoln's bag.

"She had grown up coming here. Linc has been taking classes since she was 7 months old, Tae."

"I'm gonna go save Linc from the relentless questions I am sure she’s asking him." Jon heads over to scoop Scarlett up and wishes Lincoln's team good luck playing their first game. The three walk up to sit in the stands and Scarlett starts cheering as the team takes the ice.

"Coot! Core! Let's go Inks!" Scarlett's chubby hands clap.

"You really think he's okay playing with these older boys?" Bekah's leg is bouncing on up and down and Jon's hand settles her.

"Yes. He's playing up because he's good not because he's our son, Beks. No one knows he's five." Jon whispers to calm his wife's nerves.

Lincoln's first hockey game started and even though he was the youngest on the ice by two years, you would never guess. The Toews genes evident in how he played. Bekah, Jon, Scarlett cheered as he scored his first goal and then laughed as he jumped up in excitement but didn’t land on his skates. Bekah looked towards the scoreboard and realized the same mom from earlier was staring at Jon. "I might never get use to people just staring at you." Bekah whispered not realizing she even said it out loud.

"I know Babe." Jon's lips kiss her temple. "Maybe you should bring your Louis with you next game." Jon chuckles knowing the Louis Vuitton collecting dust in the closet was never coming to the hockey rink.

"Funny Tae... funny." Bekah bumps her shoulder into his side. "Maybe if Scar decides potty training is actually something she's interested in I could bring a real purse with me." Bekah spins one of Scarlett's ringlets around her finger.

"She won't even be three until February." Jon bounces his mini-me on his knee and she laughs.

"Yeah, yeah. I know, boys and girls are different." Bekah knowing where Jon was going with the conversation and how she already had Lincoln trained by Scarlett's age. "There you go Linc!" Bekah shouts as Lincoln dives in front of a puck and Jon's laugh rings out.

"You would never know Momma wasn't really into hockey ten years ago. Would ya?" Jon kisses Scarlett's head.  “Now she’s rocking the hockey mom life.” Bekah eyes Jon and he mouths, “sexy at it too.” Bekah feels the heat in her cheeks but turns her attention back to the ice.

The game ended and Jon helped Bekah put Scarlett back in her carrier then met Lincoln and his team.

“There’s my boy!” Jon scooped Lincoln up with all his gear on. “You played hard. We are so proud of you.” Jon drops Lincoln down and the three of them start taking off his gear while Lincoln talks a mile a minute recounting the entire game.

“Did you see my double shift dad? See how I used my skate to kick the puck out of the corner?” Lincoln’s little voice sounding just like Jon and both parents laugh.

“We sure did Linc. Now let’s get home and get ready for Auntie Rin, m’kay?” Bekah feels Scarlett bopping up and down on her back while Jon tries to control Lincoln’s excited dance as he attempts to undress him the rest of the way.

The car ride home was filled with giggles of Brynn’s arrival and recap of the game. Bekah grazed her finger down Jon’s arm and he shifts as she moved to his leg. “What was that for?” She questioned and sees Jon smirk.

“Nothin’ Beks.” The sly smirk permanently graced his face for the rest is the ride. Bekah dropped it knowing if it was something he was hiding she’d find out soon enough.

The kids bolt inside the house as soon as they are unbuckled. “Don’t go too far Rin will be here in less than an hour!” Bekah called out and hears a door shut from behind her and spins on her heals to see her best friend rounding her car.

“How about like one minute? You should know my driving skills would get me here faster!” Brynn opens her arms waiting for Bekah’s embrace. “Now help me with these crazies!” She pulls open the sliding door to a choir of squeals.

“Hey kids!” Bekah leans in and unbuckles Derek and Brynn’s newest edition to their family. Morgan’s little fingers make grabby hands at Bekah. “Hey sweet girl. You taking it easy on your Mommy?”

“You lied about 18 month old girls, friend.  Lied.” Brynn answered.

“Mom’s right Aunt Beks.” Jack, the oldest, pops out and half hugs Bekah. “Morgan is giving her a run for her money as Dad says.” All three adults laugh and Jon scoops up Brynn’s middle son, Jameson.

“How about you boys take Morgan to find Lincoln and Scar. I’m sure they are in the playroom. Remember how to get there?” Both boys nod and run in the house with their sister in tow.

Jon and Bekah flank Brynn as she breathes out. “I love them but they can be a lot.”

“And you are doing a damn good job. Have you heard when Morgan can be adopted yet?” Jon moves to the back of her van to take out the suitcases.

“Caseworker says she’s different than the boys even though it’s the same birth mom. So in the land of foster to adopt... We shall wait.” Brynn laughs. Derek and Brynn decided to be foster parents not long after Lincoln was born. They took placement of Jack and Jameson not long after finishing all their paperwork. Jack was 3 and Jameson was a newborn. When the couple found out that the birth mom had another baby and she could either go into foster care with different family or them. There was no question. They needed to keep the siblings together.

“So glad you decided to spend the boys’ fall break here Rin. I’ve missed you.” Bekah slid a drink over as Brynn launches herself up to the kitchen stool.

“Me too. How do the kids get up here? I see the pictures.” Brynn laughs while taking a sip.

“Have you seen my children, they climb on everything! Scar swings her tiny self up there and then jumps down. It’s resourceful.”

“They are Jon’s kids, there is no denying that.”  Brynn laughs with a sip.

“Hey!  I should take offense to that but I might have to agree there.”  Jon presses his lips to Bekah’s temple and she leans into him.  The friends fell into easy conversation until they were interrupted by Morgan who wanted a snack.  Jon handed the toddler enough fruit snacks for all of them and she toddled back.  “I’ve wondered this for awhile.  Why is she not a J?”

Both women just look at him.  “Tae, I’ve never thought about it.  Jack and Jameson.  A J girl name makes sense.”  Bekah looks at Brynn who just shrugs her shoulders.  The caseworker said her and Derek could change any of the kids names but they decided to leave them for a few reasons then gave the boys new middle names when they were officially adopted.

“They are all alcohol brands, but is that just...” Jon questions and Brynn’s mouth drops opens.  

“I... how... ummm...”  Brynn starts and her eye go wide.  “At least they aren’t named after the place they were...”  Brynn looks down the hall then back to her friends, “conceived.” Her face lights up with mischief.  

“Rin, Linc and Scar aren’t named after that.”  Bekah answers with a puzzled look written all over her face.  

“Sure they are.  Lincoln was in your Lincoln Park place and still miss that roof, every time I come here...”  Jon starts laughing as he’s caught on.

“But Scarlett?  Are you saying she was in Columbus?  Like Scarlett and Grey?  Because that’s not the case.”  Bekah runs her hand over her face.

“Beks, we live on Red Maple.  R-E-D.”  Jon laughs while pulling Bekah into his side.  “And everyone in this room can do the math on Scar’s birthday and my last cup win.”

“Oh.  My.  No!”  Bekah responds sending both Jon and Brynn into a fit of laughter.  

“So if Jon makes the All-Star game this year, maybe we can expect a Seattle named baby to come out of the trip?”  Brynn snickers knowing she’s getting under her best friend’s skin.

“Speaking of trips.  I miss you coming with me.”  Jon seems to have changed the subject before hearing his name being called and he retreats to answer the kids.

“Bekah, you know you could go with him Wednesday.  They play in St. Louis.  I’ve got the kids and Kelly lives here now.  I’m sure she can help if something goes crazy, which I don’t plan on that happening.”  Brynn jumps off the stool and backs up to look down the hallway.  “Seriously, you should go.”  

Brynn was right.  After the shut down of the economy in 2020, Kelly and Zack made the decision to move back to Chicago where Zack started teaching at DePaul for help with future college tuition.  Bekah and Jon hadn’t gotten away as much as they had in the past without taking the kids.  Taking a day and a half to go watch him play and enjoy dinner alone did sound amazing.  

“You sure Rin?”  Bekah sounded giddy.

“Yes, very much so.”  Brynn had wandered into the living room that was now the Sedona inspired room.  Prints hung of Jon and Bekah’s first trip, wedding day, the first time they took each kid and a family picture from the past summer when both kids hiked most of the way up.  “I like the new one!”

“Speaking of new ones.”  Jon’s stealth like entrance made both ladies jump.  “I have something for you, Babe.”  As he spoke, he pulls out a puck from his pocket.  Bekah spins it in her hand and tears come to her eyes.

“Lincoln’s first game 8U game. October 18, 2025.”  She sees that Jon had Lincoln sign the top too.  “Tae.”  She squeaks out.

“We might need a Lincoln shelf.”  Jon wraps his arms around his wife and pulls her in.

“Tell him!”  Brynn breaks the couple’s embrace as she spoke.  Jon looks down with his eyebrows raised.

“How about I come to St. Louis with you this week?”  Bekah stands on her tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “Just me.”

“YES!”  Jon shouts out.  “Seriously, Brynn?  You are making this happen?”  Jon turns and pulls her into a hug. 

“You two lovebirds...” Brynn started and looked at how Jon lifted Bekah up in the air in so much joy about a few moments alone. “Still after all these years I’m happy as hell for you but also your passion for one another is...” she starts making a heaving motion.

With that, Bekah and Brynn soaked up their time together. Let Lincoln take a day off school on Monday to play with what he calls his cousins. And really with David’s kids living in Manitoba, Kelly and Brynn’s kids were the closest thing he had to cousins near him.

Monday night was a home game. Jon rented a box and invited Kelly and her family to join. The kids had so much fun cheering on the Hawks. After years of going to games they still loved the atmosphere. Tuesday morning came quick. Bekah left a giant list of instructions for Brynn which made her laugh. Jon took Lincoln to school before taking a morning skate. They flew out that afternoon. Jon interlaced his fingers in Bekah’s as the plane took off.

“You look like a first time flyer Beks. What gives?” Jon kisses her ear sweetly.

“Just worried about the kids and Rin and...” Jon’s lips land on hers to stop the rant swirling from her brain to her lips.

“They will be fine. Promise.” Jon pulled his arm around her and she breathed him in. The flight was short and the drive to the hotel was too. “You know you’ve never stayed here but could’ve all those years ago. New Years. Winter Classic.” Jon places her bag on top of his and grabs his wife’s hand.

“Yeah, I didn’t make the wises choices back then.” Bekah whispered.

“You are here aren’t you? We are here... so those choices lead to now.” Jon’s knuckle pressed the button. “And while it took some convincing..”

“Sorry.” Bekah mumbled as she pressed their floor.

“Baby, don’t be.” Jon kisses the top of her head as the door opens and leads them to their room. Opening the door he drops the bags as Bekah closes the door. His body pressing hers agains the door and lips locked together. Pulling at her legs to wrap them around him. They break and Jon’s lips slide down her neck. A moan escapes from her lips.

“Tae.” She tries to continue but Jon’s lips are on hers again. His hands tight around her with the door holder her up. “Tae.” She moans out again. Jon leans back a little to look her in the eyes.

“Ca va, mon amour?” Jon leans back and takes in his wife.

“I’m okay. Extremely turned on but also slightly worried about your teammates hearing us as they check in. Plus, there are things I would like to do to you that I cannot do pinned to this door.” Bekah leans to bite at his lips.

“Well for starters we aren’t on the team floor. I made sure of that. Now, what things are you talking about?” Jon pulls both of their bodies away from the door and carries Bekah towards the bed.

“First, Captain,  I’d like you to rid you of these clothes.”  Bekah wiggles free of Jon’s grip and stands to her feet.  He grunts as she starts to take off his clothes.  Running her fingers over his still well toned abs followed by her tongue until her teeth find his boxers.  She pulls on them with only her mouth and Jon helps with an approving grunt.  “When is the last time we didn’t have rushed sex Tae?”

“Too long Beks.”  Jon barely gets out as his entire body reacts to Bekah’s lips running along the bottom of his shaft.  “C'est cela.”  He moans out as he finds the edge of the bed.  Bekah continues until she wraps her lips around him and he stops her.  “I need you undressed and up here.”  He lifts her up and slides her tunic dress over her body then her leggings.  “Damn sexy Baby.  Damn Sexy.”  He stands to carefully removing her bra then underwear kissing her skin as more is exposed.

“Really?”  Bekah questions placing her hands over her breasts.  “Sorry.  Just feeling not as perky as I once was.”  Bekah doesn’t look up at Jon with her admission.  He pulls her chin up to make her eyes meet his.

“Rebekah, you are more beautiful and sexy than ever.  I’m so fucking lucky you are mine.”  He shifts her to lay her on the bed and hovers over her body.

“I’m lucky too.  I just went from confident at hell to catching a glimpse of my stretch mark in the mirror.”  She ran her hand over the mentioned mark from her last pregnancy.  Jon met her hand with his lips.

“This means you worked hard to bring our sassy daughter into the world.”  Jon moves up to her breasts and sucks one in between his teeth.  “And I’m glad I currently don’t have to share these.”  Bekah’s breath hitches then she laughs as he moves to do the same to the other.  He kisses down her stomach and moves his way between her legs.  Spreading her lips with his fingers he sucks on her clit causing Bekah’s hips to jump off the bed and her hand to land in his hair.  Jon hums in approval.  He moves his fingers to scissor deep inside her.  Bekah went to call out his name and bit her lip.  Jon looked up and kissed her thigh.  “Beks, no one to wake up.  Let me hear you.”  He moved back to circling Bekah’s clit with his tongue as she moaned out.  

“Tae.  Fuck.  Tae.”  Bekah feels her orgasm crashing over her.  Jon doesn’t let up as it washes over her.  Her legs tremble and toes curl up his back.  She loosens her grip and he quickly shifts up her body to press himself fully in her.  Both moaning in the familiarity and need for each other.  Jon presses his lips to hers and stays there.  “Tae, move please.” Bekah tries to press her hips up and Jon smiles.

“I love you Beks.” He simply says as he pulls out slightly and starts a rhythm making both moan and spill out affirmations in the moment.  Jon feels Bekah tighten completely around him and with a few more movements of his hips they both hit their high.  Jon crashing into Bekah’s body, chests heaving from the intensity.  They stay like this for a moment then a beeping sound starts in the direction of the pile of clothes.

“Tae, what is that?”  Bekah questions and Jon laughed.  “What?”

“I set an alarm to make sure we made it to team dinner.”  Jon moves to find his phone.  Turning off the alarm he looks at a notification.  “Oh, dinner on our own.  Fantastic!”  He jumps back in bed and wraps Bekah up.

“Can we still go get dinner?”  Bekah asks.

“Or order in.”  A sly smile crosses Jon’s face and Bekah nods.  “Hey, did you tell Brynn we were trying for a third already?”

“No, why do you ask?”  Bekah looks up at him.

“Well she mentioned the whole naming of kids thing and Seattle plus she suggested this trip...”  Jon trails off.

“Oh, no, but she’s Rin.  I swear she knows things without me telling her.”  Bekah jokes.  “Oh, shit.  What time is it?”  She looks at Jon’s phone.  “Get your shirt on, we need to FaceTime the kids!”  Jon heads to his luggage and quickly pulls out two Hawks shirts.  He starts to FaceTime and Bekah looks at her now sexed looking hair and quickly braids it to the side just in time.

“Hey guys!”  Jon waves at the screen seeing Brynn, Lincoln and Scarlett sitting on the couch.  Bekah notices Brynn’s face with Lincoln asked what they have done since they got there and Jon talked about getting to the hotel and checking in.  The family talked for a little and said their goodbyes.  Jon gets up to head to the shower and looks back.

“J’ai besoin de nous.”  Bekah whispers just looking at the floor.  

“Babe, did you just say I need us?”  Jon comes back over and pulls her up to his chest.

“Yeah.  That’s right, right?”  Bekah bats her eyes.

“It is.  You are picking up more French from my mom’s FaceTime lessons with Lincoln aren’t you?”  Jon kisses her cheek and she feels the heat rushing to them.

“Yeah.  Speaking of, he said, ‘j’ai mon voyage’ and also ‘tabarnak’ the other day.”  Jon starts laughing.  Hard.  “Shit, what did he pick up?”  

“Well, I had enough is basically what j’ai mon voyage means and...as for the other.  I’ll talk to my parents.  I’m sure they didn’t mean to teach him what some deem a cuss word.”  Bekah’s mouth hangs open.  “Babe, I’ll fix it, okay?”  He moves her braid and kisses her again.  “Back to the I need us.  Explain.”

“Just that.  I need us.  I love our family and our life and even this team but at the end of the day it’s me and you.”  She spins her ring around her finger.

“Well, Beks... J’ai besoin de nous too.”  Jon whispers.  “I told you hockey is almost over and then it’s just us being parents and husband and wife.”

“You really think you are done Tae?”  Bekah questions.

“Yeah.  Dach is ready to be captain.  I have four rings.  Kaner and I are talking about going out together.  This team has what it takes to win another one too.  Now, I would love baby number three to experience some of this hockey life.”  Jon rubs Bekah’s lower abdomen.

“Are you asking if you think that got me pregnant?”  Bekah laughs and Jon nods.  “Well, you might have to try harder Mr. Toews.”  She smirks and heads towards the shower.  “And if so... I’m not naming the baby Louis!”  

“Death of me Beks.  You will be the death of me!”  Jon scoops Bekah up and heads towards the shower.  

#jonathan toews fic #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️ #j toews #What's in a name fic #WIAN epilogue #finally letting it out #maybe more to come

[1-800-imagines]

after charming - ch 1 (ez reyes fic)

authors note: MAJOR spoilers for SOA, set in Mayans season 1. 

Then

“I can’t stay here anymore. It just reminds me of everyone I’ve lost,” Meredith said through her tears. Charming was her personal Hell. She had lost her mother, her father, and now her older brother. She also had custody of Abel and Thomas. Mer wasn’t ready for any of this. She wasn’t ready to be a mother basically, but she couldn’t stay in Charming where death and destruction was constantly looming. 

“I know lassie,” Chibs said, pulling Meredith Teller into a hug and kissing her forehead. “I wish you would stay close. You’re family and so are the boys.” She knew he was right. She wanted to stay, but everything told her not to. 

“I know, but everyone’s dead. How am I supposed to raise them where death is all around them Chibs? I can’t do it.” 

Now 

It had been 4 years since Meredith had left Charming with Abel and Thomas. Abel was 8 and Thomas was 6. At first, Meredith had no idea where she had planned on going. She went on the coast and rented a beach house where she just grieved all her losses. She had also lost Juice whom she was extremely close to. She wanted to stay with the rest of the guys, but it broke her heart being there and the boys needed a fresh start.

Once it was time for Thomas to officially start Kindergarten is when Meredith got her ass in gear about settling down and buying a house. She wasn’t ever short on money because the guys took care of her, sending her a cut. Chibs had also suggested that she reach out to Marcus Alvarez, someone who respected Jax deeply.

So now, here she was, packing her stuff again and heading to Santo Padre, where Marcus recommended, to get their fresh start. She always loved being around the MC and knew Marcus was the founder of the Mayans. There was a branch of the MC in Santo Padre and she was sure she would eventually be introduced to them. Marcus had assured her that no one would mess with her and had set her up with a house in a neighborhood close to the clubhouse. Little did she know that he would also be moving to Santo Padre to be working for Miguel Galindo soon.  

The little family of three was working their butts off moving boxes in from the moving trucks, trying to get everything ready. Meredith was used to doing things by herself. She saved the majority of the money that the club sent her for when the boys got older or when she needed to take them to the doctor and she made her own money working side jobs she could get.

Mer knew she needed to get a job that she could work while the boys were in school and then be home when they got home. It wouldn’t bring in a lot of money, but anything would be better than nothing. 

Meredith Teller was only 28, being only 24 when she started to take care of her brother’s two children. She had been trying to become an artist, but put her dreams on hold for the boys. 

Meredith grunted as she picked up a heavy box and put it inside when she heard motorcycles pulling up. She basically dropped the box and grabbed both boys hands, thinking it might be everyone coming to see them. She ran back out the door and noticed different motorcycles than what SAMCRO rode. 

She pulled Thomas up to her hip and held Abel’s hand. She knew they weren’t going to be a threat but still. She honestly looked like shit to be meeting the Mayans for the first time. She had tiny shorts on and a tank top with her hair thrown up half-hazardly. 

She counted four men pulling up to her house. She watched closely when they stepped off their motorcycles. One man stepped forward, “Meredith Teller?” 

She nodded and looked at them all. “Yeah that’s me,” She said back, not asking who they were yet. Abel watched and so did Thomas. 

“I’m Obispo Losa. Marcus’ cousin. President of the Mayans chapter here in Santo Padre. You can call me Bishop. He said you might need some help moving in today.” He said, walking forward to shake her hand. 

Meredith relaxed a little and smiled, “Nice to meet you Bishop.” She shook his hand, unlinking hands with Abel for a second. 

He crouched down for a second, “Hi buddy, I’m Bishop. What’s your name?” Mer smiled as he interacted with Abel. 

“I’m Abel. That’s my brother, Thomas.” He said pointing to Thomas who was burying his head in Meredith’s shoulder. 

“Well it’s very nice to meet both of you boys.” Bishop smiled softly. He ruffled Abel’s hair. He stood back up, “These are 3 of my guys here to help. Angel, Coco and Ez.” 

“Hi,” Meredith said looking at each of them and slightly blushing when she looked at the one named Ez who was already smiling at her. She immediately changed the topic, “Well we have a lot of boxes and a lot to unpack. Who wants to show them their rooms?” Mer said and jiggled Thomas a little. 

He looked up a little and smiled. Abel took off running with Bishop, Coco and Angel following. Ez stayed and approached the two of them. Thomas hid his head again. “Hey buddy, do you wanna show me your room? She can come with us too.” He smiled as his eyes shifted from Thomas to Mer. 

Thomas nodded and scooted down from Mer’s arms. He grabbed her hand and Ez’s hand and started to lead them into the house. 

After Thomas got done showing them his room and talking up a storm, he went to go find Abel. Meredith looked at Ez and almost broke into tears, “Thank you.” He was taken aback by her reaction. 

“He never opens up like that. I’m not their mom. I’m just their aunt and I barely know what I’m doing even though I’ve had them for four years.” She wiped a tear falling from her eyes. “He’s so attached to me. He doesn’t remember his mom so I’m mommy to him and I feel like I’m fucking him up even more.”

Ez took her shoulders, “Hey, you’re doing a great job. The kid obviously loves you. They both do. You stepped up and that’s what counts. It doesn’t matter if you’re their birth mom or not. You are their mother and father figure. I can tell that just the 20 minutes I’ve been here.”

Mer nodded, getting ahold of herself, “I’m sorry. I don’t normally cry to strangers. I normally save that for 3 weeks in.” She joked. 

Ez smiled, “It’s okay. We all have our moments.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Alvarez was friends with your brother so you’re a friend to the club. We’re gonna be here for you and the boys. I’ll check with Bishop but the three of you guys should come by on Friday.”

Meredith nodded again, “Yeah okay, that would be great.” She sucked in a breath and wiped her tears. “Thank you, Ez.” She leaned close to him and kissed him on the cheek before walking out of the room.

tags: @gemini0410​ @greatestfanfiction @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @starrynite7114

#ez reyes #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes imagines #ez reyes fanfic #ez reyes x meredith #ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes fanfiction #ez reyes fanfiction #mayans imagine #mayans imagines #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc imagines #ez reyes mayans

[agentrouka-blog]

ASOIAF - Dany and the persimmons of doom

The persimmon is mentioned 13 times, 12 times in Dany chapters.

What’s a Persimmon?

The word Diospyros comes from the ancient Greek words "dios" (δῐος) and "pyron" (πῡρον). A popular etymology construed this as "divine fruit", or as meaning "wheat of Zeus" or "God's pear" and "Jove's fire". The dio-, as shown by the short vowel 'i', has nothing to do with 'divine' (δῑoς ), dio- being an affix attached to plant names, and in classical Greek the compound referred to "the fruit of the nettle tree". 

The word persimmon itself is derived from putchamin, pasiminan, or pessamin, from Powhatan, an Algonquian language of the eastern United States, meaning "a dry fruit".

The name was misconstrued to mean something a lot more elevated, something divine, olympian, fiery and impressive, when it really is a lot more basic than that. 

Kind of loving where this is headed already.

(Long, because many quotes.) 

The first and only persimmon mention outside of a Dany chapter is in AGOT, Eddard V. It’s contained in a list of offered refreshments by Pycelle, while Ned has gone to him to inquire about Jon Arryn’s death.

"Lord Arryn's death was a great sadness for all of us, my lord," Grand Maester Pycelle said. "I would be more than happy to tell you what I can of the manner of his passing. Do be seated. Would you care for refreshments? Some dates, perhaps? I have some very fine persimmons as well. Wine no longer agrees with my digestion, I fear, but I can offer you a cup of iced milk, sweetened with honey. I find it most refreshing in this heat."

 (AGOT, Eddard V)

Things in a list are, in my opinion, very often symbolically loaded. 

Dates. Persimmons. Milk sweetened with honey.

Dates, counting just the actual fruit, are also most heavily associated with Dany (7 mentions) and to a lesser degree Tyrion (3 mentions) and Arys Oakheart and Arianne (1 each). Also, Dorne in general. 

Milk with honey, which is what Ned ends up choosing, as a combination is associated with Brienne, Jaime and the Riverland mess, oddly enough, and, sweetened milk in general also with the suppression of Sweetrobin (sweetsleep). I’m sticking to the persimmon for now.

So, what are persimmons about for Dany? 

The first mention occurs in Qarth, close to the beginning of Daenerys III.

Descendants of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth, the Pureborn commanded the Civic Guard and the fleet of ornate galleys that ruled the straits between the seas. Daenerys Targaryen had wanted that fleet, or part of it, and some of their soldiers as well. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones.  

(ACOK, Daenerys III)

Another list. Hmm...

A sacrifice in the Temple of Memory... (If I look back, I am lost. What was Hazzea’s name again?)

A bribe to the Keeper of the Long List. (Keeper of lists... Arya keeps a kill list. Other list keepers might be the maesters at the Citadel for marriages births and deaths. There are two specifically mentioned “long lists”, Pycelle’s list of people who should swear fealty to Joffrey, and Hizdahr’s list of Dany’s enemies after smashing the slave trade.)

A persimmon to the Opener of Doors. (The red door likely foreshadows her Burning of King’s Landing, which is what I think this refers to. Elsewise, Jon significantly opened the gates of the Wall for the wildlings to march through. Jon, and Dany both open doors in significant dreams or visions.)

Then she receives the blue silk slippers and is summoned to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones. (Blue silk is heavily associated with Sansa, where it’s associated with catastrophe, violence, betrayal and defeat. To a lesser degree same for Brienne and Cersei. And the blue bard. This is not a happy fabric.)

But anyway, so the persimmon is associated with the Opening Of The Door. And what else?

The Pureborn reject Dany’s offerings and do not give her a fleet. She grumbles. She contemplates returning to Vaes Tolorro and making a home there but rejects the idea. Xaro asks her to marry him. A lot. Quaithe says reaches out to her again and gives her the “To go North you must go south etc” prophecy. She decides to go see the HOTU. (Destruction will follow.)

So, persimmon -> rejecting non-conquering path. And Quaithe egging her on.

Next Mention, still in Qarth. The persimmon opens the chapter.

She was breaking her fast on a bowl of cold shrimp-and-persimmon soup when Irri brought her a Qartheen gown, an airy confection of ivory samite patterned with seed pearls. "Take it away," Dany said. "The docks are no place for lady's finery."

If the Milk Men thought her such a savage, she would dress the part for them. When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals.  

(ACOK, Daenerys V)

She consumes persimmon, and returns to her Dothraki garb, rejects Xaro’s proposal of marriage, finds herself unloved by the smallfolk of Qarth and pressured to leave. 

They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her.

Xaro refuses to help her get a fleet. She contemplates the visons in the HOTU. We get a book series title drop. 

“I remember,” Dany said sadly. “They murdered Rhaegar’s daughter as well, the Little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon’s sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?” 

“It’s no song I’ve ever heard.”

Dany wanders the docks and meets Barristan Selmy and Strong Belwas, who save her from a poison assassination attempt by the Sorrowful Men. Selmy and Belwas were sent by Magister Illyrio along with three ships. She accepts them, and renames them for the three conquering dragons Vhagar, Meraxes, Balerion. 

So, all in all we are on theme here with Dany embracing her inner dragon and rejecting alternative options of making a home. Aegon the Conquerer with Teats it is. Thank you, persimmon.

Next up, A Storm of Swords. Dany goes Unsullied-shopping in Astapor. The persimmon is at the beginning of the chapter.

“Your ears heard true,” said Dany. “I want to buy them all. Tell the Good Masters, if you will.”

She had chosen a Qartheen gown today. The deep violet silk brought out the purple of her eyes. The cut of it bared her left breast. While the Good Masters of Astapor conferred among themselves in low voices, Dany sipped tart persimmon wine from a tall silver flute. She could not quite make out all that they were saying, but she could hear the greed.  

(...)

Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. The city had a hundred slave traders, but the eight before her were the greatest. When selling bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, and tutors, these men were rivals, but their ancestors had allied one with the other for the purpose of making and selling the Unsullied. Brick and blood built Astapor, and brick and blood her people. 

(…)

Two thousand would never serve for what she meant to do. I must have them all. Dany knew what she must do now, though the taste of it was so bitter that even the persimmon wine could not cleanse it from her mouth. She had considered long and hard and found no other way. It is my only choice. "Give me all," she said, "and you may have a dragon."

(…)

“Missandei is no longer a slave. I free you, from this instant. Come ride with me in the litter, I wish to talk.” Rakharo helped them in, and Dany drew the curtains shut against the dust and heat. “If you stay with me you will serve as one of my handmaids,” she said as they set off. “I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to.” “This one will stay,” the girl said. “This one … I … there is no place for me to go. This … I will serve you, gladly.”

(ASOS, Daenerys III)

Persimmon & “buy them all, have them all, give me all” on triple display. Gee, I wonder if we will have another dragon escalation coming up?

Also, Dany’s special brand of slave liberation is in full swing. You are free to leave - with no alternatives provided for you. Or stay and serve as my “handmaid”. Ask Irri what that means.

The night before the transaction, she dreams she is Rhaegar on dragonback, bathing her enemies in dragonfire. A good dream, for Dany. She gets a visit from Quaithe. The next day, she dresses in Dothraki garb again. Fire and Blood.

“Unsullied!” Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air … and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” “Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire.

It would appear that the persimmons signal the proximity of a dragon escalation. Persimmons always appear at the beginning of a chapter where Dany chooses Dothraki garb and dragonfire. 

Does it hold up?

A newly conquered Meereen has the next persimmon mention right at the top of the chapter:

Dany broke her fast under the persimmon tree that grew in the terrace garden, watching her dragons chase each other about the apex of the Great Pyramid where the huge bronze harpy once stood. Meereen had a score of lesser pyramids, but none stood even half as tall. From here she could see the whole city: 

(…) 

And beyond the walls was the pewter sea, the winding Skahazadhan, the dry brown hills, burnt orchards, and blackened fields. Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.  

(…)

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror.

(…)

“My city,” said Dany. “I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.”

“A red door?” Missandei was puzzled. “What house is this?” “No house. It does not matter.” Dany took the younger girl by the hand. “Never lie to me, Missandei. Never betray me.”

"I never would," Missandei promised. "Look, dawn comes."

(…)

 On the terrace, a few flies stirred sluggishly. A bird began to chirp in the persimmon tree, and then two more. Dany cocked her head to hear their song, but it was not long before the sounds of the waking city drowned them out.

The sounds of my city. 

(…)

“What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo. “Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

(ASOS, Daenerys VI)

After the first persimmon mention, she reflects on the conquest of Meereen in a terrible, savage sack. (Incidentally, using the same kinds of weapons to attack their gate as Jon defends against the Wildling attack on the Wall, specifically the “turtle” and ram. Jon/Dany romantic foreshadowing, surely.) 

Persimmon ->  Dragon and dothraki. Yes, it holds up.

But there is a second persimmon mention. Persimmons in the middle of a chapter tend to signal a rejection of the dragon path. 

After a series of bad news from Astapor and beyond, making her question the success of her actions, she decides to change her plans. The birds draw her attention to the persimmon tree of dragon escalation BUT the sounds of her city drown them out. She turns away from the siren call. She decides to try and responsibly deal with actual ruling. 

So far, so on theme. Will the persimmons make a comeback when Dany re-dragons? Yes. Yes, they will. 

ADWD gives us more persimmons. Many more.

Daenerys II. Middle-chapter persimmon -> Dragon rejection.

She is unrestful. The Sons of the Harpy killed Missandei’s brother, and many more. She agrees to have a suspect’s young daughter tortured to get answers. She grows very tired of ruling. She struggles to comfort Missandei who asserts Dany’s Mhysa identity. But Dany is lonely and longs to be loved, longs for Daario. She takes a bath and, hello, Quaithe!

A woman stood under the persimmon tree, clad in a hooded robe that brushed the grass. Beneath the hood, her face seemed hard and shiny. She is wearing a mask, Dany knew, a wooden mask finished in dark red lacquer. "Quaithe? Am I dreaming?" She pinched her ear and winced at the pain. "I dreamt of you on Balerion, when first we came to Astapor."

 (…)

“Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are.” “The blood of the dragon.” But my dragons are roaring in the darkness. “I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …”

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood in the door of the queen's bedchamber, a lantern in her hand. "Who are you talking to?"

Dany glanced back toward the persimmon tree. There was no woman there. No hooded robe, no lacquer mask, no Quaithe.

A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once. "I was praying," she told the Naathi girl. "It will be light soon. I had best eat something, before court." 

(…)

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

(…)

I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

(ADWD, Daenerys II)

Dany is chaving under the pressures of ruling, already resorting back to cruelty, and under the persimmon tree, Quaithe beckons and tries to lure her back down the dragon path. Dany hesitates. She considers Hizdahr’s 7th proposal to open the fighting pits and questions Ser Barristan on his escape from Joffrey. She visits her dragons and questions herself, harshly. 

This chapter is one big hope spot before it all goes to ashes.  

Daenerys III. Closer to the beginning of the chapter, but not quite up there. -> less enthusiastic dragon rejection.

A banquet to honor the visit of Xaro from Qarth. Sensual dancing. Food and trade on the forefront of Dany’s mind, longing for Daaaaario in the background. 

Daenerys held out her cup for Irri to refill. The wine was sweet and strong, redolent with the smell of eastern spices, much superior to the thin Ghiscari wines that had filled her cup of late. Xaro perused the fruits on the platter Jhiqui offered him and chose a persimmon. Its orange skin matched the color of the coral in his nose. He took a bite and pursed his lips. "Tart."

"Would my lord prefer something sweeter?" 

“Sweetness cloys. Tart fruit and tart women give life its savor.” Xaro took another bite, chewed, swallowed. “Daenerys, sweet queen, I cannot tell you what pleasure it gives me to bask once more in your presence. A child departed Qarth, as lost as she was lovely. I feared she was sailing to her doom, yet now I find her here enthroned, mistress of an ancient city, surrounded by a mighty host that she raised up out of dreams.” No, she thought, out of blood and fire.

(ADWD, Daenerys III)

Tart v. sweet. Right now, a sweet queen? The persimmons beckon. She and Xaro philosophize on the relative merits of slavery. He would buy olives, she has to wait seven years for the newly planted trees to bear fruit. She hears of all the alliances made against her. Then he offers her a fleet to leave Slaver’s Bay and go home. Selmy likes the idea. Dany is sorely tempted, but the swirling rumors cause her court to question her and she lets go of the plans. She rejects Xaro’s tart persimmon-flavored offer of sailing off to conquer elsewhere. Xaro regrets not having killed her in Qarth. They part on bad Terms, she receives declaration of war the next morning.

Daenerys IX. The persimmon’s open the chapter. Uh oh.

The sky was a merciless blue, without a wisp of cloud in sight. The bricks will soon be baking in the sun, thought Dany. Down on the sands, the fighters will feel the heat through the soles of their sandals.

Jhiqui slipped Dany's silk robe from her shoulders and Irri helped her into her bathing pool. The light of the rising sun shimmered on the water, broken by the shadow of the persimmon tree. "Even if the pits must open, must Your Grace go yourself?" asked Missandei as she was washing the queen's hair.

(...)

My handmaids are Dothraki, she told herself. Death rides with every khalasar. The day she wed Khal Drogo, the arakhs had flashed at her wedding feast, and men had died whilst others drank and mated. Life and death went hand in hand amongst the horselords, and a sprinkling of blood was thought to bless a marriage. Her new marriage would soon be drenched in blood. How blessed it would be.

(…)

He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I. Daenerys Targaryen vaulted onto the dragon’s back, seized the spear, and ripped it out. The point was half-melted, the iron red-hot, glowing. She flung it aside. Drogon twisted under her, his muscles rippling as he gathered his strength. The air was thick with sand. Dany could not see, she could not breathe, she could not think. The black wings cracked like thunder, and suddenly the scarlet sands were falling away beneath her. Dizzy, Dany closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she glimpsed the Meereenese beneath her through a haze of tears and dust, pouring up the steps and out into the streets. The lash was still in her hand. She flicked it against Drogon’s neck and cried, “Higher!” Her other hand clutched at his scales, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Drogon’s wide black wings beat the air. Dany could feel the heat of him between her thighs. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. Yes, she thought, yes, now, now, do it, do it, take me, take me, FLY!

(ADWD, Daenerys IX)

Well. I’d say the pattern fits. Persimmon tree shadow breaks the image of a new dawn on the water, dothraki references, FIRE AND BLOOD.

And her final ADWD chapter? 

Daenerys X. Persimmon joins us close to the beginning of the chapter, but not quite at the top. But Dany makes up for that with enthusiasm.

Hers had been a lonely sojourn, and for most of it she had been hurt and hungry … yet despite it all she had been strangely happy here. A few aches, an empty belly, chills by night … what does it matter when you can fly? I would do it all again.

Jhiqui and Irri would be waiting atop her pyramid back in Meereen, she told herself. Her sweet scribe Missandei as well, and all her little pages. They would bring her food, and she could bathe in the pool beneath the persimmon tree. It would be good to feel clean again. Dany did not need a glass to know that she was filthy.

She was hungry too. One morning she had found some wild onions growing halfway down the south slope, and later that same day a leafy reddish vegetable that might have been some queer sort of cabbage. Whatever it was, it had not made her sick. Aside from that, and one fish that she had caught in the spring-fed pool outside of Drogon's cave, she had survived as best she could on the dragon's leavings, on burned bones and chunks of smoking meat, half-charred and half-raw. She needed more, she knew. One day she kicked at a cracked sheep's skull with the side of a bare foot and sent it bouncing over the edge of the hill. And as she watched it tumble down the steep slope toward the sea of grass, she realized she must follow.

Dany set off through the tall grass at a brisk pace. The earth felt warm between her toes. The grass was as tall as she was. It never seemed so high when I was mounted on my silver, riding beside my sun-and-stars at the head of his khalasar. As she walked, she tapped her thigh with the pitmaster’s whip. That, and the rags on her back, were all she had taken from Meereen.

(…)

Below, she saw men whirling, wreathed in flame, hands up in the air as if caught in the throes of some mad dance. A woman in a green tokar reached for a weeping child, pulling him down into her arms to shield him from the flames. Dany saw the color vividly, but not the woman’s face. People were stepping on her as they lay tangled on the bricks. Some were on fire. Then all of that had faded, the sounds dwindling, the people shrinking, the spears and arrows falling back beneath them as Drogon clawed his way into the sky. Up and up and up he’d borne her, high above the pyramids and pits, his wings outstretched to catch the warm air rising from the city’s sun baked bricks. If I fall and die, it will still have been worth it, she had thought.

(…)

No, Dany told herself. If I look back I am lost. She might live for years amongst the sunbaked rocks of Dragonstone, riding Drogon by day and gnawing at his leavings every evenfall as the great grass sea turned from gold to orange, but that was not the life she had been born to.

(…)

“Quaithe?” Dany called. “Where are you, Quaithe?” Then she saw. Her mask is made of starlight. “Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”

(…)

“Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away.

(…)

Never, said the grass, in the gruff tones of Jorah Mormont. You were warned, Your Grace. Let this city be, I said. Your war is in Westeros, I told you.

(…)

As the western sky turned the color of a blood bruise, she heard the sound of approaching horses. Dany rose, wiped her hands on her ragged undertunic, and went to stand beside her dragon. That was how Khal Jhaqo found her, when half a hundred mounted warriors emerged from the drifting smoke.

(ADWD, Daenerys X)

She WANTS the persimmon tree. There is the Dothraki environment. She WANTS Quaithe. She starts acting like a literal dragon, nesting, eating Drogon’s leavings, wanders the grasslands half-crazed, suffery dysentery, miscarries (Mhysa v. Mother of Dragons) and makes her sacrifice to the Temple of Memory (Hazzea), which was the first step to the Hall of Thousand Thrones in Qarth. 

Next up, a bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, persimmon to the Opener of (Red) Doors and then it’s Hello, Blue Silk Slippers of (stabbing) Doom in the Hall of Thousand Thrones. 

Considering how consistent the theme of the persimmon is, I’m kind of excited about it seeing how GRRM will use it in TWOW and ADOS.  

Next up I think I’ll look at the context of dates, and milk with honey, just to find out why GRRM chose to have Ned reject the persimmons and dates and did let him choose the milk and honey, in that very first mention. Iced milk and honey. 

#asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #persimmon #foreshadowing #fruit symbolism

[rainstormcolors]

@a-white-ravenstag​ asked: “RE: the ships discussion... Prideshipping/Timeshipping, or maybe Scandalshipping since I haven’t seen a lot of people talk about that one!"

The relationship between Atem and Seto Kaiba is genuinely one of the most complex relationships in the original story. It’s layered and has additional layers of interpretation to it.

And it’s my favorite relationship in fiction. Not that I’m arguing it’s the best one, but it’s my favorite.

I’m going to combine the things I’ve said before and smooth them out, and try to tackle a bit of this complexity. This will be like something of a master post I suppose (it’s long).

Lost Names, Lost Selves

There’s a parallel in how Atem and Seto both gave up their names and were then trapped inside prisons. They freed themselves in part but not wholly, and across the series carried the names of others as their own.

Atem searched for his true name, while Seto battled to feel at peace with his own namesake. One returned to his birth name as he remembered who he was; the other wanted harmony with his new name, to not give up what he’s gained but understanding the price and recovering the pieces of himself he’s lost.

They lost and found themselves.

Seto’s Attachment to Atem

Seto is a character so closed off, so cocooned in mistrust, who shoves everybody away. Seto has difficulty connecting and forming attachments to people, but Atem became someone he craved battle with, craved the challenge of.

Seto had been a keg of dynamite waiting for a match; Atem, a shadow himself, threw the match.

Atem became a focal point for Seto once he defeated Seto at cards and lashed out at him with his cruel penalty game, and this encounter would act as the catalyst for so many different things.

Atem became a target for all the boiling rage that had built up inside of Seto like a pressure cooker. But from there, with each encounter, their relationship evolved into something far more complex and meaningful. The obsession with domination and the human connection in the challenge were a duality. It was detrimental and provoking and exhilarating and rewarding all at once.

Something these two share, and only these two share, is a dependence on games to communicate, as both have a stunted relationship with the world around them. It’s something only they can understand.

Atem was invigorated by his duels with Seto as well. They felt alive.

I feel like this duel is emblematic of Atem and Seto’s entire relationship; how enthralled they are by each other, how they push each another to their limits of both their best and worst, and also their capacity to wound one another. Neither one set out to have this duel in these circumstances. They were blackmailed, with the souls of their loved ones on the line, and yet for so much of the duel they were enjoying themselves. They were enjoying dueling each other. But things became desperate as Seto found himself backed into a corner and suddenly it wasn’t fun anymore.

I’m curious how other people take Seto’s taunts here. I have the impression that in his own way he’s giving Atem permission to strike the final blow, telling him it’s the correct thing to do. Seto really has reduced his life to the value of a bargaining chip. I don’t think the narrative could’ve possibly made it any clearer that Seto was 100% committed to fulfilling his threat if Atem’s attack went through. At the same time, I don’t think Seto felt it would be a tragedy were he to die after losing. (The tragedy instead was in failing Mokuba.)

Don’t be mistaken: Seto is the one who raised the stake of this duel to be the price of a life and it was cruel to put Atem in that place. Of course, Atem chose to pay this price in his own hunger and desperation to win. Both of them agreed to the price of a life to win.

Atem’s choice was reckless and cruel. I think he may have had the idea of it being about “duelist pride” on both sides; that cheating can’t be rewarded and that he’d won fair-and-square, and that Kaiba knew this as well. Thankfully Yugi interfered with this disturbing arrangement.

But Seto and Atem do grow from that dark place, and move forward to become better.

The notion that defeating Atem would quench Seto’s obsession with dominating everything like some wave of a magic wand is absurd. Only long introspection can do that, and long introspection may only be the start. But there was so much more to their rivalry than the obsession. It wasn’t cold at all. The line between obsession, admiration, and connection is blurred.

And then there’s this.

If Seto is a person who believes in relying on one’s own strength, who sees depending on others as weakness, why did he help Atem here? Surely if Atem had lost, he was never truly worthy of Seto’s attention to begin with and Malik should have become the new focal point. Instead, Seto wants it to be Atem. Seto breaking his own code and dropping hints to Atem during his duel against the mime was pivotal. But I don’t think Seto understood the significance of this gesture. Not consciously; not yet.

Seto very clearly asks Atem to challenge his worldview. He wants Atem to challenge him. I’ve said before that Battle City was Seto’s attempt at self-therapy, and him provoking Atem here is part of that.

That Seto listens to Atem is significant. Because Seto, so impossibly stubborn, is supposed to see comradery as weakness and yet…

In the end, Atem’s words do reach Seto’s heart. And at the end of BC, Seto understands that Atem was right all along. And he’s happy to realize it. And for that moment Seto didn’t feel so lonely.

I quite like this scene in YGO R as well, a series overseen by Kazuki Takahashi. The softness in Seto’s reaction is something we’ve never seen before. He’s vulnerable, he knows he’s vulnerable, but he doesn’t try to cover it up or lash out:

The question becomes, when did the attachment form? When did it become about more than just winning? And when did Seto consciously realize it?

Seto is a person who refused to acknowledge sentiment and seemed lacking in self-awareness about his own loneliness. But across canon he was chasing Atem, chasing these moments of connection through dueling.

Atem ignited Seto from his dark numbness, pulling him out of his isolation. By defeating him, Seto’s eyes were forced onto Atem and his own vulnerabilities were exposed in a way he couldn’t ignore. As Seto struggled to save himself, Atem—for as self-righteous as he could be—turned Seto towards something brighter and in the end Seto actually listened to him. In turn, Seto validated Atem’s existence. Out of everyone, Seto was the one who valued Atem over Yugi, and he valued Atem for all the ways he was unique from Yugi as Atem struggled to find his own identity. Both Atem and Seto begin their stories as damaged wrathful children lashing out from their dark voids and it’s an absolute mess, but together they’re able to grow from that place. Their rivalry was passionate and exhilarating. And they left imprints on each other.

Is Atem dueling Seto enabling of his mental illness? Can a relationship be both beneficial and detrimental at the same time? These are valid points. But Atem himself seems compelled to duel Seto. And Atem is someone who sincerely wishes the best for Seto.

Atem Was Connected to Seto as Well

Atem felt the pull of friendship with Kaiba, and he recognized he needed Kaiba to grow into who he had become, to stand where he stood. They followed each other. They’ve seen each other at their worst, but they’ve followed each other to their bests. The line was blurry for Atem too, but Seto was important to him. He needed that challenge and he needed validation himself, through battle with Seto.

There’s an argument for how well Atem handled Seto during this duel but Atem wanted to help him, and Atem had been asked by Seto to challenge him.

I really love that confrontation in the tower between Seto and Isis, because it’s the culmination of everything that’s been pulling Seto forwards. It’s not any one thing that causes him to return to the arena, but rather it’s everything. It’s about understanding the value of living, it’s about listening to Mokuba, it’s about his bond with Atem, it’s about the miracle of human connections that Seto has both fought so hard against and fought so hard to understand. That’s why he goes back to give Atem The Devil’s Sanctuary card.

Seto gives him The Devil’s Sanctuary card as a test of their bond. And Atem in turn shows a gesture of pure trust in Seto as he accepts this card. And these moments confirmed his trust and bond towards Seto. It was the pulse of their bond he felt.

Atem, like Seto, is a struggling teenager as well, and in the end they reached each other. In the end, they reached each other’s hearts.

Seto Always Knew Yugi and Atem were Separate

Seto himself specifically differentiates between the two Yugis across the story.

He references “The Other Yugi” at the end of the pier duel in anime canon as well.

Most damning is that he knows Atem’s existence was granted by the Millennium Puzzle, well before the events of DSoD.

Let’s put this bad argument to rest.

Seto Loves Atem

That he’d only realize the full depth of his feelings for Atem after Atem’s departure falls in line with everything else we’ve seen of Seto Kaiba, whether those feelings are platonic in nature or something else. We watch Seto become more and more aware of his emotions over the course of the series, and it makes sense that his resistance to just how much he cares only crumbles once it’s too late. He’s a character who generally feels so little for people, almost as a survival mechanism, so the bond he built with Atem is striking and haunts him. It’s overwhelming to him to realize this significance of another person. In truth, I would argue that Seto himself doesn’t know how he feels for Atem. He doesn’t know if it’s passion for their rivalry or if it’s platonic love or if it’s romantic love. These kinds of emotions are so new and alien to him. It’s not just that he’s been sexually repressed. He’s repressed so much of every emotion and in the tragedy of losing Atem the dam finally bursts. Confusion, loneliness, doubt, outrage, feelings of betrayal, denial, and love. It’s an aching mess.

Seto is like a sort of wounded animal in the subbed movie, morose and impatient and desperate. He lashes out at Yugi, who he in passing acknowledges as having beaten Atem, but only in passing as he enters the sacred grounds of the Millennium Items. He doesn’t care about that victory. He does know Atem lost a game and then “died.” (Is Atem dead? Is Atem a god?)

Kaiba has always been a character exploring the interplay of cruelty and vulnerability, and how cruelty can be an expression of vulnerability.

His speech in the sub is an introspection, reflective of his place in the series, initially a person who functioned by violence, but now carrying a new understanding of how futile and hopeless violence is. Even winning is futile and meaningless.

Seto has been betrayed so many times in his life, and he’s now been deeply wounded by Atem’s departure, yet another betrayal in the chain. He feels abandoned. He calls flesh a prison of the soul, and later proclaims Atem will be a prisoner of the Millennium Puzzle. These lines of dialogue are an expression of mourning for Atem and an expression of rage. It is also Seto acknowledging that what he’s attempting to do is also a betrayal.

The duel with Yugi is a conversation of grief, where he lets these emotions spill.

Of course in the end, Seto is still the one who proposes the team-up to Yugi. He’s still the one who sacrifices himself. He’s still the one who believed in Atem. He had faith in Atem in the end, and Atem returned to save them.

The trust Atem had given to him, Seto returns to Atem.

I’ve said before The Darkside of Dimensions confirms to me Seto loves Atem. I stand by that. The desperation and longing, sheer longing. When Seto’s cornered in his duel against Diva, his thoughts of Atem are what inspire him to make such an improbable move. His expression when Yugi completes the Millennium Puzzle is heartbreaking. Denial, mania, and bargaining are the well-documented marks of grief. All the while, Seto has no interest in Yugi as a player and no interest in Yugi’s title. Their duel isn’t given a proper conclusion but Seto has no interest in a rematch, because it was never about the card game.

It’s fair to say Seto clinging to Atem like this isn’t healthy. It’s completely unfair to dismiss those emotions as meaningless.

In DSoD, there’s so much desperation and such deep wounds; Atem has hurt Seto, and Seto attempts to betray Atem, but in the end they’re quietly smiling at each other. They’ve fought so hard to be here, with so much struggle and pain, and they haven’t even bandaged their wounds, but just seeing each other has made everything worthwhile. And it’s just this gorgeous moment of complete forgiveness and understanding and connection.

I’ve found you.

#meta garbage #atem #seto kaiba #prideshipping

[catphistopheles]

I wrote a Thing. And if there is any expressed interest in this Thing, I will continue to add little installments on Tumblr. It’s a heteronormative romantic comedy, kinda tropey, but it’s something I really wanted to type out and have fun with. I’ll continue to write it even if there isn’t any interest on Tumblr, simply because I want to write it no matter what.

So without further ado, here is the first and possibly only installment of *Insert Story Name Here When I Think of a Title*

Melli glowered down at the innocuous little slip of paper that sat on top of her desk. She tapped her paintbrush impatiently on her knee , and she was so aggravated that the tapping became more and more forceful, almost painful on her kneecap.

It was a wedding invitation. 

Worse, it was a wedding invitation from her best friend. The one she had been in love with for years before he fell for another woman. Anders Nilsson. The man with the clever mouth and scrappy temper, the man with the charm oozing out of him, the man with the cold steel blue eyes and the hero jaw and the perfect hair and the whiskey-on-the-rocks voice that kept her company during her divorce. 

They met, as gimicky as it sounded, on a random team assignment for an online game they both played. It was chance, their meeting. One in a million chance that she’d end up on the European servers to get paired with him. Her soon-to-be ex husband at the time just so happened to buy her both the game system and the game itself (as a bribery, a sort of “Sorry I cheated on you for the eighth time, please forgive me” present) the same week Anders just so happened to buy his after leaving rehab for a drug addiction he was determined to leave behind. She and Anders clicked almost instantly, formed a solid game friendship, and eventually branched out to all sorts of games, and even conversations through a messaging app on the phone, and eventually actual phone calls, and it just kept becoming more and more intense. 

She left her shitbag ex, took the game system, found an apartment in a near city with her best friend, and started freelancing as a commissioned artist to make ends meet, the whole while kindling this strong sort of attachment to Anders. Anders was always there for her. He’d call her after he left work--with the time difference, it meant she’d get a good morning phone call every day as she got out of bed. She loved it. And he knew she loved it, and so kept it up just to put a smile on her face.

Melli once mentioned she wished she could see more of Sweden with him, and the next day Anders went far out of his daily commute to surprise her with photos of all the touristy things Stockholm had to offer; old town, with its colorful squished-together houses and cobblestone roads; the many rivers and deltas and lakes around his city; the giant city square with its vastly intricate paved gathering spots. He worked in construction and showed off some of the massive skyscrapers he had a hand in building. He was proud of his work, and his city, and gladly shared these with her at the drop of a hat. 

He’d stay up past midnight telling her his most intimate thoughts and secrets. They’d had really good phone sex many times, and it was sadly and ironically the best sex she’d ever had. She told him she loved him. He rejoiced and told her he loved her.

She fell hard, body and soul, for this man.

And then he fell hard, body and soul, for another woman.

It wasn’t fair. Melli had been saving up money to go to Stockholm when he broke the news that he had found a girlfriend--in fact she was three quarters of the way to her goal. She had scrimped and saved and daydreamed and planned and painted her heart out to sell as many projects as she could (while still paying her bills) to be able to afford the trip. Anders and his girlfriend had a rocky relationship--very on again, off again--and Melli had secretly and ashamedly hoped it wouldn’t last. 

But then again, the invitation on her desk. You fool, It seemed to gloat at her the longer she stared at it, You fell so hard and now you’re bruised and alone. She huffed and swept it off the desk and onto the floor, bitter tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She blinked them away.

Melli prided herself on not being a bitter person. She managed to go all twenty five of her years on this planet without holding grudges, or acting on spite, or being unnecessarily cruel or mean spirited. But there’s only so much heartbreak a girl can take… 

She’d have to go to the wedding, of course. This was her best friend, regardless of any heartbreak, and he’d messaged her weeks ago and asked her to attend. 

“It’s really important to me, if you’re able to make it. I know it’s an expensive trip, but you’re my best friend, Mellibelle. I’d love it if you could be there on the happiest day of my life.”

He was the only person she’d let call her by her full first name. It always made her melt when he said it in that accent of his, with that whiskey voice of his, and so she’d agreed before she could so much as think up a good excuse not to attend. 

It wasn’t the money, of course. She’d become quite successful as a freelance artist--pet portraits, mostly, but every now and then a local gallery would arrange a sale of her less generic works--it was the reality of finally seeing him face to face, close enough to touch and hold and kiss, only for him to be completely off limits. It would kill her. 

She had to go.

“Fuck,” she murmured, and begrudgingly powered up her laptop to look at flights and hotels. 

Footsteps behind her signaled her childhood friend and roommate had woken up for the day. She heard Sofia stoop to pick up the invitation and pause to read it. 

“Oof,” Sofia winced, her voice rough with sleep, “Are you going?” 

Sofia, of course, knew the whole sordid history between Melli and Anders. Sofia knew everything about Melli by proximity alone: they’d been friends since elementary school. Melli swiveled in her chair to level a helpless look at her friend, who opened her arms to offer a hug, and the dam broke, and Melli was crying. Sofia stepped forward and enveloped Melli into her arms. 

“Ah, dear,” Sofia said soothingly, pityingly, as she gently patted Melli’s thick dark hair. “Listen, I know this is going to suck. But you’ve always been so good at making the most out of sucky situations! Why don’t you use a little more out of savings and make it a miniature vacation just for you?”

A tiny spark of promise flared in Melli’s chest. She wiped her eyes on Sofia’s sleep shirt and glanced up at her friend. “A woman alone in a foreign country? Isn’t that just asking for a Liam Neeson film?” 

The feeble attempt at a joke got a snort out of Sofia. 

“You’re street smart and I believe in you. Just don’t go into dark alleys, don’t talk to shifty strangers, listen to your intuition, all that good stuff. You deserve a good vacation after that wedding.” Sofia leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss onto Melli’s forehead. “Treat Yourself: Unrequited Love Edition.”

Melli wrinkled her nose, swiveling back around to open several new tabs in her browser, mind reeling with possibilities. “Ew, don’t say unrequited love. Makes me sound so woebegone. How much do you think it costs to rent a boat?” 

Sofia barked out a laugh as she made her way to the kitchen. “More than what you charge for a painting. But the wedding isn’t for another month so you have plenty of time to get cracking on a few more pet portraits.” (The click of the electric kettle, followed by a yawn.) “Maybe hit up Mrs. Marchpane again. Didn’t her seventh cat just have kittens? She’d probably love a family portrait to go with the fleet she’s already commissioned. She’s so… enthusiastic.”

“Not a bad idea! You’re on a roll this morning, and all before you’ve had your tea!” cracked Melli, typing furiously into a US Dollar-to-Swedish-Krona converter. She opened another tab and started typing an email to Mrs. Marchpane.

Dear Mrs. Marchpane, 

I heard the Glorious Miss Tater Tot just gave birth to seven beautiful little kittens. Are you interested in a family portrait to commemorate this joyous occasion? I can give you a special rate as a congratulations…. 

Melli smiled to herself, floored by the plan that was forming in her mind.

“Sofia?” 

“Yes, dear?”

“I owe you so many souvenirs.”

“Bring me back a moose and we’re even.”

“Deal!”

#unrequited love #the one that got away #tropes #unrequited love trope #unrequited romance trope #pining trope #pining #unrequited pining #I'm not gonna sugar coat it this is tropey as hell but i'm being shamelessly self indulgent here with no RAGRETS #Also yes I paint pet portraits and so does the protagonist but it's not a mary sue or a self insert #i just don't know how any other job works at this point and it's the easiest thing to use lmfao #write what ya know

[spottedlekkudancer]

Passive Pursuit

Pt1 - Perfectly Pointless Din X Reader

You were never one for biting off more than you can chew, and yet you keep finding yourself in loads of trouble. Now you have several of the one percent-ers on your back paying out the ass to have you brought in by the best

WC: <1.5K

Warnings: Violence, adult language, adult themes.  @lowlyapprentice @moonlightreetops  

“I can bring you in warm… or i can bring you in cold.”

The blaster pointed square to your heart quieted your pleas quickly. This hunter could’t be bought off or seduced. You extended your arms to be cuffed, jaw clinched with the realization of what kind of consequences your actions had gifted you.

Three years ago you found yourself inheriting a large estate and many business assets. None of which you had any real interest in. You liquidated ALL of them: much to the displeasure of the other wealthy men and politicians involved. It just wasn’t the kind of life you were eager to live. You didn’t have the patience to deal with those stuffed-necked-boghogs. Long story short they have been sending guns for hire after you ever since. 

Typically they were easy enough to dispatch of, but you knew when you were confronted with someone that surpassed you. No way in hell you were making it out alive up against a Mandalorian. 

To your supersize the armor clad man didn’t bother keeping a blaster at your back as he walked you to his ship. Such arrogance. You kind of liked that. You both knew he didn’t need a weapon to take you out, but to just drop that kind of extra insurance? That was some unexpected energy. 

The stink of old metal and weeks worth of body odor dominated your senses as you entered though the hatch. How could someone live like this? Was your first thought. Your second, a single “Fuck”. There was a carbon freezing chamber installed to your right. Two other aliens, rigid from the tibanna gas, were hanging from the top of the gunship. Bucket-head wasn’t kidding about bringing his bounties in cold. Did he take anyone in with their blood still hot and pumping? You felt like the line should be “I can bring you in cold… or I can bring you in stiff.” Was he going to freeze you too? If so there would be no hope for your escape upon delivery. 

That was the plan when you met him after all. The client you were to be gifted to would be one you could surely out wit or out gun. Mando on the other hand, not likely. But if he froze you? Once unfrozen you would suffer from carbon sickness and be left defenseless while you were taken in.  

Keeping yourself from that fate had to become your top priority now. 

The Mandalorian lead you up a latter and into the cock pit. Here he pushed you down into the chair behind his pilot seat. He’s oddly quiet for a bounty hunter. Most of the ones that captured you would taunt or boast about how they were going to spend the coin they got for you. This one didn’t make a peep besides his catchy little phrase back in that dingy alleyway. 

It made you wonder just how boring these next few days taking the hyper-lane back to the core were going to be. If you weren't worried about not being able to jet when the opportunity was right you might have just asked him to freeze you. You hated long trips. 

“Hm” and short one worded answers were about all you got out of the armor clad hunter. Talking to the stars outside the viewport would have been better company in your humble opinion. But you weren’t about to push your luck in telling him this.

It took the tin can a lot longer to bring you in than anticipated. He made two stops along the way. The first was for fuel and repairs. There was no room given to you for escape, the man never let his guard down, but it became very obvious that he didn’t see you as any sort of threat.  At first you thought this was because you were being so compliant. You looked unassertive and delicate enough to sill pass for the heiress you once were. However, on your second stop you found your bounty puck lying among the hunter’s things while he was perusing his next incentive.

You were bound at the wrist to the bolted down cot with a pair of rather uncomfortable stun cuffs. If you moved your arm too quickly or too far from rest of the chain it sent a jolt though your whole body; not to mention the way the binders chafed against your soft skin, pulling the tiny hairs on your arm off. 

This wasn’t your first time attached to something like this. You knew fighting these shackles would be futile without the proper tools at your disposal. So using the tip of your toes you gently stretched and pulled your captor’s sack closer too you until it was in reaching distance of your free hand.  

The hologram of yourself on the puck was dearly outdated. It was a picture of you on your wedding night at the ripe young age of 17. Your stomach churned inside as the memories came flooding in.

Under that, rotating in circles around the front edge of the disk, the holo spelled out first your name, then your date of birth, how much your reward was set for, and lastly your warrant. 

“Petty Thief?” The blood rushing though your neck became thick and hot with fury. The vexation you felt was more than you were prepared to handle and it made you secretly wish the client that labeled you this way was here for you to take out your spleen on. Kriff! Anyone to vent this pique onto would suffice.  The last time your stole something you were 6 and your own guilt ate you alive. It was insulting! Especially considering that they were trying to hide their own vile behavior now. 

Your pucks had always stated you were wanted for mass murder. But you guessed that raised too many questions considering you were cleared of all charges from that harrowing night.

Strangely the winnings for your “alive” capture were just as ghastly high as they had always been. The rich and powerful of Corescant still wanted you to pay in flesh for all the misfortune you had caused them. Slowly, and by their own greedy hands.

That must be why Helmet was keeping you thawed. His own curious nature could not help but to be intrigued by you. A robber with a 15 million credit reward on the line? Unheard of. Shavit! Bounties for bandits and burglars alike hovered around 5 thousand. 7 at most. And that was barley enough to pay for hypermatter and rhydonium fuel to get you around the galaxy these days.

Without a moment to spare you tossed the cursed puck back into the leather bag and kicked it across the room in a huff. The Razor Crest’s hatch lowered with a loud hiss. You couldn’t see outside the little room you were held in but the clanking stride of the Mandalorian was unmistakable to your ears now. He was back with his game.

Not a minute latter the mercenary was putting his carbon freezer to use. A wave of relief came over you when the ship was resealed. At least now he would take you out of these bloody binders. 

You asked him where you were, where you were headed, and who ordered your arrest. You even asked him how his day was going. You weren’t expecting him to give you any answers but on your last night in his company he finally did. You didn’t even prompt it.  You were almost flattered. 

“You are the first delivery. Don’t try to run. Your bounty is offered at half if brought in dead and that is more than enough to triple my commission.” Clicking of a more traditional set of binders tightening around your sore wrists accompanied the flat melody of his deep modulated voice. 

This time you were the one with no verbal response to give. Triple? More like quinquagintuple! You hoped he was just as bad at at maths as you were and not trying to sugar coat the situation for you. You didn’t want his pity. 

He took you under the arm and hoisted you up out of the secondary chair of the cock pit. For a silent moment he stared at you. Or at least you thought he was staring at you. The black visor was pointed down in your direction. Then he broke the thin icy air between you. “What did you steal?” His helmet tilted just barely to your right.

Your assumption had been proven correct. This Mandalorian knew a deal too good when he saw one.  “The profit of opportunity.”

#quinquagintuple = x50 #star wars #starwars #star wars fanfiction #Star Wars Drabble #reader #reader insert #x reader #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #din djaren #din djarin #din djarin x reader #dyn jarren #the mandolorian fanfiction #star wars imagine #fanfiction #drabble

[thijihiguri]

The Emperor’s Ascension, Pt. 3 (& Denouement)

Two times now has the world of Elementa been trapped in stasis.  The first was at the very beginning of this battle, when the Snow Flower herself, Koyuki Kazahana, High Empress of Hyoga, emerged from on high to face her beloved husband in battle.  Of the many obstacles he had overcome up until now, Thiji battling his own wife would be his greatest.  Still, he pressed on, goaded by Koyuki to face her with all he had.

The second occurrence is the current sight everyone struggled to behold: a blade pierced Koyuki’s body by Thiji’s hand.  Though it was expected to happen eventually, the sight was too much for many to stomach. The Handmaidens of Peace, the Royal Family’s most loyal sect of warrior-priests, had practically fainted on the spot, save for Sylla, Shijima, and Celuwen, who watched on with mouths agape.  Seraphina slowly moved her hands from her eyes to behold the scene, gasping loudly once she did.  

“Princess Seraphina, with me!” Umi spoke as she rose from her seat.  “We go now to attend your mother.”

“Y-Yes, Auntie Umi!” Seraphina said reluctantly.  Shiro silently nodded and followed them down.

As they left the stands, Koyuki let out a soft exhale as she lost the strength to stand, slowly falling backwards.  Thiji quickly caught his wife and pulled his blade from her body, leaving behind a wound that had frozen over.  The Diamond Emperor dropped a knee, cradling Koyuki in his arms.  Though there was little expression on his face, he still felt sorrow for what he had done.

“All right – mic me, boys!” Nora said with a snap of her fingers.  The cameramen took out a pair of lavalier mics from his pocket and tossed them over to the Teal Quaintrelle, who then chucked them straight down into the stadium, landing beside Thiji and Koyuki.  As if on cue, Thiji took them in hand and attached one to his robe, and the other to Koyuki’s qipao.  “And now, the big reveal!”

“That was tough to watch, even for me…” Homura sighed.

“It was tough for all of Elementa, sister,” Sakuya replied, “but the plan has been carried out flawless so far.  The time has come to commence the summoning.  I already sense Mizore is channeling her energies to complete this process; let’s not keep her waiting too long.”

Raiko and Homura nodded and left their luxury room to teleport to Nora’s dirigible.  Meanwhile, Koyuki gazed upon her beautiful husband, who had laid a hand upon his cheek.

“Koyuki…” was all he could get out before she interrupted him with a finger to his lips.

“Be still, my lord…” Koyuki said, her voice weak.  The microphones attached to their clothing amplified their voices so that everyone within the stadium could hear them clearly, along with everyone else watching throughout the world.

“But, my flower…” he tried to speak again, only to be shushed.

“Still, my love… hear me,” she repeated, smiling.  “Ever since you were born, you were destined… for greatness.  Ever faithfully has the Higuri Clan served my Pure Branch, but you were meant to do more than serve… All your life, you have served me and my family, but the truth is… we’ve held you back.  Your strength and potential, limited… because the love you had for us softened your heart. We curtailed the Diamond Prophecy, though we did not know it at the time… the Trials of Winter was to help reshape you into who you were; what you were meant to be.  You had to let go of me in order to become the Diamond Emperor… It was difficult at first… but I accepted it with time.  To ascend, you had to strike down your flower… Love is a powerful force, and I always uphold its values… but it can make us complacent… it can bring our guard down… it can even end us.  But not you, Thiji.  You’re meant to become a force far greater, and after bringing our Hyoga into the golden age of prosperity it now has, you have fulfilled your duties as a mortal…”

Seraphina, Umi, and Shiro hurried to the field, but Shiro pointed out that flowers were beginning to blossom through the snow-covered ground.

“What… What’s this…?” Seraphina asked.

“Her power is being spread throughout the land,” Shiro explained.  “She is returning to nature.”

“Is… Is my mother dying…?”

“No, she is not, thankfully,” Umi replied, “but she has suffered too much damage to maintain her form; she is one with nature, and therefore cannot perish easily.”

“You Kazahana sure did luck out in the superpower lottery…” Shiro grumbled, a hint of jealousy in her voice.  She then spotted a familiar flower materializing right above Koyuki.  “No way… is that -?”

A delicate snow-white flower with purple stamens appeared above Koyuki’s body, and around the stamens were tiny blue snowflakes dancing about.  The flower slowly descended to her right hand, which she then presented to Thiji.

“Do you know what this is, my lord…?” she asked him.  He looked upon it and gasped.  He wanted to reach out and touch it, but was too focused on holding his weakening wife.

“It’s… It’s the first Snow Lily that marked your birth!” Thiji answered.  Koyuki grinned at his response.

“The very first Snow Lily – yes,” she confirmed.  “I kept and safeguarded it all my life, for the right moment to show it to you.”

Something else had begun to emerge from the flower: a tiny, coin-shaped object – no bigger than a poker chip – materialized and levitated in front of Thiji’s head, expecting him to grab it.

“Koyuki… what is this?” Thiji asked.

“The Proof of the Snow Flower…” she replied.  “This was the final battle in your Trials.  I was the only other Lady of Winter standing in your way in Elementa, and I was determined to harden your heart for the task.  If you failed this day… The gods would have been displeased. But they knew you were stronger than that; I knew you were stronger than that. And now that it’s all over, I can gaze upon you… one last time, as a mortal.  I’m so proud of you, Thiji…”

As their conversation continued, Seraphina began feeling another reaction coming.  This one, however, was more familiar to her.

“It’s been a long time, my beloved child,” spoke a female voice to her telepathically.

“Mother Moon..!!” she gasped.  “How may Your humble daughter serve you?”

“I have need of you for a moment; mind if I use you as a vessel?”

“Whatever your desire, O Luminious One!”

The clouds parted once more as a beam of lunar energy shot down from the heavens, enveloping the Alabaster Rose.  Shiro and Umi jumped out of the way, watching in awe.

“That’s the sign, sisters!” Sakuya spoke.  They channeled the powers of Izanami, Izanagi, and Amaterasu – the gods who chose them to be Eternals – into the pillar, causing an elemental reaction which created a rainbow bridge.  Everyone shielded their eyes from the light as it washed over the stadium and the entire Borealis Tundra.

Moments later, the light faded, and everyone scanned their surroundings – the sky was once again cast into night, with the silvery moon illuminating Hyoga.  Turning center stage, everyone noticed that Seraphina had transformed into a taller, yet equally slender woman of blue-violet hair and a silver-white-and-blue floral dress.  On the right side of her head was a silvery-blue flower in full bloom, and in her hands was a pristine harp.  She plucked the strings and the moon’s light filled the stadium.

“Iss thiss… the powerss of a God?” Z’hira asked.  “To witnesss one appear before uss…”

“The Divinity of Night; the Lady of the Moon…” Hiro spoke under his breath.  The other Eternals jumped down from the blimp and landed behind Thiji, sticking the landing in a kneeling position.

“It has been far too long since I’ve taken a stroll in the mortal realm,” the Goddess said as she stretched.  The Handmaidens of Peace watched in awe as the Goddess of the Moon descended to grace them.  “You’ve come a long way, Thiji Higuri.  All that has happened up to this point shaped you into who you are now.  Thy wisdom; thy strength; thy intellect; your heart of diamond – these are the tenets that deem you more than qualified to become an Eternal – should you accept.  Just as I have chosen thy mother, Mizore, I have found thee more than worthy to ascend.”

She then turned to Koyuki, who met her gaze with a grin.

“High Empress Koyuki… your mother would be so proud.  But it pained all of us to put you through this.  You truly are worthy of the name ‘Kazahana’, and the Snow Flower from which sparked your birth.”

“I did what I must, Lady Tsukuyomi…” whispered Koyuki, her voice very weak at this point, “for him… I only hope that Thiji can forgive his flower…”

“I already forgive you, Koyuki… I do,” Thiji spoke, now holding her close.  He deliberated for a moment before looking up towards Tsukuyomi.

“Speak thy mind, Diamond Emperor,” the Moon Goddess urged.

“I accept this charge, Lady Tsukuyomi,” he began, “however… I wish to begin anew.”

“Pray explain thyself.”

“I know that Eternals are reborn after death as they can never be truly killed, and with each rebirth they are stronger… but I wish to be reborn as an infant.  This way, my power will be exponentially more immense, and I may better serve towards Elementa’s safekeeping.”

“WHAAAAT?!” Homura shrieked, fire spewing from her maw.  “That clever bastard’s gonna deny me a sparring partner?!”

“Dial it down, Homura; the mics are still on…” Raiko grunted whilst covering her ears.

“I’m sure Mizore’s going to be ecstatic over this,” chuckled Sakuya.  “She’d want nothing more than to hold her little Thiji again.”

“Very well, and very astute of thee,” Tsukuyomi stated.  “I shall make it so, but you’ve many friends gathered here; I will allow thee one final chance for any parting words with them.”

The Diamond Emperor nodded and turned to everyone present.  Shiro approached and gave Thiji a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s been a hell of a ride, Thiji,” Shiro began.  “You’ve helped me save a lot of people, and the missions we’ve been on together have been the most memorable ones ever.  It’s going to hurt me seeing you go, but there’s a secret I’ve been keeping from you for quite some time now.”

She turned their attention towards the stands.  A cloaked figure in white sat alone.  Lifting the hood revealed a young girl with hair like Shiro’s, only slightly bluer, with Thiji’s eyes.  She wore a white-and-blue gown and her face was filled with tears.  “You see that young woman there?  That’s Soyo – my daughter.  Your daughter.”

“The Princess has a stepsister…” Umi said under her breath.

“WOW!  That’s unexpected!” Nora commented.  “I knew Thiji got around, but…!”

“Because of you, my Clan survives.  And I’ve discovered that some of us survived the purge.  The Lands of Kiri have a princess, and I’ve discovered that some of my kin have survived the purge.  We would not have survived without you, Thiji, and to this, I owe you so much.”

Da Ji hurried over to Thiji, teary-eyed as ever.

“My Emperor,” she began, “I will wait for your rebirth, and when you return, I will do my utmost for you! I… I only ever wish to serve you – as a mortal, and as a Goddess.  I will forever be yours…”

“And I am grateful to have your love and support, Da Ji,” Thiji replied.  He then turned over towards his brother, his gazing firmly upon him.  “It will fall upon you and Seraphina to lead Hyoga in our absence.  Though the Snow Flower will return, I must answer a higher call.  But Hyoga’s sanctity will always be my prime concern.  Horu. You’ve the entirety of the Tundra Force and the Handmaidens of Peace backing you; you’ve numerous allies and advisors.  Reach out to them; lean on them if you must…”

“We won’t fail you, Brother,” Horu acknowledged.  “I’ll watch over Empress Seraphina as well.  Your shoes will be difficult to fill, but I’ve learned much from you.”

A large flower began to blossom in the center of the stadium.  It opened one of its petals as the last of Koyuki’s power seeped into and nurtured the now verdant area.  She gazed upon her beloved husband once more, a smile on her face as she gave her final words:

“Thiji… you were, are, and always will be… my light… my lord… my love.”

Her strength all but spent, Koyuki’s arm slowly fell to the ground, her eyes shutting into a peaceful sleep.  Though they knew she was not gone from this world, the scene was no less heartbreaking to watch.  Thiji lifted her body and carried it into the flower, placing her comfortably inside of its petals.  As it closed, a violet pulse emanated from the plant, thereby “sealing” it.  With the Snow Flower laid to rest, it was finally time.  Thiji turned towards Tsukuyomi, but another voice would make itself known beforehand:

“Thiji!” cried a tearful Nora.  “Don’t you dare think this marks the end of your career!  There’s gonna be A LOT of ideas I’ll be throwin’ at you when you’re reborn!”

Everyone couldn’t help but laugh – even Tsukuyomi.  But with all said and done, the Goddess called upon Her divine powers, showering the Diamond Emperor in lunar energy.  The light could be seen from as far as the Frozen Sea, and after a long moment of bathing in its luminescence… all went quiet.  The moonlight had faded, the skies returned to normal, and Thiji and Tsukuyomi had vanished.  Seraphina levitated back down to earth, laying a hand upon her mother’s resting place. It was warm, as if her mother’s presence was still evident, responding to her daughter’s touch.

“Rest well, Mother. I promise that Hyoga will be better off than when you left it,” she said with a smile.

With his brother’s ascension now complete, and Koyuki’s own rebirth underway, Horu’s first order as Emperor was to consecrate the Borealis Stadium to allow her sister-in-law the blissful sleep she deserved.  In a year’s time, she would reemerge, ready to rule Hyoga once more as the Great Empress, just like her mother.  Masao was given the charge to protect the holy site in place of the Virgin Snow Courtyard, to which she was more than honored to accept.  Though Hyoga was definitely still well into its golden age, there would still be disreputable types who would aim to take advantage of this succession.  However, their powerful new allies in the Glacierfin extended their reach to beyond the Frozen Shore, and the Kirishinobi would serve as Horu’s personal honor guard.

Sometime later, Thiji began his new immortal life as an infant, per his request.  Mizore happily carried and walked him around the Antarctic Glade, showing him the domain was far vaster than when he originally visited. All who inhabited it witnessed their new lord, and pledged their fealty to him.  While he rested and grew within this new realm, he practiced his newfound abilities through his avatar, which was a simulacrum of what he would look like as a child.  Da Ji had also frequented the Antarctic Glade, accompanying the new Eternal of Ice through her own avatars.  The love she showed for him was adored by Mizore, who was more than happy to allow her passage to and from their realm.  Soon after, he would take his avatar to the mortal world, making his return known to all of Hyoga.  When Koyuki was reborn, she grew another pair of wings, becoming a Seraphim.  After serving her all his mortal life, the time had come for her to serve him – as his beloved Snow Flower Seraphim.  She would gain more specialized powers that complimented her mastery over Floramancy, cementing her place among the Kazahana Pure Branch.

The time had come for the greatest age of Hyoga’s time: The Eternal Age of Iceflowers.

#thiji higuri #god of winter #ice #snow #short story #frost #flowers #love #romance

[ton-e]

Helheim is a land of peace.

The layers of agonized wails and woeful imploring she prepared her ears for was lost in the breeze of the melancholic melody of nature. Naked humming voices flowed serenely amidst the gradient of indigo blue leaves, dry and wrinkly, singing the ballads of lost souls attached to skinny tree branches, rinsed of color at the roots, blending smoothly with the pale greenery surrounding the wide meadow that grew to be her most favored solace.

Flowers, prey to decaying, small in stature but mighty in resistance, veiled the piece of soil that parted the center of the dark Kingdom in two, catching vines in the heart core of the spot her beloved boy once clawed his way to freedom, from a grave that came too early for a boy too gentle, too youthful, too much of a man before his time.

Her ghost Prince, her youngest; Stolen and crowned the King of Death, with a rain of tears on his cheeks and a cloak of swords in his back.

'Crowned, ' she spits, imagining it rippling through the dead earth and fell right onto Borr's bald head. Time failed to sweeten her bitterness as she thought, yes, this is how their history beautified the terrible incident. Time didn't heal her pain, neither did it gentled the sharpness of her teeth.

They had deceived him, betrayed him, punished him, stole his life away, and called it a reward.

After that dreadful day, She spent more nights weeping to slumber, eyes buried in the cushions of Hel's frigid chambers, burning brighter, hotter, than the hard oak feeding red-orange flames in the fireplace of her bedroom.

The phantom ice caressing the silver of her skin was more comfort than suffering, painless mercy she sunk into little by little every day until the light of day became unfamiliar. The cold here shares that quality, she ponders, a soft touch of unburnt ice to keep you from perishing.

Its a lot like her son, she thinks.

Yet, Bestla doesn't feel its presence permanently. A long, stone shaded cloak fell upon her shoulders, showering her back in a misty warmth provided by the thick velvet of the garment. Her eyes observe a silhouette shadowing the pale sun, the single leak of blight light hanging above the smoke sky.

"I was hoping to find you here, " Estrid wears a smile radiant enough to pale all gold in the 9 realms. "Peaceful up here, is it not? Hel liked hiding here, as a boy. Said the breeze was nice."

Bestla, for a moment, allows her eye to inspect the other woman for the first time. Her shoulders are round and solid, strong as a soldier, complemented by the stunning danger of a shieldmaiden. Bestla tracks night-dark locks brushing over creamy skin, long and curly. She's as much warrior as she is woman, it's as if she only now observes.

Her arms are an impressive addition, boxy as much as lean, holding closely on her shield and sword. A sword that, doubtlessly, claimed a long string of lives. She's not as fearful as it would be wiser to be. Estrid has been nothing but pleasant, as much as one could be when encountering their circumstance, her presence never frightening her as much as it saddened her.

"For someone carrying such heavy armor, you move with great stealth, Lady Sigurdsson, " If the other woman peaked at the too feather-soft timber of her voice, she had enough cheek to act differently. " I suppose you'd want an explanation as to why I'm avoiding my son?"

" Forgive me, your Grace, but Lord Hellison was never included in the conversation, " Bestla thought she spotted a bloom of red dusting her cheeks as she grinned gently, taking a spot none to tight to the former Queen, but close enough to leave some space had the smaller woman want to fill it. "I thought you would, after..."

"...It's unwise to polish hard truths. They cut harder that way, " The Queen's words were dressed in both honesty and advice, chapters of her life unfolding beneath her eyes as if to pledge truth to the statement. Estrid studied each word with expert attention.

Bestla raises, arms guarding her middle, eyes cast over the sea of flowers beneath her shoes.

"I'm grateful, for the kindness you showed him. I remain in your debt, in fact, though it escapes me how I can repay you here. "

"We don't believe in paying kindness, in the North. Goodness isn't traded in gold, " a quiet chuckle is swept by the breeze slashing through the grand mountains. Estrid inhales deeply and opens her arms when she lets her body fall upon the grass. "If it was, don't you think more people would practice it?"

The southerner's lips lift in a one-sided smile of her own, private and discreet. Debtless favors certainly sounded sweet to the ear.

" Aesir aren't precisely renewed for our gentle hearts, so I suppose not. I still mourn the stress you must have endured, however. Children are far from being a jolly affair. And the tales we hear as children don't exactly portray Titans as loving parents."

A stratum of blank seriousness shaped Estrid's features, graveness resting heavily on sharp boned cheeks and warm brown eyes. " I fell in love a day after meeting him, " Bestla swallowed hard at the admission. " I knew him for less than a sundown, but I knew he was mine. I was dead, alone and helpless and afraid, and he was too much like me to be a fateless coincidence. Words aren't enough to express it. He was just...Meant to fall, and I to catch him. "

The leafs sang to fill the edged hush musking around them. Estrid pimped the other's empty breathing as anger, for she heaved a sigh long enough to match the twin lack of words on both their parts, and excused her nerve. " Apologies. I don't dare name myself a mother, nor do I starve for anyone's approval, least of all yours. I only wished to say you raised a good son. A son lucky to have a mother like you, for as long as he did."

"...You helped him," Bestla started, chest light and comfortable, not cutting blades piercing her skin as she expected. "Kept food in his mouth, put clothes on his back. You loved him truthfully and protected him fiercely. You're not any less his mother than I."

"...It must be a sour thin all the same, for someone so beloved to greet you as a stranger. For that, I can't help but feel sorry still."

" That's a sentiment we can share. He... Hel, my child, my youngest son. Born at the edge of two worlds that never loved him. They aren't my own, not my blood, not him neither Odin, my kind hearted prince, my little lion boy. And yet, I was not their mother for the simple reason they didnt come from me. Everyone told me so.

They weren't my own, yet I held them at my chest, kissed their skinned knees and elbows, wiped their tears, and chased sickness with handpicked herbs and wet rags because I trusted nobody to do so. No language is enough to describe the love a mother has for their children.

No tongue is enough to put my love in words."

"...Even for Balder?"

Bestla laughs, an odde of heartache and sorrow. " Even him. Love gives no choices, last of all to parents. I still remember the day of his birth. A terrible storm broke the skies that evening, set fire to five houses, left a month's worth of reparations behind. He struggled, I've been told. He kicked and wailed and fought all the way.

I haven't had the chance to even hold him in my arms and he was so eager to run from me. My eyes never saw something more perfect than his tiny ears, his adorable little hands, and feet, his honey hair. He looked so much like me I hardly believed it.

But I felt no different with his brothers. There was a sickness in my mouth, when they were babes and I was forced to be departed from them. I couldn't bear to see them in another's arms, a wet nurse, or a squire, when asked to trust anyone else with them, I was faithless.

When Hel was born, he couldn't be convinced to let me go. He was so quiet, I thought perhaps this world claimed him already. His mother drew her last breath on that bed and I was the one he clung to, the one he hooked his fingers into. One of the King's guards present, he tried to prey him away, do you want to know what I did? I unsheathed a dagger from my thigh, slashed his throat, and watched him die." The confession was a river she scalded into freely.

"Would I insult your intelligence by asking if you're familiar with Sandr?" Bestla asked once Estrid wordlessly raised on her feet. She felt enough security to push her body forward. " Titans held mighty battles there."

A smirk pinched the taller woman's lips. " We were rowdy children, I'll confess. But yes, I know the location. You rebuild beautifully, " dark eyes shaped the bronze scorpio pendant suspended in the middle of Bestla's long neck. " Your family picked a Scorpio as their sigil. They made a fine legacy."

" Oh, it was. The finest. Beautiful, skillful, and yet, terribly lonely. I had 10 siblings. 5 brothers and sisters, however, I confess I felt more like an accessory than a member of a clan. We were strangers to each other. Foreigners with the same name, with our only common factor being our house.

Our country was gorgeous but very poor, you see. We trusted nobody, and in return, our distrust was repaid with hostility. Eventually, when our skin touched bone and we ran out of livestock, we opened the gates to trade. Naturally, we were invaded, our lands stolen, our necks had shackles only we could see.

And I held the key for everyone.

I want you to picture the most powerful man in the world, asking me to marry him," a bitter laughs cracks in her throat, and the wind whips away the water from her eyes. " He had a crown on his head and 50 thousand banner men behind him, with more gold than he could ever need or deserve and 100,000 spikes for our heads alone. What else could I have said?"

Her legs shift, stepping closer to Estrid, eyes as flat as her tone. " What I did, I did because I had to. To defend my people. To defend my family. To defend my blood. Every sacrifice, every drop of blood I've spilled, I did it so the people I love could live the peace I never did."

She advances, every step that's forward to her is one back for Estrid, eyes concentrated intensely on one another with enough fire to make Fire Giants sweat.

"All the sins that I have done. Or had done at my orders? The truths my children don't know, the truths a narrow number of people lived to keep the secret. The kind vicious enough to make fine warriors as yourself lose sleep, if they came to know them.

Perhaps this is my justice. A punishment for survival in a world where living is no bed of roses. But I won't stop helping my children, heart beating or otherwise.

There's a storm coming, My Lady. And I have every intention of ensuring everyone walks dry."

#I LOVE BESTLA SO MUCH THIS IS NOT A JOKE SKSKSK #earth 513 #bestla #hel hellison #estrid siggurson #Balder #odin borson #borr #(mentioned) #thunderfam #scene #fic #Spotify

[rockcfellers]

 /   let  me  introduce  you  to  a  prized  member  of  our   student government   ,   arden rockefeller .  this   cisfemale  virgo   has  been  a  student  at  our  institution for   seven years   and  is  currently  a  21  year  old   junior.   through  the  halls ,   she  has   always  reminded  me  of   danielle rose russell  ,   but  there  is  always  more  than  meets  the  eye ,   like  the  fact  that  she managed to get somene’s admission to cape coral deferred a year for her own benefit .  coral  cape  has  made  their  future  just  as  bright  as  their  smile ,   i  assure  you .  ʼ      (   muse 10 ,  adri ,  19 ,  cst ,  she/her   )

go on, replace me, when you’re craving something sweeter than the words i left in your mouth, go on and spit me out

NAME — arden olivia rockefeller.

NICKNAMES — n/a? 

PRONOUNS — she/her.

AGE & DOB — 21 & august 23, 1998.

PLACE OF BIRTH — new york city, new york.

NATIONALITY — american.

MAJOR — psychology & political science.

EDUCATION — cape coral international school.

CLUBS — student government, unicef campus initiative, and lacrosse.

* background overview !

arden is twins with her brother, neels, both first born to this half of the rockefeller generation (he’s older by several minutes, but she’ll never attest to that) they’ve always been kinda close but never attached at the hip.

you know, i honestly feel like she had a fairly decent? childhood? like nothing was really wrong, just that her parents were always busy and never really gave the attention they should’ve to young children. 

she was typically always very bright and cheery to everyone, evoking a “your daughter’s so sweet” from most people she met, which felt like the biggest compliment to her, because it meant that someone thought she was nice even if they disliked the rest of her family for any given reason, kind of like a twisted self worth?

her parents definitely would’ve preferred she did something that seemed more feminine, but arden found a love for kickboxing and later lacrosse, the two sports a great place for her to channel her energy into, letting her mellow out when she’s going through her day to day routine.

arden’s still figuring out how to be both who she’s expected to be and who she wants to be without facing any real repercussions, but hasn’t quite gotten that part down yet.

it was always known she could come to cape coral, considering her family, but she’s lowkey really grateful that she was given the opportunity to study what she wanted where she wanted. 

that being said.... she’s still kinda a bitch. i mean, someone she knew from outside of cape coral wanted to applied and had gotten accepted, but arden had worried that they would interfere from her getting idk maybe a spot in the student government or accepted into her research program etc etc, so she talked to her grandfather and had their admission deferred a year so that her studies wouldn’t be affected.

* personality !

okay so,,,she is New so i’m still working out all the kinks but for the most part, she’s just.. neutral

before, she used to be like aggressively happy and cheery and nice. probably to compensate for the fact that everyone around her just seemed so mean.

she’s always hated being seen as weaker than or less than anyone else, which is partially why she’s taken up lacrosse and boxing, much to her grandfather’s distaste. 

now she’s more focused on herself and is capable of being able to brush off any kind of comment that comes from people she doesn’t feel like directly affect her, which isn’t a great mentality to have but neither is caring too much about what other people think

the part of her that was very kind and viewed life with a sweet naivety is there, but heavily guarded and buried. she just feels like, it’s not something that’ll do her much good rather than leave her looking a mess or fool when someone takes advantage of it.

she’s like,,,the person that isn’t afraid to knock you down a few pegs but will do so with the sweetest smile on her face to really seal the deal. 

she found an interest in politics, actually hating the way things were run but really enjoying finding out why people did and voted and favored the things they did, so she’s double majoring in psychology and political science

she tries to do everything on her own and hates asking for help, like even when she really needs to, but it’s mostly because really needing someone makes her uneasy because she’s always wondering if they’re going to leave her eventually or if they’re just using her or if they really don’t care about her the way she cares for them

that being said, she’s loyal as all hell to her loved ones. like will literally help you get away with murder if you asked her for help, once you’ve reached that point you are absolutely important to her.

* character tropes !

so she’s basically the maiden in the sense that she’s typically overly self confident and finds herself in positions where she’s stuck and needs help, whether it’s being in too many things at once and being too spread out or like in actual danger. arden heavily takes after her parents in the sense that she wants to be wholly capable of taking care of herself, the feeling of being dependent on someone making her uneasy. because of this, she finds herself in situations that could’ve been completely avoided if she had just taken a step off her high horse and admitted or realized she couldn’t do it on her own. the confidence she exhibits today was a learned trait however, arden getting her heartbroken by someone she had really loved taught her how to be comfortable with herself and just be a Badass, but protect the softer side to herself from then on.

* playlist !

wasabi — little mix:

stick like toffee, sip like coffee wake up, change your mind and drop me love to hate me, crazy, shady spit me out like hot wasabi lick me up, I'm sweet and salty mix it up and down my body love to hate me, praise me, shame me either way you talk about me

arden’s a strong believer in the quote by william shakespeare “love me or hate me, both are in my favour. If you love me, i will always be in your heart… if you hate me, i’ll always be in your mind.” she’s really aware of how she can come across as, but is really selective in who she cares to spend time showing her full self to. everyone else and every other opinion gets taken with a grain of salt. she’s definitely had friends that only used her for her name and then dropped her once they were done,she wasted no time moving on.

hold me while you wait — lewis capaldi:

i wish you'd cared a little more (hold me while you wait) i wish you'd told me this before (hold me while you wait) my love, my love, my love, my love won't you stay a while? (hold me while you wait)

a few years ago, she was in a relationship where she had cared a little bit too much about what they thought of her, finding herself seeking their approval for everything, truly believing this person was the sun. she fell hard and fast for them and they took advantage of this and cheated on her, thinking that they would get away with it… and they did for a while. arden tried to excuse it because of how much she loved them, but was starting to feel like she was never going to be good enough for them, but staying with them until things ultimately came to an end, still holding onto the hope that things would change. eventually she realized that she couldn’t keep holding onto that relationship forever and things ended.

winter — relic:

where am i going? i can’t see nothing but the road that’s out in front of me i think it’s snowing

arden’s the worst at multitasking and it shows even in her life. she’s very one track minded and knows what she wants out of it, but only sees one way to get there, so everything that’s the tiniest bit off her track, she gets thrown off completely and needs someone to just nicely push her back in the direction she was headed.

* aesthetics !

candle lights, the breathlessness felt when seeing big city skylines, scrunchies, tart strawberries dipped in sugar, iced coffee in mason jars, long swooping cursive, high-waisted jeans, half opened jewelry boxes, setting a new pen against fresh paper, standing outside during the middle of a sun-shower, tucked in shirts, a hand reaching out to catch you when you fall, golden hour. 

* wanted plots !

i’m the worst at coming up with things but,,,,, here’s a few 

general friends: honestly some from childhood, some from high school, others from college, give me New friend with the people coming on scholarship, anything

best friends: someone that’s been by her side for years, someone she’d literally trust with her whole life

ride or dies: honestly what it says, maybe like two or three of them that have been through the thick and thin of it but still have a really strong friendship in the end?

confidant: honestly, probably someone she’s close with, but doesn’t see on a regular basis? maybe they just box together from time to time to blow off steam? it helps if they’re not someone she’d see all the time, that way she’s not constantly staring her admission in the face

bad influence: someone who can teach her to let go and get out more, care even less about what others think, especially her parents. even if that’s taking her to parties or drinking/smoking alone in a room

exes ( good, bad, anything in between ): you know the drill, hit me with the good angst. (male, female, nb)

roommate ( probably a cape coral student ): arden doesn’t like needing people but that doesn’t mean she wants to be alone, they probably have a pretty nice place together ngl. i picture it being really cozy and nicely decorated?

hook ups: you also know this drill, sometimes you gotta blow off steam. (male, female, nb)

#capecoral:intro #/. intro

[fizzyxcustard]

The Dream Walker (Part 1 of ‘Got Vampire?!’ Series)

Fandom: Sleepwallker

Summary: Part 1 of the Got Vampire?! series. Various characters interpreted as vampires. You are staying at Dr White’s sleep clinic after suffering from night terrors for most of your life. However, your dream takes a rather unusual and erotic turn. Will you find out who the stranger in your dream is? 

Pairings: Scott White x Fem!Reader, Vampire!Scott White x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, night terror references, flashbacks, sexual references, smutty dreams. 

Word count: 2292

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be added to my tag lists for a particular fandom, character, or even everything, please send me an ask or a private message and I will add you. This is the first part of an ongoing series; more characters will be added if the series shows to be interesting. 

Music inspiration/listened to for this piece: Thunderstorm sounds (I know it’s not music, but I always have something on to help me get into the zone for writing)

Masterlist of fan fiction here

You could feel the nerves rising in you. Tonight would be the night you visited Dr. Scott White’s clinic to be properly tested during an overnight observation. The night terrors had been something you suffered from now since you were a child, and due to the severity and frequency, they had contributed to anxiety and depression as an adult. Your therapist, Dr. Holland had encouraged you to seek out Dr. White and book an appointment regarding your terrors.

What if you had one of your terrors in the clinic and woke all the other patients? Surely you would all have your own separate rooms. What if you fell out of bed again, and this time did something worse than break your wrist? The terrors and dreams left you exhausted every day and with the constant feeling that someone was watching you. Managers at the lawyers’ office you worked in were only so accommodating and understanding, and had gradually become annoyed at your level of sickness from work and late turns ins on a morning.

The evening was still humid as you walked across the car park and into the clinic; your clothes felt as though they were sticking to you and the air was becoming unbearable to breathe. Thankfully, cool air hit you as you walked into the centre, past the automatic doors and down the hall to the reception area.

“I’ve come to see Dr. White. I’m due to sleep over tonight,” you announced, smiling at the grey-haired woman sat down behind the desk. She looked up at you over her glasses, seeming a little put out that you had disturbed her from completing a filing task.

“Name, please?” she asked, her tone unmoving and without any emotion.

You gave over your details of name, date of birth and address, confirming your identity.

“Dr. White’s assistant will call you through shortly,” the receptionist told you. “If you could take a seat over there. It shouldn’t be too long.”

Why were you so nervous? You could feel your hands shaking and the small bag you had brought with your clean clothes and hygiene products felt like a lead weight on your shoulder. You backed away from the receptionist’s desk and sat down on one of the seats. Magazine covers looked up at you from the small tables situated between groups of chairs. Models with pure white teeth and perfect hair gazed out, making you feel inferior.

Soon you heard your name called and a young, smiley woman, barely out of her teens came walking down the sterile hallway. Her shoes squeaked on the floor and you noticed her blonde ponytail swing in time with her happy approach.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” the assistant said, grinning at you. “We’ve had a long day today, but thankfully, you’re the only over night stay. We can have a bit of a breather.”

All of your belongings were put into a locker for safekeeping firstly, and then you were taken into Dr. White’s office. There, behind an oak desk, was a good looking man, with short dark hair, a beard and wearing an open necked white shirt under a black suit. Instantly you felt your heart speed up again, and then as he looked up at you from his seat, offering a smile, you felt a blush hit your cheeks.

“I’m Dr. White,” he said, offering his hand. He had a deep, baritone voice that wrapped around you like silk. “Please, take a seat.”

You sat down, holding your hands tight between your knees and tried not to look at him too much. You would have assumed Dr. White would have been much older, easily gaining years into his sixties, but no, he was only around forty, the very first hints of his age showing at the edges of his eyes.

Dr. White opened a file in front of him which clearly had your name on the front and date of birth. “So? In your notes I can see you’ve suffered from night terrors since you were a child, and your therapist, Dr. Holland, believes this has led to anxiety and depression. Do you remember your dreams?”

“Ummm, sometimes, yes,” you said, chewing on your thumb nail. “But mostly I wake up screaming, scratching at my window or in a different part of my house.”

“And what do you normally see in your dreams? Anything re-occurring?”

“There’s a man in the shadows, and I know he’s after me. He won’t give up, but I never see his face. Sometimes I feel something painful on my neck.”

As you explained the scenarios of your dreams, Dr. White remained silent. The only other sound apart from your voice was the gentle scratching of his pen on paper as he updated your prior appointment notes.

“I just don’t know what he wants from me,” you whispered, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. “He won’t leave me alone, and then when I’m at work or walking to get the bus, I feel like he’s still there, watching me. I don’t know who this man is but he’s become so real and I want him gone.”

Dr. White sighed and dropped his pen on the table. “Your dream sounds like an archetypical scenario of you running from your problems. In your subconscious there’s something that you fear or you’re trying hard not to confront and it’s coming to you in the form of a man. What are your views of men?”

“Excuse me?” you coughed.

Dr. White smiled. “You won’t cause any offense here. What do you think of men?”

“Umm…” you began, feeling the most nervous you had done since walking through the clinic doors. “I get intimidated by men; I always feel like they’re never bothered by me because I mean so little to them. I’m overshadowed, dismissed by them.”

“When you say that you see this man, does he always appear in shadow? You mentioned never seeing his face.”

“Yes, he’s always in shadow or darkness.”

“Is your father in your life?”

“Yes, I have a decent relationship with him. I’m closer to my mother, but my father has always been there for me, supported me. Why are you asking me about men?”

“It’s the fact that this person who comes to you is a man. Most chase or stalking dreams are completely unknown characters. How about your personal life? Do you have a partner?”

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything, Dr. White,” you replied, becoming quite anxious and frustrated at his questioning.

Dr. White noted your behaviour, sensing shame behind your movement. You had barely looked him in the eye since first contact, and the question about partners seemed to be making you extremely uncomfortable.

“I came here for help with night terrors, not you asking about my personal relationships,” you countered.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Dr. White replied softly. “I’m merely trying to understand what’s happening in your mind. Your therapist was unable to release your notes to me because of confidentiality, even between health professionals. So everything is a blank slate here. I can’t help you if you don’t open up to me. I’m in no way judging you.”

A lump stuck in your throat, and you looked away at the white wall. “I’m still a virgin,” you whispered. “I’ve just never met the right man.”

“And do you feel shame in that?” Dr. White’s tone was now softer, more concerned.

“I’ve always felt shame around myself,” you replied, crossing your arms for comfort and defence.

“Does this man ever talk to you?”

“Sometimes, and when he talks to me, I know that he’s not going to hurt me…”

Your words trailed off and you began imagining him, standing behind you. Sometimes you would feel his hands brush down your arms and a warm breath would waft across your neck. There was a tenderness about the man, a want and a need. But the terror became overwhelming, the terror of losing control.

Dr. White said no more, and escorted you through to the room that was to be yours. “There are three cameras in the room and a panic button next to your bed should you need us or there’s an emergency. Treat this like your bedroom; so if you fall asleep to music, put your headphones in. There’s a television should you find that that soothes you to sleep.”

“I normally have a shower and a hot drink before bed,” you told him.

“There are showers just down the hall and we have a kitchen where drinks can be made. We want to replicate everything exactly like a normal environment you sleep in. The only difference is, we will attach electrodes to your scalp which will read your brain waves through an electroencephalograph, or EEG.”

***

By the time that you had showered and drank your hot mug of tea, you bid goodnight by Dr. White’s assistant. They had even allowed you to wear your own pyjamas. You got into bed, noting that it was just like a normal hospital bed. It was fairly comfortable, although the electrodes dug into your head when you turned against the pillow. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be exactly ‘normal’.

It took you about half an hour longer to fall asleep than it normally did. Being in strange places always made you nervous, thus sleep didn’t descend quite so swiftly.

However, the dream began the same. You were walking down a street, darkness surrounding you. Small pockets of light shone from the street lamps, highlighting houses. You walked further, noting that you had no shoes on.

***

Scott sat in his office, comfortable in his high backed leather seat. There was a smile between his lips, a content smile. He closed his eyes, resting back into the comfort and allowed his mind to drift, sailing away to where he knew his lover would be. His untouched, pure, lover.

Hunger was rising in his belly, for both energy and to sate the rising lust. He whipped through darkness, his eyes burning through the shadows, until he saw a figure bathed in white. “My love,” he whispered. “You found me.”

Normally his lover was scared, unable to turn to face him. She would remain with her back to him and there he would feed, sinking his teeth into her warm, inviting flesh. That energy, that life force, it kept both of them alive. Her life force and blood ran through his veins. Connection, forever.

Tonight was different. She was dressed in white, unlike the usual dark colours. An aura was bright around her. And as Scott got closer, she turned. Finally, he saw her face. And she saw his.

“My love,” he whispered again, cupping her cheek. Oh, that warmth. He could hear and smell her delicious life force, pulsing. He kissed her, drawing his arms around her where they both felt their energies pour into one being, and they disappeared from the darkness.

***

You were lying on a bed, encased in the stranger’s arms. But he wasn’t a stranger any longer. His silver eyes would not leave you and his hand began to drift up your inner thigh towards your womanhood. “You’ve waited all this time for me?” he whispered.

“Only you,” you whispered in response and kissed him, pulling him down to you.

The heat was rising as he kissed down your body, his beard tickling your flesh. Over your breasts, your stomach, navel and down to that place you had kept pure, just for him. You arched your back as waves of pleasure crashed through you. To think that all those years of terror had come to this. If only you had turned around sooner to see his face.

Then his lips began caressing your neck, his tongue licking over your vein. He could feel the pulsing, jolting through the tip of his tongue. If there was one thing he wanted, it was you. To be part of him for all eternity, turned and cleansed by him.

“I’m yours,” you told him. He was still nuzzling hungrily against your neck. “Take what you want, my love.”

He drew back, looking upon you. “Are you sure? There is no turning back once we have gone this far.”

“I would never want to turn back and be without you,” you replied.

Your hand caressed his cheek and he leaned in to your touch, his lips just touching your palm. “I’ve waited for you for so long and now we can be together,” he replied, a tear falling down his cheek.

The pain stripped through your neck and caused fire to roar in your veins. His teeth pierced through your skin, releasing the energy that would keep you alive for eternity. His hard, heavy body remained against you as a shield and as a guard, making sure you could not move from his hold. But you gave yourself freely this time.

Then complete darkness.

***

The next morning, Dr. White’s assistant knocked on the doctor’s door. Nothing. He should have been in his office, examining your results. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and proceeded to walk into the office, only to find that he wasn’t there. “Dr. White?” she called.

Suddenly a nurse shot into the room. “Kayleigh, the patient from last night is missing.”

Both the nurse and assistant raced into your room, astonished to find that you were not there. No one had seen you leave and the door had been locked all night.

“What’s that?” the nurse asked, approaching the empty bed. The electrodes were splayed across the pillow and just below them, in the spot your neck would have rested was a small droplet of blood.

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#fanfiction #vampire #night terrors #dr scott white #sleepwalker #dr Scott white x fem!reader #Scott white x fem!reader #vampire!Scott white x fem!reader

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Nine

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

It is still technically Monday here as I’m finally finished editing the latest chapter for my @cssns​ story. I'm going to preface this chapter with a couple of warnings though. First, this chapter ran really long. Like over 5K words long (sorry). There's a lot of action that takes place in a short span of time so rather than make it too choppy, I just allowed the sections to flow. Second is a trigger warning for a mildly violent scene that closes the chapter. It's not graphic but if it isn't your thing, the events will be explained in the next chapter.

I also want to thank @lassluna​ for all of her beta assistance in keeping me on track and to @cocohook38​ for her amazing artwork!

So, now we're going to pick up right where we left off: Emma has just gotten an earful about her family history from Mr. Gold and took possession of the items her mother sold to the shady pawnbroker years earlier. She's anxious to see what's there, hoping she'll discover what drove her mother away.

Read from the beginning on Tumblr:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight       AO3     FF.net

Her first cup of Granny's super-strength blend coffee was nearly drained before Emma remembered the primary reason she'd come here - food. An angry growl from her gut served as a staunch reminder so she immediately flagged Ruby over to the corner booth in the rear of the diner and ordered a plate of scrambled eggs and wheat toast with butter. Ruby delivered the order to the kitchen and returned to warm up Emma's coffee while she waited for her breakfast to be prepared. The bubbly waitress tried to make a little bit of small talk, but it was obvious that her deputy friend was quite distracted.

Emma had wasted little time perusing her mother's long-hidden belongings. The moment she'd slid into the isolated booth, she had set the two unexamined books to the side, deciding to delve into the mysterious cardboard box first. She anxiously peeled away the layers of clear packaging tape, wishing she'd brought a pocket knife with her because the butter knife on the table wasn't particularly helpful. Once the tape was finally off, she unfolded the flaps, eager to discover what lay within.

Leaning over the box to get a better view of the contents, she could now see that they were mostly unsurprising. There was a porcelain figurine that didn't appear particularly valuable, two large crystals that appeared to be either quartz or amethyst (if she had to guess) and some jewelry. She'd not gotten very far in her study of crystals and the role they played in witchcraft but she knew they'd likely been highly prized at one time due to their quality.

She lifted both crystals from the box, realizing that they accounted for most of the box's weight and that they were mesmerizingly beautiful. The faceted sides were sharp and the clarity was nearly flawless. She doubted Gold had given her mother anything near their value but now they were hers and Emma intended to treasure them and their power.

For now though, she placed them atop the books so she could examine the various pieces of jewelry which consisted of a beaded bracelet, two rings and a cameo pendant with a gold chain. She picked up the two rings first seeing that one was a very heavy gold man's ring topped with a large, bezel-set garnet and the second was a squared off silver ring with inlaid onyx. She couldn't begin to speculate on the stories behind the two rings or how they'd ended up in this box, but there was no doubt that they were expensive.

Dropping the rings back inside the cardboard box, she brought out the bracelet and pendant next. The bracelet was strung with alternating round onyx and gold tone beads and was held together with a golden clasp. It was pretty, but Emma didn't sense that it was anything special. She last turned her attention to the pendant which featured a cameo carved from mother of pearl that still possessed some of its original luster even after all of these years. As she held it in her hand, she found that there was a seam running all around the oval pendant, discovering that it was a locket.

Her thumbnail found the tiny latch on the right hand side and as she flicked it, a tiny gasp escaped from her mouth when the halves fell open. One side of the locket housed a miniature photograph of their family - a photo that had probably been taken not long after Emma's birth as she was just a tiny infant cradled in her mother's arms. A tear started to well in her eye as she stared at the images of her father's smiling face and the goofy grin on the young, tow-headed David. Unless they'd been faking it well, this was a picture-perfect image of a happy family.

So what had gone wrong?

Remembering that she was in public, Emma placed all of the items back inside the box and closed up the flaps before she became an emotional mess. She took a moment to glance over the books before her food arrived, finding that one was a history of witchcraft in New England - probably a good read for later but nothing that was drawing that personal attachment like the objects in the box had. The second one was far more interesting though - leather-bound and sealed with a clasp that was locked. Was this a journal or diary of some kind?

Temptation loomed to open the leather-bound volume right away, but Emma wisely decided against it just as Ruby plopped a plate in front of her. "Breakfast is served," the giddy waitress announced with a gesture towards the diner's entrance, "but isn't that your friend over there?"

Emma glanced up from her stash of goodies that were spread all over the table, feeling her cheeks flushing as she noticed the man about to enter the restaurant. "Oh, yeah, it is," she responded as she hurriedly stacked the box and books to make more room on the table top. "I was hoping he'd join me for breakfast after we ran into each other outside Gold's shop."

"Well then, I'll bring another mug and a full pot of coffee for the two of you," Ruby offered with a sly wink. "I'm sure the two of you would like a bit of privacy…"

"It's just breakfast, Rubes," Emma reminded her friend, shaking her head as Walsh stepped through the doorway. He craned his neck, scanning the room to see where Emma was seated as she waved to him and shooed Ruby back to the kitchen.

"I'm glad you were able to make it," Emma greeted him as he sat down on the padded vinyl bench opposite her. "Were you able to find out any new information about your shipment?"

"Not much yet. I have to go back in about an hour, after Mr. Gold reaches out to some of his connections. Things are looking promising though."

"But that means you'll be leaving town soon," she commented with a frown furrowing her lips.

"Not for a few days yet," he insisted, "and even then, I have no need to hurry back to Boston. My client will be out of town all next week…"

"Well, then - that helps…," she smiled, ready to say something else just as Ruby materialized at their booth to drop off a stoneware mug and a stainless steel coffee pot.

"What can I get for you, hon?" Ruby asked Walsh to interrupt Emma's train of thought.

"I'm honestly not all that hungry. How about just some toast this morning?" he replied.

"No problem. White, wheat or rye?" the waitress asked for clarification, noticing that Emma was glaring at her to hurry up.

"I'll take rye, please - with lots of butter."

"You got it. 'Back in a jif…," Ruby said with a huge smile. Emma shoved a corner of her toast into her mouth as Ruby sauntered away since it was easier (and far less painful) than biting her tongue. Maybe having Walsh meet her here for breakfast wasn't the best idea after all.

"Ugh, I completely forgot what I was going to say before she came over to take your order," Emma sighed.

"It's alright. I'm sure it will come back to you before we're done with breakfast."

"I guess… It will probably depend on how many more interruptions we get." Emma gave a sideways glance in the general direction of her waitress friend. "Ruby can be a little overwhelming at times. She thinks she's the town's unofficial matchmaker."

"Is she?" Walsh chuckled. "Is that what she thinks we are? A match?"

"Probably… We used to be, right? Is that what we're supposed to be?"

"I suppose it's a possibility…," he replied, pausing before adding "if that's something you want? Is that something you want?"

"I'm honestly not sure what I want, Walsh…," she began, her voice trailing off as she felt her cell phone vibrating from inside her jacket pocket. "Hang on a second… Let me see who this is…" Withdrawing her phone, she was somewhat surprised to see Graham's name emblazoned across the screen. "Graham? Wonder what he's calling me for? He knows it's my day off…" She chose to ignore the call and let it ring into her voicemail but mere seconds later, the display lit up once again with another call from her fellow deputy. "I'm so sorry… If he's being this persistent, it must be important. I've got to take this…"

"It's fine, Emma. I understand. Duty calls."

"I'll be right back," she promised, sliding across the vinyl seat as she answered the call. "Graham? What's up? You know I'm off today…," she said in greeting while ducking into the hallway leading to the restrooms for a little bit of privacy.

"I'm sorry, Em. I know it's your day off and that you're nursing a hangover but there's a guy here at the station who's looking for you and insists on talking only to you."

"Really? Who is it?"

"He said his name is William Smee, but that's all he'll tell me. He's really agitated and wants to speak to you."

"Mr. Smee?" What could he want with her? "I wonder what's going on… I'm just over at Granny's. I'll be over in a few minutes."

"You actually know this guy?" Graham asked incredulously.

"He's one of the crew members from the ship I was sent to the other day to investigate that drunk and disorderly…" Graham didn't need to know more at this moment.

"Oh, okay then. He's really worked up but I'll try to keep him calm, if I can." Emma disconnected the call before she heard all of Graham's statement, walking briskly back to the table to gather her belongings. "Walsh - I am so sorry. There's something going on over at the station and Graham needs my help. I'm gonna owe you a rain check."

"What's going on? Nothing serious, I hope…"

"I don't really know but I'll call you later when it's all sorted out." She picked up the stacked books and cardboard box as she fished a few dollar bills out of her jeans pocket. "This should cover breakfast, not that I got to eat most of it…" She took one last gulp of coffee and retrieved her remaining slice of toast. At least it was portable.

"Okay, call me when you're free," he instructed. "We need to address the direction our conversation was headed…"

"That we do. I don't know how long this will take though so good luck with Gold. Hope he gets you some answers."

"I know he will," Walsh assured her as she scurried towards the door, adding a comment to himself once she was out of earshot. "He knows what's good for business…"

**********

Emma was still chewing the last bit of her toast when she arrived at the Sheriff's station, wishing that she would have had Ruby put the rest of her coffee in a to go cup as she swallowed the dry bread. Oh, well, she thought as she pushed open the door to find the Jolly Roger's first mate pacing in front of Graham's desk while ringing his knit cap between his hands.

"Deputy Swan!" Smee's face lit up as he saw her step through the doorway. "I wasn't sure where I could turn and then I thought of you…"

"What's going on, Mr. Smee?" she asked as she allowed the door to swing closed behind her while she approached the anxious sailor.

"It's the Captain, Ma'am… He's gone missing…"

"Missing?" Emma was honestly stunned by his announcement. "Are you sure? Maybe he just went off to explore the town or something?"

"No, no… He's definitely missing. I heard him return last night, a few hours after he'd left saying he was going to meet you, but he didn't join the crew this morning to oversee the AM duties like he normally does. Cap'n's an early riser, Ma'am. He's always there to oversee the crew, so I went to check his quarters to see if he was feeling unwell, but he wasn't there. His bunk hadn't even been slept in and as I returned topside, I also found his cell phone lying on the deck not far from the hatch. Cap'n wouldn't have just left without it…"

"You saw this missing Captain last night?" Graham asked her in hopes of clarifying both the timeline and the potential nature of the relationship. Meeting someone late at night hinted that there was certainly more to this than a casual acquaintance from the earlier investigation. "Wait - is that who you got drunk with last night?"

"Yes, I was with Captain Jones last night," she stated, glaring at Graham and letting him know with her icy stare that she didn't like what he was implying. "We took a walk down to the park after I had an argument with Regina, had a couple of drinks and then he walked me back here before returning to his ship."

"Okay then… So Mr. Smee, you're certain that your Captain did return to the ship last night?" Graham continued his line of questioning, unfazed by Emma's ire. He didn't really care if his queries made his co-worker squirm a bit. If there really was a missing person here in Storybrooke, their job was to gather enough information to find that person.

"Oh, yes," Smee replied. "He returned sometime after midnight. I heard the clunking of his boots on the deck. After years of serving together on a small ship, you learn to recognize certain sounds…"

"You know the sound of every crew member's boots?" Graham asked the first mate curiously.

"Well, no, not everyone, but the Cap'n has a very particular gait. And his boots have a metal tap on the toe that he tends to drag sometimes…"

"Alright then, I suppose we can establish that Captain Jones returned to the ship, but you didn't hear him leave? Did you hear anyone else up on deck?"

"No, Sir. Not either. I only heard the Captain. I just assumed that he went down the hatch to his quarters and went to sleep, at least until I found his bunk empty this morning."

"So, if no one else was up on that deck and no one saw or heard Jones leave the ship, where the hell did he go?" Emma wondered. "Something isn't adding up…"

"I agree," Graham added. "Mr. Smee, aside from the incident earlier this week caused by your fellow sailor, did anyone on the ship, and specifically, your Captain, have any run-ins with anyone here in town?"

"No one that I know of," Smee responded. "We've only been in this port a few days so I can't imagine that the Cap'n would have run afoul of anyone in that short time."

"Well, thankfully, Storybrooke has a magical advantage so there may be a way for us to locate him quickly," Emma told him as she placed her armload of her mother's things onto her desk to free up her hands. She fished her cell phone from her pocket as she asked Smee an additional question. "Mr. Smee, do you think you could get us a personal item belonging to Captain Jones so that we could try a locator spell?"

"Oh, yes. Of course. What do you need?" Smee asked.

"A piece of clothing or maybe an object that he touches regularly," she suggested.

"I can think of a few things. I'll go see if I can find them."

"Graham, do you think you could give Mr. Smee a ride down to the harbor?" she queried. "We can get this done a lot faster…"

"And why can't you?" Graham countered.

"Because I need to make arrangements to get everything started so we can attempt this spell… Unless you'd like to call Regina Mills on a Saturday morning?" Emma replied, offering her phone to the other deputy.

"Come right this way, Mr. Smee," Graham stated, grabbing his keys from the desktop as he leapt to his feet.

**********

Emma couldn't be certain if Regina was pandering to her after last night's debacle or if she was agreeing to help out of genuine concern. Either way, the mayor instructed Emma to meet her at the vault in half an hour with an item belonging to Captain Jones so they could attempt a locator spell. Emma thanked her and placed a quick call to Graham before heading to Storybrooke cemetery, requesting that Graham bring whatever Mr. Smee found to the graveyard.

Her interrupted breakfast was forgotten as she dashed out of the station's rear door, taking the shortcut through the alley to get to the cemetery which was three blocks away. Graham was already awaiting her in the parking area, casually leaning against the front fender of the Sheriff cruiser. He was clutching a leather pouch that she speculated contained the object Smee collected but Emma could tell from his body language that he wasn't particularly comfortable with this rendezvous location. Graveyards clearly weren't his thing.

With no time for Graham's hang-ups, she retrieved the pouch from him, barely acknowledging his grumblings that he was calling David. She dashed across the cemetery grounds to the mausoleum and then descended the narrow staircase into the vault below. She had expected to find only Regina awaiting her so she was somewhat surprised to see Zelena's face when she rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps. The redheaded Mills sister was stirring something Emma couldn't make out on the prep table but Emma had to venture further into the vault to locate Regina. The younger sister was in the main chamber, drawing two intersecting, double-ended arrows over the inlaid pentacle on the marble floor using an aerosol can of bright white spray chalk. The arrows were clearly intended to be directional but Emma saw nothing else to indicate how they would help locate Killian.

"Emma, do you have something that belongs to the missing man?" Zelena asked, turning away from her concoction. We have everything else just about ready."

"Yeah, right here," Emma replied, raising the leather pouch.

"Great. Let's see what we have to work with…," Zelena wondered as Emma dug into the bag and retrieved two vastly different items - Killian's prosthetic hand and a four-inch diameter nautical compass with a shiny brass casing.

"Is that a hand?" Regina scowled, her nose crinkling in disgust.

"A prosthetic one," Emma explained, rolling her eyes at Regina's disrespectful reaction. "It belongs to Captain Jones. He's an amputee. There's also a compass here."

"We'll try the compass," Regina stated, extending her right palm so that Emma could pass the object to her. "It's less creepy."

"Says the woman who keeps a stash of magical books and potions in a vault beneath her dead parents' tomb…," Emma said snidely but Regina ignored her remark. The mayor carried the compass to the center of the intersecting arrows and placed it directly at their confluence.

"Let's see if this will work…," Regina began, her wand appearing in her grasp as she flicked her wrist. She hovered the tip of her wand above the compass as she recited the spell from memory. "Spirits awaken and endow, bring alive this object now. Guide us where these arrows crossed. Help us find the one who's lost." Regina tapped the surface of the compass twice with the wand and then took a few steps backward as she waited for the magic to begin.

"Did it work?" Emma asked Zelena in a whisper, but the redhead simply lifted her index finger to her lips and shushed the deputy. Emma wasn't about to be hushed though and continued with another question. "How long does it typically take for something to happen - or to not happen?" Since she'd began studying magic, she'd gotten used to the fact that reactions weren't always instant, but she'd thought that a locator spell would give them a speedier response. Right now, it didn't appear that anything was happening - at least not until the compass began to spin wildly atop the chalk markings. "Oh…"

"Everyone, stay back," Regina warned. "There's no telling where it will go."

The compass continued to spin in the center of the crossed arrows for a few more seconds before skittering across the marble, coming to rest near one of the pentacle points. Doubting that she was going to find Killian next to a huge pentacle, Emma was still skeptical about what information this display was providing them.

"You're going to have to help me out here," Emma began, pointing to the compass on the floor. "What is this supposed to be telling us?"

"The center of the crossed arrows represents this location, our starting point. Like the arrows on that compass, these indicate cardinal directions - north, south, east and west. The missing person can be found where that plot indicates," Regina stated.

"All I see is the point of a pentacle on a marble floor," Emma stated the obvious. "What does it correspond to?"

"I can help with that," Zelena spoke up. "Here, let me show you." Zelena brandished her own wand and with a wave. "Appereat tabula!" With a swish of her wand, a huge, transparent map of Storybrooke was emblazoned across the chamber floor and as Regina had stated, the cemetery lined up perfectly with the crossed arrows on the floor. Seeing the map presented an entirely new set of challenges though as the location indicated by the spot Killian's compass had stopped was part of Storybrooke town limits that Emma wasn't at all familiar with.

"That's where he is?" Emma asked, trying to find any clues on the map. "That's quite a ways from Main Street. What's out there?"

"Mostly just dense forest," Regina replied. "There aren't many people who live out that way, but if I remember correctly, one of Robin's poker buddies has a cabin out in the woods not far from there. Maybe he could give us some more insight into who or what might be out there in those woods?"

"Seems like it would be a good place to hide someone you don't want found," Emma commented. "I need to get out there and start searching…"

"By yourself?" Regina scoffed. "Even using magic to help guide you, you're still going to need a search party and a couple of good tracker dogs. The spell might have narrowed down the search area, but that's still more than a square mile…"

"Then we need to get started… We don't know where exactly he is or what condition he might be in… We don't even know if he's alive…" Emma's anxious ramblings began to raise Regina's curiosity. Why was it that this was seeming less and less like just any missing person case?

"The spell wouldn't have given us a location if he were dead or if he were outside of Storybrooke's borders," Regina assured her as she was getting an indication that Captain Jones meant more to Emma than she was letting on. "You do seem awfully worried about this visiting captain…"

"I'm not allowed to be concerned about a missing person?" Emma countered defensively.

"Not like this. This isn't just any missing person. What's your connection to this guy?" Regina demanded.

"I like him, okay?" Emma snapped back. "We've gone out a couple of times and he's a really nice guy who doesn't deserve whatever might be happening to him!"

"Then let's do this right," Regina stated. "We'll find him. Right now, let me go upstairs and call Robin and in the meantime, I suggest you call David so that he can start pulling a team together."

"Fine," Emma grumbled, feeling even more frustrated than before. "I just wish these locator spells would be a little more specific, like maybe give us some GPS coordinates or something? You'd think magic could be a little more in sync with modern technology…"

"Magic can help with a lot of things, but it isn't science," Regina reminded her student. "And while it may have a few drawbacks, I'm certainly not ready to give it up. Are you?"

"I know it isn't scientific and no, I have no plans to stop studying magic, but it just seems to me that if you can cast a spell to find true love, or to locate a missing person, things should be a lot more specific…," Emma lamented, her choice of words perking Zelena's ear.

"I don't know about using magic to find love," Zelena commented. "Despite years of practicing, I don't know that I'd trust it. We were brought up being told that magic has a price so I've always shied away from using it for anything that personal."

"I had a conversation with Mr. Gold earlier today and he told me the same thing," Emma told her. "He gave me the story of the town's history - and the price our great-grandparents paid for this town to have magic."

"I was wondering how much you knew about Storybrooke's sordid past…," Regina spoke up. "So, you know about the warlock and his challenges?"

"Yes," Emma replied, "and I know that my mother was the warlock's last opponent. Mr. Gold said something about her being tricked into making a choice, but either he didn't know or he just didn't elaborate on what that choice was."

"From the stories I remember my mother telling us, her sister, your mother, had to choose the man she loved. She had two men in her life at the time - your father and another guy who'd swept her off her feet. She had to choose between them and I guess she picked wrong because the warlock stole her powers," Zelena explained, but her tale wasn't sitting easy on Emma's stomach. The deputy fell silent as all of the implications swirled through her overloaded brain. "Emma, are you alright? You look as though you're going to be ill…"

"Maybe…," Emma squeaked out in a barely audible whisper. "Did my mother cast a spell to help her find her true love?" The question was really rhetorical. She already knew the answer in her heart and as the pieces fell into place, she realized the increased importance of locating Killian Jones.

"Honestly, I don't really remember," Zelena replied, "but it wouldn't surprise me based on what my mother told us. Why do you want to know?"

Emma dodged Zelena follow-up question for a moment as she had more of her own that kept rolling off of her tongue. "What was the real reason my mother left Storybrooke? I know it wasn't just because she lost her powers, so what was it?"

"Our mother said it was because of you," Regina stated very matter-of-factly, the accusation sounding harsher than she intended as she watched the color drain from Emma's face. "I didn't mean it like that…"

Emma had already made the connection in her mind, she had just needed one of her cousins to confirm it. "Because I had magic…" She was suddenly nauseous at the realization and her own actions were already haunting her. "She left because she didn't want me to be the warlock's next victim, but I think it may already be too late…"

**********

During his misspent youth, Killian Jones had languished in many a dark prison cell, but none as abysmal as this solitary hell hole was feeling. Despite his own dire circumstances, he feared more for Emma. Had the person who had abducted him and tossed him into this solitary pit also taken her? If so, where was she being held? Was she in another lonely cell like this one or perhaps somewhere even worse?

His surest way of tracking time had been the growth of his own facial hair. His stubble hadn't yet filled in to a beard so he could estimate that his imprisonment hadn't been more than a day. His stomach protested with hunger and his throat was parched from thirst but that gave him enough information to be able to theorize that he'd been here between twelve and twenty-four hours, not that he could be entirely certain.

He had chosen to alternate sitting and standing, pacing about the tiny chamber in the darkness to keep his muscles from weakening should there be some opportunity for escape. He didn't want to sleep yet, but boredom was tiring him physically and mentally. What did his captor intend to do with him? Hell, he didn't even know who his captor was. Who had he offended?

Killian had just stood back up, pressing his back into the wall to straighten his spine when an eerie sensation descended upon him. The atmosphere in the room changed as he discovered that the breath he was hearing wasn't his own.

He wasn't alone in the room any longer, yet he'd heard no one enter.

"Who's there?" Killian demanded.

"I wondered how long it would take you to realize you weren't alone," a voice chuckled. "Very astute, Captain."

"What the bloody hell is this? Who are you?"

"I just had to change up the game a bit," the voice deepened to a sinister hiss. "Emma was getting too close to choosing you and I just can't let that happen…"

"What do you mean choosing me? What did you do to Emma?" Killian wanted to temper his anxiety but he was allowing fear to get the best of him.

"She's fine. She's a tad confused as to where you've gone, but she's unharmed."

"And she had better stay that way!" The threat was probably empty, but Killian couldn't stop the excited utterance

"As if you're in a position to argue," the voice reminded him. "But anyway, I assure you, I have no intention to hurt her. All I want are her powers and you were getting in my way."

"So that's why you abducted me?"

"It seemed to be a logical choice at the time, but a friend of mine provided me with a much more effective option…"

Killian didn't like the sound of any of this. "More effective option for what?"

"You know, this hook of yours is an interesting implement," the voice taunted, ignoring Killian's query. "You use it as a substitute for a missing limb and yet it's as sharp as any weapon I've handled…"

He didn't sense the figure drawing closer to him, yet Killian could feel the pressure of the cold, sharp steel against the tender skin at his throat, grazing just enough to draw a faint trickle of blood. Bloody hell - what sort of game was this? He wasn't going to get an actual answer to that unspoken question but the intent was made clear with a searing pain that suddenly radiated from his left shoulder. His hand instinctively went to the site of the wound, desperate to remove whatever was impaling his flesh and feeling the familiar shape of his own hook.

He fought to keep his eyes open. He'd been stabbed before and didn't believe he was bleeding that profusely. Unless his attacker had struck an artery, which would likely be bleeding far worse, he shouldn't be this lightheaded. He shouldn't be losing consciousness yet his knees buckled beneath his weight and he slid back to the floor.

"Have a nice slumber, Captain," was the last thing Killian remembered hearing as he collapsed and succumbed to blackness.

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #witch emma #a simple spell #that definitely isn't so simple anymore #like mother like daughter