-A child told me that he loved his lanky polar bear. He then asked for his leggy man boy to not be put in a bag. He gushed to his father about how excited he was for his limping pollo loco. I am grateful to have been the one to bestow upon him his Lego Batman toy.
-A man came through with a camouflage bandana, a long-sleeved camouflage shirt, camouflage shorts, and pasty white calves. He is guaranteed to go unnoticed as long as he stays in knee-high coverage.
-I began my shift not in the happiest of moods. This all changed when a two year-old looked me in the eye and told me, “Myungh.” Children always know just what to say.
-Two three year-old twins took turns tooting on a toy trumpet together, absolutely tickled by how perfectly they could produce their one note.
-I watched on in fascination as a man in his fifties knocked over a sign at Starbucks and spent ten minutes attempting to place it upright again. He soon found his efforts to be in vain and instead attoted to slink away in what was ultimately the most noninconspicuous manner possible.
-A woman left in the middle of paying for her purchase to wait through the line at Starbucks and get a drink. I am beginning to understand how some may doubt my stories. I, too, cannot find any way to believe that this actually happened.
-A child ran towards me, shouting, “Daddy Two!” My plan is working flawlessly and my infiltration of his family has begun.
-A triad of men came through my line, looking like a hipster version of the Three Stooges, and living up to the reputation.
-A line of intimidating frat boys spent the duration of their time in my lane debating the best brands of “choccy milk” and their go-to shaking strategies.
man, i don't even know what to do with kenny omega man; first he and kota slaughter us with their undying love. now, he riling the shit out of okada and making mr. stoic mcsparkles FEEL things like anger, disgust, irritation and maybe, just MAYBE some grudging admiration and respect. all while kenny just sort of flirts with him in his weirdo passive-aggressive way he did with kota. he's moving on in the most masochistic way possible, i think, although that title's a nice bonus as well.
okay this turned out more about kota/kenny because I hadn’t thought about Kota at all in the context of Kenny/Okada stuff till this came into my inbox, and then the information about Kota being in the G1 came out today and just. it got away from me.
In a wonderful post that you should all check out @mithen said “Kenny alternately taunts and pleads with [Kota] through social media” and I think that’s a great way to describe it.
A theme that arose in Kenny’s Kota-related interviews in 2016 was that Kota probably isn’t even on his level anymore.
“There are precious few people that can change the face of wrestling. It may even just be the two of us. So I’m going to stay here in New Japan, doing my best and waiting for him.(At the G1 finals)I finally surpassed him. I was chasing Ibushi for eight years and finally outgrew him.I hope that’s inspiration for him, right?” - Kenny Omega, Aug 28 2016 (as translated by Chris Charlton (which kenny retweeted))
He’s spent eight years chasing Kota. He wants Kota to come to him this time. He’s been waiting for him in NJPW. He’s been giving him “inspiration.”
Kota defeated Kenny the only two times they’ve ever been in singles competition against each other. Kota has also had matches against Okada at least twice that I know of (not counting Tiger Mask W, who is, of course, an entirely different person) and lost both times. Beating Okada certainly would put Kenny on a whole other level. Especially beating him clean which is something Kenny has been very focused on.
Kenny doesn’t just want to win. He’s made that clear. He wants to beat Okada. Because he’s not just after the belt and the power that comes with it. He’s after the knowledge that he’s better. Better than Okada. Better than Kota Ibushi.
if you look at it like that, one might almost say that he’s been baiting Kota in his current run for the title. I’m better than you. I’m better than you. I’m better than you. I’m doing things you never could. Come home and prove me wrong.
A/N: This was a request from @ihavetwobuckystomyname a very long time ago, and I’m super sorry that this took so long to write, hun! I hope you enjoy it! There’s a song that goes to this as well and it’s right here if you wanna listen!
Body Language - Reader and Bucky have been in a relationship for a while, and she’s ready to take the relationship to the next level. But Reader has a small problem: she’s deaf.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Deaf Reader
Warnings: Smut. Language. Slight mentions of past neglect. Bucky being adorable. NSFW!
so there’s an issue. ladybug and chat noir, the famous superhero duo of paris, are madly in love with each other. everyone can see it, the whole of paris in fact, but they don’t have a clue. so here’s the bottom line: it’s time for paris to make those two realize their true feelings for one another.
they start with matchmaking segments on the evening news. betting pools are quick to follow.
mayor bourgeois currently has 100 euros for “ship development/first kiss” on valentines day, but no one believes that’ll ever happen. (they all are actually quite happy to hand over his winnings).
“and now to pierre with our local ladynoir sightings.”
“our ladynoir matchmaking challenge. 1:7 akumas are caused by this.”
little old ladies come up to chat noir posing as ladybug’s grandmother try to set him up with “oh my sweet granddaughter, oh you’d just love her!”
ladybug and chat noir stop on a rooftop to regroup during patrol and suddenly there’s a noise, and they turn around to see the homeowner discretely sliding them a picnic basket and candle with a wink before disappearing.
they hold news specials on television. psychologists, relationship gurus, therapists, behavior analysts, renowned scientists… they all make an appearance and analyze the latest footage from ladybug and chat noir’s battles and interactions.
“do you see how he took that blow for her? he doesn’t want anything to happen to her, and that’s a sign of a man who cares.”
“she touched his nose. no, she booped his nose, and according to the youngin’s these days, that’s a clear sign of affection.”
“he was blushing. no, no, he was blushing…. no, no, why would that be wind burn? he’s obviously blushing, god, deborah.”
fake akuma alerts that lead the superheroes to a random cafe with a chef shrugging and proclaiming in a loud voice, “well, i thought that was an akuma! but alas, it was not. i am terribly sorry. but, oh no, all my customers have left! and now i have a romantic candelit dinner that will now go to waste! oh whatever should i do?!”
during an interview, ladybug is asked who her “celebrity crush” is, and she accidentally blurted out adrien. suddenly adrien is the Most Hated Man In Paris™.
mayor bourgeois, chloe’s dad, ships ladynoir™ hardcore and won’t let adrien into the hotel anymore. “you’ll give us a bad rep, son.”
gabriel has to cancel adrien’s photoshoots since using him will be bad for business. adrien is ecstatic and fuels the ladrien™ as much as he can.
eventually ladybug sets the record straight once the mobs start and says that she’s more of a “cat person” anyway.
whenever ladynoir and chat noir was alone, Can You Feel The Love Tonight?, My Heart Will Go On, and A Thousand Years will randomly be played by conveniently (strategically) placed around the city.
eventually ladybug and chat noir agree to fake date to get paris off their backs. there’s a parade. national ladynoir day. school is cancelled.
“so when are you gonna propose?” is the question chat noir hears the most.
Okay soooo…I’ve decided to talk a bit about Scorpio men/boys. First of all, I don’t know any Scorpio boy who isn’t attractive in any possible way. I have been in a relationship with one for more than 10 months and I guess I have changed a bit since that. The thing with Scorpios is that they seem attractive, mysterious, lovable and romantic, but also distant and cold at the same time. They put passion in everything. You might think they’ve given up on what they want, but that’s so wrong. Even if something’s impossible and they know that it is, they keep on fighting and putting everything in it. Sometimes it also scares them that they are so passionate, and they just shut it off and pretend they have no emotions. They push people away and won’t tell them why because they don’t even know why themselves. And yes, maybe they are miserable, selfish and loners sometimes, but fact is that they NEED someone who just understands them and loves them. Sometimes they need this person so much that they search for that perfect person in everyone, so long, that they may have tried it with too many people. This is why people often call them fuckboys or womanizers. But it’s not that they just want a relationship with every pretty woman, it’s just because they need someone and try to find this person because without them, it’s hard for Scorpios. Sure, they have friends and many people who adore them. But most of this relationship are platonic and sometimes shallow. They need something true, something honest. Something where they can be themselves completely, without having to fear of being judged, rejected or even hated for who they are. And if they found this one person, who they finally can trust and open up to, share their secrets with, be funny and laugh with, it’s heaven on earth with a Scorpio man. You are his queen, his best buddy, his secret lover and you have his sudden romantic, vulnerable heart that seemed to be so far away, so distant, so cold. If they once trust you and love you and you feel the same way for them, then please, for god’s sake, don’t ruin it. You won’t find anyone else who cares that much for you like a Scorpio man cares for his woman.
where you trip over some boxes/files that were left on the floor by Yoongi (your crush and a long-ish time friend) and spill coffee you had on your new shirt. he wants to by you dinner as an apology and things take off when he wants to drive you home ^^
THIS IS SO SHIT HONESTLY I WANT TO CRY BUT I HAD NOTHING ELSE TO POST AND THIS IS ONE OF THE FIRST REQUESTS I HAD EVER GOTTEN, I AM SO SORRY IT HAS TAKEN FUCKING MONTHS TO POST THIS AND IM SORRY ITS SO SHITTY <3
Your arms were engulfed with coffee cups and folders as you rushed to your desk. You were already 5 minutes late, and you knew your boss wouldn’t be happy.
Fuck you hated your job.
You saw people exchange glances as you sat on the small table, slamming the folders down carelessly. You were in no mood to return fake smiles today. “Now that’s not the right attitude to come into work with.” The, deep, tense voice that made your smile turn into a frown every time your ears recognised it. You turned to look behind you, to see him. His jet black hair seemed glossy, a smug smirk placed on his lips as he looked down at you. You turned back to your computer screen.
“Sorry, Mr. Min..” You mumbled, typing impatiently as you tried to ignore your bosses presence.
“No need to apologise, Y/N, but you need to understand, that in this company, we all have a positive attitude.” He whispered from behind you, his lips inches away from your ear.
You couldn’t help but snort at his remark. Was he that stupid to not realise that not fucking everyone was as happy and cheery as him? Yoongi raised an eyebrow at the unusual sound that escaped you.
“Yes.” You nodded, breaking the awkward silence that was taking place between the two of you.
“Okay, good.” Yoongi nodded, his hand squeezed your shoulder. The warmth against your clothed skin made you feel slightly uncomfortable at his unnecessary touch.
“Please don’t touch me.” You asked, your voice blank as you tried to stare at the computer screen. Failing in the process. Your eyes travelled to his large hand, veins bulging as he gripped your shoulder.
Although you had no possible intimate feelings towards your boss. You had to admit that he was a handsome man, and that if you were to have a ‘crush’ on this man, you would gladly fall at his feet.
“You must have taken my sign of reassurance out of context, I apologise Y/N” Yoongi chuckled, his hand falling by his side again, a smirk playing at his rosy pink lips.
“Well I apologise for taking it out of context, Mr. Min.” You smiled, turning around so you were facing him once again.
“Please, call me Yoongi” Yoongi smiled down at you, his hands now placed behind his back. He was indeed a formal man, who was enthusiastic enough to keep his workers irritated and tired 24/7.
“Okay, Yoongi, now please can I get back to my work?” You asked, annoyed at his lingering presence.
Usually people would scurry away from your boss, trying their best to ‘behave’ in a formal manner. To look good in front of him. To be like him.
But you decided to turn the other way, being honest and rude to him as much as you could. You couldn’t help it. He just seemed to dehumanise everything in his way, and you weren’t going to let the impact he had on other people, affect you.
“Of course” He nodded at you, patting your shoulder once more before turning his back to you and walking to his office.
“Oh fuck this” You breathed out, your eyes glancing at your watch.
You were going to be late, again.
You sipped your at your coffee, hissing as you swallowed the scorching hot liquid, you took no notice of your untied shoes, and before you knew it, you were tripping over your own feet, the hot beverage spilling carelessly over your hand.
You cussed, trying you hardest to focus on the way you were going.
You yelped, crashing against a soft chest. The large hands found their way to your hips as everything you had once carried was now on the ground. You cussed as you felt a sting against your chest, a painful, burning sensation that had settled there.
“Woah, hey, those boxes shouldn’t have been there” A deep, soft chuckle broke the awkward silence.
“Shit.” You muttered, wincing as you started to realise that your face and body was pressed up against Min Yoongi’s, you slowly pulled your face away from his chest, to look up at him, flustered and embarrassed at the position you were both in.
His eyes studied your shy, guilt ridden face before travelling down to your chest, where the coffee had made your sheer red blouse expose your black, lace bra. Your breasts looked so plump and round in the wet shirt, that it was merely impossible for him to not think about dirty things.
“Y-you look like you’re in pain.” Yoongi stuttered, grabbing your wrists and pulling you out of the way of the boxes and anything that could possibly cause another commotion.
“Yoongi, I am fine.” You reassured him, trying to pull away from his firm grasp.
You could see the lust in his eyes, you could smell his desire. He wanted you so badly, seeing you, there, with your breasts practically exposed as your teeth overlapped your bottom lip in a why that turned Yoongi on.
You turned him on.
Yoongi thought for a moment, before releasing his grip from your wrists, a smile playing on his lips. “I should have looked where I was going, I was actually looking to see where you were-” He started, running a thumb across your heated cheeks.
God dammit why was he always following you.
“You know, to see if you had those files I needed for the meeting later this evening.” He smiled, shaking his head as he thought about your shocked expression when you had collided with Yoongis chest. He felt comforted by you, the weight between you two had been such a stimulating experience, even if it only lasted a minute or two.
You cussed under your breath. Yoongi had specifically told you to bring those files today. The meeting he was going to was practically his promotion on the line.
And you had let him down, once again.
“Shit, I’ll go home straight away and get them, I am so sorry, I was in such a rush this morning and-”
“How about we go out for lunch, and then I can overlook the papers with you, so were both confident about the level of work?” Yoongi asked, grinning.
“I mean, I guess so. But I have to change, I can’t go anywhere looking like this.”
“In my eyes, you look gorgeous-”
“Watch it, Yoongi.”
“But if you are worried about your appearance, I would happily drive you to your home so you can change.”
You hesitated, but nodded, turning around, grabbing the folders you had brought with you to work and threw them on your desk. You were coming back later anyway.
On the car drive home all Yoongi could look and think about was you and your body. The way the seatbelt wrapped around your curvy body made your breasts pop out made him grow, but Yoongi was a man who could control himself in these types of situations.
“Turn right” You told your boss, your voice hoarse and shaky.
You were nervous to say the least.. You had never really interacted with Yoongi out of work, so this was a first for you.
“Just park there, my car got towed a couple days ago so theres a free spot.” you mumble, pointing at the empty space.
You stepped out of the car, hissing as the cold air hit you. Rushing to the door, you unlocked it, motioning him to come inside quickly, it was cold, and your apartment was warm, cold usually overtakes heat at a rapid pace. And you liked being warm.
Without argument Yoongi rushed inside, looking around the room. It seemed cozy, a suitable size for someone who lived alone. He couldn’t complain.
“I’ll be 5 minutes, make yourself at home.” You muttered, strolling to your bedroom, grasping clothes from your wardrobe as if it was a race.
You slipped out of your clothes and placed on a white button up shirt and black jeans slipping on grey converse. You weren’t going to make yourself look sophisticated, you were too tired.
Yoongi looked around your apartement, his long slender fingers trailing across old novels that had been shoved into the oak wooden bookcase, to never be used again.
Without thinking he had walked right into your room. You were facing away from the door. But he saw you. In all your glory.
Your black, lace underwear hooked onto your hips, your ass lightly bouncing as you hummed softly to yourself. He looked at the mirror tactically, to get a better view of those beautiful breasts.
Fuck he shouldn’t be doing this.
He forcefully pulled himself away from the door, walking quietly back to the living room, Yoongi slumped onto the sofa. taking a deep breath, he inhaled your sweet, musky scent. The house smelt just like you, like it was embedded with roses and pine.
“I’m sorry for taking more than five minutes” You chuckled, standing infront of him sheepishly.
He smirked, standing up before gesturing you towards the door. You nodded, grabbing the files that were intended to go with you this morning.
Yoongi had told you that you were going for lunch. Not to the fanciest restaurant in town.
“I’ll just have the steak, tender, with fries.” Yoongi nodded at the waiter, passing his menu to him.
“Can I just have the pasta?” You asked shyly, passing him the menu too, thanking him as he walked away.
“You don’t need to be so shy..” Yoongi laughed, clapping his hands together as he stared down at the files.
“Ah, yes” You placed the papers on the table and started to go through them with him, pointing out your mistakes and what you thought could be improved.
He loved the way you spoke. You talked too fast, and that made him smile. And whenever you asked what was so funny, he would just shake his head and waver his hand for you to carry on with the conversation.
The way your fingers fumbled with your bracelet whenever you admitted to a mis-correction in the work. It made him smile. The way your cheeks puffed out as you started to get more tipsy. It made him smile.
Everything you did, made him smile.
You made him smile.
You both staggered out of the restaurant, giggles and chuckles muffled by the wind. Yoongi waved his hand out for a taxi. Once one had accepted the request, you both slid into the back.
“Fuck.” He hissed, shaking his head.
“I must have left my phone at yours.” He sighed, apologising for the inconvenience.
“Its okay, just come and get it” you shrugged, resting your head against the window. It felt cold against your heated skin.
You gave directions to the taxi driver, sitting quietly.
Yoongi glanced at you, he bit his lip. You looked so fucking hot. Your hair was stuck to your face from the heat inside of the restaurant, he bit his lip, looking away.
You gestured for him to come back inside of you apartment, throwing your coat onto the dining room chair carelessly. You turned to face him. You had to admit, within the past few hours, you had started to feel squirmish. There was no lying that you were drunk. But even when you were sober, you felt too comfortable with him.
How about you tease him?
Everyone teases, it cant be that bad, right?
You decided to go with the choice that could possibly make you lose your job. You looked at him, his black hair was messy from the heat and rain, his face was shiny from the humidity in the restaurant, he looked so inviting.
“Yoongi..” You smiled kindly, your voice seemed to had become higher within seconds of making your decision.
“Yes?” He looked at you, his brown eyes locking with yours, He was intimidating, even when you were drunk, you could still see the danger in those orbs.
“Its getting pretty late, I mean, you could bunk here for the night?” You stammered, your voice laced with alchohol.
“Are you sure? I mean I could just take a cab home.” He suggested, biting his lip as he smiled.
“I’m sure.” You gave a laugh, walking to the kitchen before grabbing a bottle of wine, “Wine?” You asked, stumbling slightly as you grabbed a wine glass, waiting for an answer.
“Of course.” Yoongi chuckled as he watched you from the sofa, smirking at your drunken state.
You poured the liquid, spilling some of it on the white kitchen top, causing a pool of red booze to form around the half filled glasses. Picking them up you brought them to the oak coffee table, leaving the spillage in the kitchen to miraculously clean itself.
It had been a couple of hours or so since Yoongi and you had stumbled into your apartment ‘under the influence’, and you both had started to sober up.
But that didn’t stop you two from flirting with each other.
During the hours the two of you had spent together, you had started to tease, subtly, unbuttoning the buttons on your shirt leisurely, until the crease of your breasts was exposed. You could see him starting to stare at your chest more and more throughout conversations, his eyes laced with lust and desire.
“Don’t do that.” You smirked, raising your eyebrow accusingly at the young man.
“Hm?” He snapped his head back up to your face, shaking away his devilish thoughts.
“Look at my chest while we’re talking about smoking in offices.” You chuckled, biting your lip purposefully
“That’s not the only thing that’s smoking tonight..” Yoongi gave a growl, his hand creeping up to your thigh.
“And what would that ‘thing’ be?” You breathed out, leaning in closer to him, you could feel his hot breath radiating off your nose.
“You.” He whispered, pressing his lips against yours, he pushed you back, his lips still connected. Your head hit the arm of the sofa softly. Yoongi laughed, his hand lay at the side of your head as he hovered over you, licking his lips in anticipation.
“Then cool me down…” You whispered back, cupping his face with your hands.
He winked at you, nodding slowly as his head started to lower, leaving a trail of colourful marks all the way down to your stomach. You gave moans of delight as the sweet touches sent shivers to your core.
His hands fumbled with your shirt, unbuttoning the last few buttons that were closed. they travelled to your jeans, he paused and looked up at you, “Do ever wear anything else?” He teased, sliding them off with no trouble.
You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, your hands grasping his hair as he kissed your pelvis, his lips travelled down to your thighs. You blushed as he lay on his stomach, opening your legs and pushing the black lace material that covered your slick folds to the side. He observed the pink, juicy flesh, humming to himself.
“So vibrant Y/N..” He chuckled, spreading your lips with his fingers, your breath hitched as he did so. The two digits brushing against your clit, “Oh did that feel nice?” He raised an eyebrow, repeating the action.
You released a short moan, your hands gripping the sides of the sofa. He chuckled, his tongue licking a long stripe up your folds. You groaned, involuntarily spreading your legs wider.
“That feels good..” You whispered, biting your lip.
He mumbled against you, the vibrations making you arch your back. he released his lips from your heat, admiring your lower half for a couple of seconds before delving back in. You whined as he pushed his middle finger inside of you, the long digit sliding in and out of you, your juices shined on his finger.
His lips found their way back onto your core, engulfing the soft pink flesh that lay before him. A chorus of moans escaped you as he flicked his tongue into your delicious pink heat.
You were starting to feel lightheaded, and the tight coil that was once wrapped securely inside of you had began breaking and before you knew it, it snapped. You were practically drowning in pleasure, tingles travelling through all parts of your body at once. You exhaled, the hazy feeling of the aftermath of your orgasm coming to you all at once.
Looking down, you caught a glimpse of yoongi, his eyes looking up at you, his hands wrapped around your thighs and his lips, shining with your juices.
“Oh Yoongi…” You groaned as his licked his lips, the sound of his belt unbuckling making you sit up automatically. He looked at you, licking his lips hungrily. You smirked, grabbing his collar and pulling him towards you, your face inches away from Yoongi’s.
Your hands grasped at the material that covered his lower half, pulling them down eagerly. His cock proudly made a tent in his boxers. You licked your lips in anticipation, your fingers hooking under the cotton fabric, dragging them slowly down his toned legs, your nails scraping delicately against his warm pale skin.
The fabric pooled at his ankles, along with his pants. Your fingers started to trail back up his legs, you laid eyes on his sex, it had arose even more, his shaft an angry red. it was noticeable that he hadn’t had much action for a while His head tilted back as you wrapped your hand around his member, slowly pumping him, a chorus of groans escaped him as your hand moved faster and gripped tighter by the second, along with that your confidence grew stronger as you cupped his balls, your mouth watered as you stared at the image infront of you, Yoongi, his cock being pumped by your small hand, his adams apple bobbing as he moaned, his toned arms and legs flexing as he tensed up. You knew he was close to his climax already.
Your tongue swirled around his tip, making him grasp your hair, tugging at it desperately, “Oh baby.” He groaned, looking down at you, you looked so fucking hot with your pretty little mouth wrapped around his hard cock, it was a sight to remember.
You tried your best to take him all, but you started to gag, your eyes watering, instead you used you wrapped your hand once more around the length you couldn’t take. You started to move your head and hand at the same pace, your lips dark and wet with saliva, hollowing your cheeks intensely.
Yoongi releases a groan, he was so close to spilling his see, the overstimulation that you were causing him made him wince. He growled, before pulling you away from his member, you were so focused on sucking him off you gasped in shock as you were turned around and bent over, his hand made contact with your ass, the slight sting making you moan with pleasure, you were still soaked from before, he pulled your panties down, you couldn’t see him but you could hear him sucking on his finger, the loud ‘pop’ indicating that his mouth wasn’t the only thing that his finger was going into.
The digit slipped inside of you easily, sliding it in and out the pleasure that waved through you as he slipped another finger in, stretching you out. His fingers leaving you and replacing themselves with his cock, he teased you slightly, lingering around you entrance, pressing against your lips until he slipped inside of you.
The feeling was unimaginable, Yoongi didn’t know it was going to be like this. Warm and wet. And good. So good, to be surrounded by slick and heat, the tightness of you putting the right amount of pressure on his dick to make him thrust into you like there was no tomorrow. You groaned and moaned, your fingers digging into the carpet as he quickened his pace, slapping your backside after every few thrusts.
He grunted, low growls releasing from the back of his throat as the sound of your body viciously smacking against his rang in his ears. Your vision darkened as you reached your peak, ripples of pleasure wavering through you effortlessly. Your juices dripped down your thighs.
Yoongi was nearing to his high, one final thrust and he started to feel dazed, his breaths getting heavier as he came, the hot white seed shooting out of him, and into you, he pulled out a white string of his cum was the only thing attaching you two.
The white liquid trickled down your thighs, mixing with your juices. He stood up straight, rushing to the bathroom. You stays there on all fours, unsure on what to do.
He came rushing back a towel in his hand, cleaning you up he tusked at the red marks he had made on your ass cheeks, he smoothed them out, cooling the stinging marks. “oh shit’.” he mumbled about the imprint he had left, you laughed shaking it off.
“Its fine, I enjoyed it.”
“Did you?” he raised an eyebrow, throwing the towel behind him, you turned over, laying down on the carpet, exhausted.
Running. It was all you knew these days.
After your father had passed, killed by the very man that wanted your book, you
had been forced to run to escape the fate that followed. Something was after
you. Something dark. And if you stopped running, if you let your guard down
even once, lowered your hood too far and revealed your true identity as a
daughter of the sky, you would be killed. Inside you, there was great power.
And with great power came many enemies.
You were scared. But you couldn’t afford to
waste time on fear.
The worn old map you carried with you
showed a village nearby. It was small. In your case, small meant safe. If you
kept heading inland, you would hit it in a few hours, just before dark.
You rolled the map and tied it with ribbon
before making your way through the trees. You couldn’t describe why or what
went through your mind, but something felt different this leg of the journey.
It was as though something inside you was longing, reaching out for something
ahead of you.
After a few hours’ time, the village was
finally in sight. You wiped the sweat off of your brow. Although the hood
hanging around your shoulders provided cover from those who were trying to find
you, in the summer heat, it was nearly unbearable. You could practically taste
the cold drink awaiting you at the nearest tavern. It put a little life in your
steps as you trudged the remaining distance into town.
The stone and dirt paths were a welcoming
sight. It had been almost a week since you had been in civilization. Your days
in loneliness were starting to isolate you from the people altogether. You
hoped that maybe the market would be open in the morning and you would be able
to buy some bread and jam or some things to pass the time. Really anything
would be helpful.
You walked through the doorway of the
tavern. You had the feeling whoever owned the place was quite the hunter, given
the abundance of antlers and the large mural of an arrogant man with his rifle.
Gaston was his name, according to a sign. He seemed like a pompous braggart to
you, a war hero with an ego the size of Paris. But perhaps that was just
You ordered a drink and took a spot at the table
in the corner. It was cozy, you decided. Certainly not a place you could call home, but
it could be. God, you longed for a home. Some place you could call your own
without having to run away to protect yourself. It was exhausting. You never
got a break. It was unending. Run, stop for supplies, sleep, run again. So much
running and no place to go. It was beginning to feel pointless. But you knew if
your enemies got their hands on your book, your kingdom would surely be dead.
Your father had given his life to protect those secrets, and you were beginning
to fear you would suffer a similar fate.
You exhaled a heavy sigh and took a long sip
of the cold drink. It was refreshing after a long day. You were so caught up in
bliss that you almost didn’t notice the large man as he took a seat in front of
you. You bolted upright as soon as you noticed his presence.
“You must be new to town.” He stated,
crossing his legs and flexing as he reached out for your hand. “I’m Gaston.”
“I know.” Your voice was quiet, but you
didn’t reach out to take his hand. You only prayed your cloak would be enough
to conceal your identity. It wasn’t likely that this lunkhead had any clue that
you were a child of the stars, an heir to the throne of the sky, but you couldn’t
take the chance that he was in league with Prince Ferdinand. So instead, you
sat there, waiting for him to make a move, to say something.
“Are you in need of a place to stay?”
“Actually, yes.” You nodded. “I am.”
“Might I see your face, then?” he asked,
pressing slightly. You recoiled slightly, withdrawing your hands further. Surely
it would be stupid of him to let a stranger stay in his inn. You knew he only
had his safety in mind.
“N-no, that’s all right.” You shook your
head. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a beauty to behold.”
“Nonsense! I’m sure if you lowered your
hood, it might put me at ease.” He grinned earnestly. You exhaled a slow sigh
and reached up, gently pulling down the cloak around your head. “And what a
beauty you are,” he marveled. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I
could show you around the village tomorrow morning.”
“No, that’s quite alright. I’m headed out
early tomorrow. I need to buy some goods at the market and then I’m out of
“Are you headed somewhere particular or-”
“Yes. I’m on a journey to meet an old
“I could accompany you if you-”
“That won’t be necessary.” You cut him off
calmly, but firmly, standing your ground. For you, there was no safety in
numbers. He very obviously didn’t know what or who you were, but that didn’t
mean other people in the village wouldn’t. When his face fell, you quickly
added: “But thank you very much. It’s kind of you to offer.”
“Anything for a beautiful woman like
yourself.” He nodded simply as another man, a friend of his, came to stand
“Gaston, who is this?”
“A visitor to our fair village.” He crinkled
his eyebrows as he realized he had never asked for your name. “What did you say
your name was, again?”
“(Y/N).” You replied. Your silver eyes
searched over the new man. His lingering gaze told you he had heard of those
like you. He wasn’t as vicious as the people pursuing you. Instead, he was
merely curious, in awe of the being sitting before him. You were a thing of
fairytales, and yet here you were, as real as day. “Well, Gaston, I’m afraid I’m
very tired from my journey.”
“I’ll show her to the spare room.” LeFou
offered before Gaston so much as moved. He nodded hesitantly.
“Of course.” LeFou led you up the stairs
behind him. You smirked, awaiting his question. As soon as you were standing on
the landing outside the room, he turned to you, unable to hold it in any
“Are you really one of them?”
“One of what?” you voice was soft, knowing.
“A…” he looked around and lowered his
voice. “…child of the stars.”
“Yes.” You nodded.
“Why are you here?” he shook his head. “Of
all places…Villeneuve. Why?”
“It was the nearest place to stop.” You admitted.
“I’m not staying for long. I’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
“Before you go, I need to know one thing-”
“You will find happiness, LeFou.” You
stated. Kindness waited behind your enchanting silver eyes. His heart raced. He
felt as though you were looking into his soul. The glow in your irises held what
seemed to be knowledge of everything that had ever or would ever be. “But it is
not with that man.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He
“It’s closer than you know.” You put a hand
on his shoulder. “I promise.”
“So do you know…everything?”
“No. I just know some
things. Important things.” You winked and gave a well-meaning smirk. “Good
night. I hope to see you in the future.”
“Good night.” He replied, nodding. As LeFou
made his way down the stairs, you walked into the small bedroom, locking the
door behind you. You hung your cloak on a peg on the wall and untied your
boots, tucking them under the bed. Once you had crawled beneath the fur blanket,
you stared at the ceiling.
Your heart was pounding like a drum. There
was always fear in these late hours that something would come after you. Or
someone would find you and use you. Luckily, LeFou seemed more curious than he
did malevolent. You decided you were safe for now. But tomorrow might bring
something else entirely. You didn’t know why, but somehow you knew in your
heart, as you sometimes knew impossible things…
Notes: Thank you to Liz ( @caprelloidea ) for the amazing beta, you keep me right. I’m very excited about this little story. A gift I started a long time ago for a lovely lady @acrobat-elle whom I adore. I’m happy I’m actually able to finally give it to you.
Summary: After Killian sacrifices himself to obtain the Black Fairy’s wand and stop Pan’s oncoming curse it is up to Emma to reunite the pirate with his shadow. A Shadow!Killian fic.
The words had left his mouth without a thought, and he ignored the looks of surprise all around, focused instead on the specter above. Hook hoped they wouldn’t argue the point. Though, he didn’t harbor any delusions the gathered group cared enough about his well being to even attempt such a thing. They knew they needed that blasted wand, and fast. They also knew they were running out of time.
The demon shadow gave a shriek, a threat, a promise, a laughing challenge all rolled up into a terrible cry that skittered down his spine. There was a curse hanging over their heads and only one weapon that could stop it and it was that thought that emboldened him. It wasn’t even a choice really, there was no one else. The Prince had his family, Bae was reconnecting with his boy, perhaps more if Emma wished it, and Tink the promise of regaining her wings, of finally making a life for herself. What did he have, really? A pirate ship in a small town of a realm he didn’t know, and several barrels of rum. No purpose, no course set. He had always been quite adept at diversions at least.
Hook sucked in a fortifying breath, and stepped forward.
Jeffrey Dahmer narrowly missed capture 48 hours before his actual arrest. Dahmer was at his usual haunt Club 219, drinking away his dejection over his unraveling personal life; he had just lost his job and would be evicted from his apartment on August 1st. Twenty minutes before closing, he approached an African-American man, presenting himself as a lonely electrician from Chicago. The man brushed off two advances. Persistent, Dahmer finally offered him $100 for conversation, no sex, coaxing him, “You’re the nicest guy I’ve met in Milwaukee.” The man agreed to meet him in the parking lot outside Oxford Apartments. At 3am, the man arrived to find Dahmer smoking pensively and drinking a beer. Upon seeing him, Dahmer reacted with pleased surprise. “I’m so glad you came!” he said. “Most people never come.”
The two men went up the back stairs to Dahmer’s apartment. Since the man had a mustache, Dahmer mistook him for a Latino and told him that he had a photograph of a nude Puerto-Rican man in his bedroom. However, he said that he wasn’t ready to show him the photograph just yet. The two talked for an hour about depressing topics such as the man’s recent loss of his mother and Dahmer’s sick grandmother. When the man showed signs of wanting to leave, Dahmer immediately stiffened, and his voice grew anxious. He headed towards the bedroom, muttering something about getting money. Suspicious about his change in demeanor, the man looked over Dahmer’s shoulder, flipped on a light switch, and saw a blood-stained bed and knife. Despite his heart pounding in his chest, the man tried to remain outwardly calm and play along with Dahmer, “I put my arm around him and said, ‘Now show me that Puerto Rican man.’ It was a do anything-to-keep-your-life situation.”
Dahmer relaxed and the two went into the bedroom, where he instructed the man to take off his clothes and lie down on the floor. The man obeyed and Dahmer began rubbing his back, murmuring that his skin was “like butter.” When the man tried to get up, Dahmer tightened his hold. “He was no longer the polite person I’d met,” the man recalled. Fighting for his life, Dahmer’s would-be victim screamed, pounded on the door, and then stamped on his captor’s foot, freeing him. As he ran through the front door, the man cast a look behind him and saw Dahmer standing in his apartment watching him leave with no obvious intention of chasing him, his face clouded in a mixture of defeat and sadness. Of his brush with death, the man reflected, “He was coming on as a friend and a nice guy. You could hear this man crying for help—that was my weakness.”
“Secrets of a Serial Killer.“ Newsweek, 3 Feb. 1992.)
Sidney Wagner is dead. And Jonas Wagner’s spirit died with her.
There is nothing left but the shell of the man he used to be. An ache resides within him, undying and relentless, hungry to take down the man who had murdered his twin sister.
All signs point directly to Narcotics, a group of loud mouthed delinquents with a twisted sense of humor. All he has to do is make them trust him. Although, this would be a lot easier if their gang leader would stop looking at him as if he were someone precious. It’s making him feel things he really shouldn’t be feeling.
*Princess Augusta, King George III’s mother, died three years before the start of the American Revolution, but events have been changed to match the oneshot.
*Also, this is the first time I realized King George and Washingdad have the same name as I was writing. I’m an idiot.
“You have a letter Mr. President.”
“What?” George’s tone was harsh, unforgiving. The man delivering said letter jumped in alarm and George sighed, calming himself down.
“I’m sorry,” His voice was tired, dark purple bags lining themselves underneath his eyelids. He brushed a hand up his face, sighing deeply. The man had been having the worst few months in his existence. His daughter, his precious girl, had disappeared right under his nose. There was a full watch sent out, a large sum of money being given to anyone who could bring you home.
Of course many people had tried to bring forth people who looked similar to you and get the reward, but George wasn’t an idiot. He knew his daughter down to the very quirk of your lips.
But it had just passed the benchmark of three months. Rumors had started to brew in the streets. What if you had simply run away? George had dismissed such claims at the beginning but now he began to worry. Had he been hard on you? Was it the revolution? Did you truly feel suppressed enough to run away from him?
“Well?” He asked, becoming irritated again at the man who had hesitated to step forward.
“Ah…we haven’t opened it out of respect for your privacy but…” He bit his lip.
“Be curt young man!” George pursed his lips. The man winced.
“It is signed from King George III,” The man swallowed.
George felt his world stop.
“And? Bring it forward,” He reigned in his absolute shock in mind of his company. The man placed the letter on his desk before saluting and exiting the room on rushed legs.
“Poor lad,” George muttered, trailing the edges of the letter with his fingers. Such an innocent envelope, yet looking to hold the weight of the world.
He took in a deep breath to steel himself and opened it slowly, unfolding the paper.
Hello old pal! It has come to my knowledge that you are growing funnier than ever, rounding up that little army of yours. I have no doubts in who will win this petty little war you’ve started, but I suppose it would be good to have a few cards to deal with on my side in case of any surprising and impossible forth-comings.
I looked into every corner of your life, and I came to find something I never noticed before. It was too interesting for me to simply put aside, and so I’m afraid I had to take it. What was the little thing’s name? Ah yes! Y/N was it?
Don’t worry about her. I delayed this letter to give you ample time to lose your wits in search for her in a land where she no longer stands, and so by the time this arrives I am confident you would be quite hysterical. Delightful isn’t it?
So yes, I have her, she’s my hostage, blah blah blah. I’ll be keeping her I’m afraid until I have you successfully back under my colonial rule. She misses you terribly I think, won’t stop blabbing. Although she did become rather quiet of late….do you suppose I’ve broken her?
Anywho, I give my utmost preeminent regards!
Your loving ruler,
King George III
George stared. He let his eyes roam over the ink twice, five times, ten, till every word had been memorized, till he was sure he hadn’t let anything go by.
His hand holding the parchment shook, something burning in his nose and wetly behind his eyes. Intense worry and despair flooded his senses before it was replaced by a burning anger that made his vision go red.
His fingers tightened into a fist, crushing the letter with one action, now shaking for another reason entirely.
“General?” A commander knocked briefly before entering. “The ranks would like to know if- General?”
George’s eyes were covered by the shadow of his own face before he looked up, and the commander stiffened, feeling ice cold fear run through him at the bloodthirsty fire encompassing those usual warm brown orbs.
George smiled, and it was feral. “Gather the men.”
Your nail scratched down the wall.
The coarse, uncomfortable feeling no longer bothered you as it had the first time, and you gazed blankly at the tally mark finishing the five. The entire east corner of the room’s wall had been covered in similar tallies, one each day, leading up to where you now stood.
“Day 120,” You murmured, not bothering to push back a lock of hair than invaded your line of sight. One more day, and you would have been here four months.
Four months without the American soil beneath your feet. Four months without so much as a glimpse at the blue sky. Four months without your father’s gummy smile.
At first you’d been thrown into a cell. After being drugged and carted over the sea for days, you awoke to captivity. You had been provided little food, no warmth, staying in the same dirty clothes for weeks. You had freaked out more or less, keeping yourself sane with delusions that someone would be coming to save you.
But nobody came.
And soon logic overtook your emotions. Why would they? No one knew where you were, so how could they possibly rescue you? And even if King George - you thought the name in disgust - sent word over to the west, it would be at least 4-6 weeks before a letter could even travel that far.
So you stopped your sniveling, put your chin high, and reminded yourself that you were the daughter of the goddamn general of America and you would not break.
The moment you’d stopped being overly sentimental, you were transferred to this room. It was utterly different than the dank, dark tomb of a cell you’d been objected to for weeks. It was prim, proper, had a king sized bed, fitted with a dresser and mirrors and curtains that looked to be more expensive than your life. Servants came in and dressed you in magnificent gowns, complete with makeup and the standard white wig on top your head. The minute they left you tore it off.
What almost made you shatter was the shower that you’d been able to take. You vowed to not give in to whatever game he was playing, but didn’t object to taking an hour long bath with the lavender soap in the cubicle.
They had hot water. Hot water. Was this a magical kingdom?
Of course you knew what was happening. He must have wanted you to develop some kind on Stockholm Syndrome towards him, where you’d be lathered in positive attention after dark treatment and grow an attachment to him.
You might be a woman, but you weren’t an idiot, no matter what majority of men may believe about your gender.
There he was.
You had heard the calling so many times now that you could distinguish it from five miles away. The amount of loathing that came over you was enough for you to want to change your name just so that you wouldn’t have to hear it ever again in that doting tone.
The door creaked open, but you didn’t turn around.
“Y/N~!” The voice was more crisp, clear, endeared with a British accent you had been taught to despise. “I see you’re still marking the walls!”
You didn’t open your mouth.
“The silent treatment again?” You could practically hear the pout in his voice. “It’s gotten old now, dear. What must I do to get you to talk?”
The bed creaked and you knew he had fallen down languidly on the mattress, but you kept your vision aligned with the wall.
“Should I pry that pretty little mouth open?” He mused. You shivered at his words. Your father had had you at a young age, barely nineteen. He had described you as a ‘miracle baby’, but all that meant was that he hadn’t expected to have you, and you knew it. You didn’t even know who your real mother was, but you had long since forgiven him for that. He was young and made a mistake. At least he didn’t abandon you.
Added to the fact that King George was almost ten years younger than your father, the king was actually not lengths away from your own age, which disturbed you on too many levels to comprehend.
“Or maybe cut those fingers off till you scream?” He continued, now talking to himself, unaware of the effect it had on you. Or was he? “Anything would be better than this annoying childish behaviour.”
You had to restrain yourself to not pounce on him the instant.
“Though I guess I could just send word to old Washy that I killed you. That would surely send him to his grave with worry.”
“Don’t you dare,” Your voice was heavy with anger as you whipped around. Widened chocolate eyes regarded you in surprise, a grin stretching across flawless skin.
“Ah so she speaks” He exclaimed giddily. You immediately wanted to calm up again, but it was of no use. You had already given him his victory.
“What are you here for today?” You asked, even though you knew. Its what he came for everyday. As a King you would think he had his schedule full, but he somehow made time every single day to come and pester you for the same thing.
“Oh you already know darling. So why don’t we make this easier on both of us?”
“I’m not becoming a spy for you,” You muttered, voice robotic. You had repeated the words so many times it was second nature. “I will not become a prostitute or anything of the matter. I definitely will not give you any information regarding the plans of my father for the war-”
“-and I will not succumb to any of your wishes,” He finished for you, rolling his eyes, and lolling his head back, shifting into a more comfortable position in which he could still see your face. “I know the drill princess. Then what good are you for?”
Your mouth shut. The playful tone had been sucked out of his atmosphere entirely at the last sentence, his eyes alight with something hypnotic, menacing, intimidation slamming over your head so quickly you froze up entirely. You were sure you were about to be sentenced to death then and there, but then he was back and the monster was gone, a smile lighting up his face, forming tiny dimples along his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes.
“I’m just messing with you!” He said, getting up from the sheets and patting your back roughly. You flinched at the touch, deciding to scrub extra hard in the tub today. “I do hope you change your mind tomorrow! My patience does have a limit.”
You were given a glimpse at the insanity that lay beneath the surface of the cheer and exuberance as his gaze flashed something predatory before he was literally prancing out of the room, humming a catchy tune underneath his breath.
You collapsed onto the wall as soon as he left, your mask gone as you put your face in your hands. A shaking sigh left your mouth as you shuddered, biting your lip to prevent the oncoming onslaught of moisture that flooded your eyes.
Dad, please come quick.
The door opened.
You glared at the recent tally mark of 130. “You’re here early today. What? Got bored with terrorizing innocent subjects?” You could be killed for your talk to such an important figure, but you knew he wouldn’t harm you, and frankly you didn’t care. You knew he needed you as a ransom.
There was no answer, and you turned around in confusion, just in time for him to wrap his arms around you.
Panic flared within you but only skyrocketed as he dragged you down to the mattress. You kicked at him frantically, assuming the worst. No no you weren’t ready, you weren’t for use, he couldn’t take this from you you wouldn’t let him-
Confusion sprouted next as he didn’t lay any perverted touches on you, simply keeping you tight in his hold and burying his head into your hair. The soft but ragged breathing told you he was awake, but you didn’t dare move if he was unstable. You’d witnessed his absolute insanity before, and you didn’t feel like being at the end of it.
But why was he doing this? Was this another tactic?
But then why was he shaking?
So you stayed still, highly attentive, until he relaxed against you and his breaths evened out. Against everything you were, you let him hold you, ignoring the waves of revulsion rolling on your skin. You absentmindedly eyed a pair of scissors on the dressing table. You could easily slip out of his hold and stab him before anyone knew, take the life of the man who had ruined yours.
The thought ran through your mind another time before you disregarded it. Not now. Not only did you think you wouldn’t have the ability to actually bring yourself to commit the act, but killing someone in their sleep was probably the most cowardly of cowardly acts.
Does cowardice really matter when you are a prisoner? A voice whispered temptingly from the dark abyss of your mind. You crushed it.
You were not that type of person.
It was only later when you had been left alone again without a word from the king, that you discovered what had happened. There were hushed talks among the servants, the nobles outside your door.
The king’s sick and weak mother had finally died of laryngeal cancer in her sleep.
You were unsure how to feel.
At one end you absolutely wanted to have no feelings of remorse or pity towards George. But on the other you were far more concerned of why exactly he had come to you for comfort.
Why you? Were you not a mere captive? A hostage?
Then you looked back. Every day. He had visited you every day. You couldn’t bear to admit it, but even you grew used to his visits, and came to expect them with some anticipation. (If only to imagine ripping those pretty eyes from his skull). He must have grown attached to you at some point as well.
Could he have possibly grown a….liking towards you?
The thought was ridiculous but the evidence proved otherwise. And if so…if so…
You grinned slowly at your reflection in the mirror.
Maybe you weren’t the hostage anymore.
He continued to come. Earlier and earlier every day. You didn’t change your attitude towards him too quickly, knowing that you had to concoct your plan slowly in order for there to be no suspicion whatsoever.
But you ever so slowly changed the game. You began to face him when he came in instead of away. You let your hand ‘accidentally’ brush against his side. You made an effort to look presentable when he came in.
You even ripped a small piece of your mask away to allow yourself to give him a real smile once.
And you could feel him beginning to turn into putty in your hand. Your father would be proud of you, you thought. For tricking the enemy so well.
(Or would he? Allowing yourself to manipulate another so easily?)
And one fateful night, when George was tired, and it had been a hard day on him, and your eyes had been shining so brilliantly in the light of the candle-
You did nothing when his lips came down on yours, merely tightened a fist behind your back and brought the other to gently touch his cheek.
Hook, line, and sinker.
You had turned the tables successfully. You had him under just as much control as he thought he still had you under.
It was funny really.
You began to think of ways to escape. It had taken you so long to get him to trust you, but maybe a few more months and he would let you go outside, and then from there you could begin putting out plans to get back home.
The word seemed so far away, and yet so close.
America, wait for me.
One evening you were sitting upright the headrest on the bed, George’s head on your shoulder, the room silent. It was the rare occasion his customary royalty wig wasn’t on, and his soft brown curls brushed against your cheek.
He looked much better in your opinion. Not that you cared.
His eyes stared into space, as if he was seeing something you weren’t.
“Why are you doing this?”
For a minute you felt dread tinge your tongue. He hadn’t figured you out had he? You forced yourself to calm down. “Doing what?”
“This,” He shifted his eyes so that they were boring into yours, and it was as if he was unraveling your very soul. “I thought you had accepted this to ask of something of me, or try and grasp your freedom, but you’ve done nothing of the sort. What do you hope to accomplish?”
He must have been really tired if he was spilling his guts to you. Hopefully he wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning.
“Do I need to accomplish something?” Answer another question with a question, your dad’s voice lectured in your mind. Don’t ever let them see weakness.
“I would think so,” His voice was silk, rushing over your ears, causing you to relax your own guard much more than you wanted. “Unless you are idiotic enough to gain romantic inhibitions to your captor.”
“Well then I shall say the same to you,” You countered. “How does one gain such feelings toward their captive?”
“Touche,” He laughed before regaining his quiet. You grew worried. He had never been this sober before. Was there something seriously wrong?
“I am never letting you go,” He said suddenly. You blinked, but didn’t reply. His grip on your hand grew slightly tighter. “My sweet, submissive subject.”
You couldn’t help the adamant scowl that pulled your lips. Submissive??
“But you’re not,” He amended, watching the change in your face, eyebrows furrowing in uncertainty. “You have fire. And intelligence, almost. You are the strangest woman I have ever met.”
You stared back, struck speechless by his gaze. And for the first time, you found yourself leaning forward as well when he captured your lips with his, deepening the embrace till you grew hot with passion and thoughtless as you were pressed down into the mattress.
A knock on the door.
“George,” you said immediately. “Yo-”
An unfamiliar man stood there instead, a complacent smile on his face. You cleared your throat after staring in surprise.
“Ah, hello,” The man said, voice a deep richness, lines between his eyes that betrayed the amount of times he smiled.
There was a certain twinkle in those eyes as he walked towards you, his steps kept together and his back straight. He lifted a tape measure. “I am merely your new tailor, madame. Please let down your guard.”
You vaguely wondered what had happened to the other woman but nodded, loosening the tightness in your shoulders.
He was gentle as he lifted your arms and zipped around you, wrapping the measure around your waist and up your side. As he lifted your hair to stretch the surface of the material against you neck, he began to speak again.
“May I ask you your name, miss?”
“Y/N,” You said quietly.
“Lovely,” he complimented, and it wasn’t sleazy in any way, but completely genuine.
“Thank you,” A heat flushed up your neck and pooled in your cheeks at the gesture.
“Where did you get it?”
“My…father said it was the first thing he thought of when he gazed at my eyes,” You murmured, mood dampened extremely.
He hummed. “Interesting. I’m sure Washington wouldn’t like to hear you sound so downcast speaking of it though.”
You tensed. “What?” You tried to get away from the man but his hold on your shoulder increased so that you couldn’t - yet it was still somehow gentle.
“I mean what I said.” Then his voice dropped even lower, and he was whispering in your ear, even as he continued to look to an outsider as if he were taking your measurements. “Your father has sent for you. I will leave the door open when I leave, and you must follow my instructions.”
You nodded, befuddled, but feeling hope bubble up in your chest.
“Good. Now go left, and continue for about fifty feet before making a right then immediate right again. You will run into a baker, who is not one at all, and he will lead you out of the castle and to the harbour where a ship awaits to take you back to the mainland. Keep your head down, and your face hidden. Walk as if you have a destination, but do not stand out.”
You could only nod again, overwhelmed but committing every word to your memory.
“Oh and,” He straightened, hanging the measure around his neck once more. A wink was sent your way, a cheeky grin making it onto his handsome face. “Good luck.”
He went to walk out the door but you stopped him.
“W-Wait!” You said. He stopped and you stammered. “May I have your name?”
He contemplated for a second before smirking. “Mulligan. Hercules Mulligan. Now make haste Y/N Washington.”
With that he had swept out like he was never there, footsteps light and making no sound.
You stood there, watching the indeed open door, mind racing a mile a minute.
A tailor spying on the British government? Was this a trick? Was George seeing if you would run away given the chance? Or was this real? Were you really being rescued?
You turmoil-ed over the notion for several more seconds but every moment that grew on had you looking at the sliver of light shining in from the open door..
You made your choice.
And with that you slipped out the door.
You jumped. “Huh? Ah yes…”
The baker-but-not-really, held out a hand, the sea-spray of the harbour assaulting your nose, and the wind whipping your hair. He had a foot aboard the plank of the ship, but you were still on the ground. You rose one foot but were confused when you paused. What were you waiting for? Wasn’t this freedom?
Brown eyes, and a childish grin, feet skipping out of the room.
You didn’t - you couldn’t -
Please no, you thought. I couldn’t possibly be…
The smell of his skin, incense and mint, the sensation of his mouth on yours.
You wanted to rip your hair out. NO. This wasn’t happening.
You blamed the salty air for your eyes tearing up as you accepted your helper’s hand and stepped up onto the ship.
You blamed the rocking of the boat and sea sickness for the lurching of your heart as England’s harbour grew further away.
You closed your eyes and thought of your father’s smile, drowning out everything else.
You were going home.
“Where is she?!”
The adviser grimaced as another vase crashed to the floor.
“Sir-” Another crash, this time the desk against the wall, broken and tumbling to the ground. The sheets were torn, curtains ripped apart. “We can only assume she is back in the west. She was seen by a witness with a man in a baker’s attire, heading towards the harbour.”
King George grew unnaturally calm. “The harbour? Was she struggling? Putting up a fight?”
The adviser stepped back, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. “N-No sir. It is most probable she simply fled. She was a prisoner after all.”
“Fled…She fled…” King George mumbled, chuckling. The adviser swallowed, bowing slightly and excusing himself from the room in rightful fear of his life for delivering the news.
King George was a mess, hair in chaos, his crown on the floor, his whole body quivering in mad laughter.
An image of you smiling back home and expressing your freedom, taunted him. Betrayal and anger stirred deep in his chest but all he did was laugh.
His palm covered his face as he trembled, now bellowing full rolls of hysterics. “She fled!”
The laughs simmered down to giggles as he braced himself against a wall, smiling through the spaces of his fingers.
“Y/N…oh Y/N…” A psychotic glint passed his eyes, white teeth splitting his lips in a grin. “You think you’ve escaped…”
You jumped into your father’s arms, feeling yourself encased in his strong hold as he kissed you all over, warm in his embrace. Yet you felt as if something was incomplete, apprehension still hanging over you as a tension you couldn’t shake.