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for7 · 3 years

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the christmas spirit | jimin

synopsis. christmas... did you ever wonder where it came from?

☁︎ imagine park jimin having an uncanny experience on christmas years ago, with a little girl that looks just like his girlfriend...

pairing. jimin x reader genre. fantasy au + fluff word count. 3,5k

ah, christmas.

a celebration for millions of families from all over the world, during a particular day. a celebration filled with laughter, presents, love. who in this world didn’t know about christmas, its customs and magic? the answer was not astounding: no one. everyone knew christmas and knew what it represented, both religiously and culturally.

christmas was, for many, an important event. this simple date on the calendar triggered a frenzy in everyone, a frenzy that would always start months before the date. whether it was the decoration shops, the chocolatiers, the gardeners, they were all too busy to enjoy this period. a period that rhymed with joy but, above all, with benefit.

sell. sell. sell. christmas was all about it. the shopkeepers had only this word rolling from their tongues, they, who painted their shop fronts red and green, decorating them with poorly drawn snowflakes and glittering garlands that made the most innocent eyes dream.

all citizens throughout the world were overwhelmed, but no one was as occupied as a certain city.

christunix was a city so small and remote from all that it was not on any atlas, planisphere, nor globe. few really knew where it was and what it contained. the wanderers, black-hearted, could only see from the town the multicoloured lights filtered through a thick fog that seemed to come to life if you tried to cross it.

although almost unknown to all, kept intact by this magical gate, those lucky enough to know about it were very real. they were rare and were the men and women who had kept their child’s eyes despite their passage into the adult world. they were the ones who still managed to marvel at the little things that illuminated everyday life, in their routine coloured with a monotonous grey. they were the ones who had once stumbled upon an old grimoire called “the christmas story”.

if one day you ever had this work of inestimable value in your hands, through these yellowed and worn out pages, you would discover in golden inked words that the christmas tradition was born at the heart of this mysterious village as well as the white-bearded man that would become its allegory.

the first man, who would be called differently by children all over the world, had initially only been a toy manufacturer called klaus. of this man, the inhabitants of christunix did not know many things, all too young to have known him. only his faithful companion, an immortal but old elf — with a name far too long — could boast of having rubbed shoulders with him.

every sunday, he would gather the village’s children in his cottage and tell them stories of yesteryear about his companion. the first distribution of gifts, described as catastrophic, was one of the best known and adored tales for the children. this had happened several centuries before but, for the elf, it had happened a day before. just yesterday, he was helping his friend make toys, just yesterday he was riding in a flying sled to distribute billions of gifts to kind children from around the world.

ah… those days were as close as they were far away.

no one, not even the grimoire, knew how klaus had died. all the rumours, each crazier than the other, circulated in the village. some spoke of a sled accident, others of natural death. however, many thought it was the winter spirit that had enveloped him when his time had come, making him disappear from the face of the earth in a cloud of snow, leaving behind his workshop, his elves, and his knowledge.

a natural knowledge which mother nature had blessed him with, and the descendants of his lineage. an innate talent, the capacity to make from a simple piece of wood a functional toy able to let children’s eyes shine. scientists would talk about a hereditary gene; the inhabitants of the village would talk about a gift.

only the sons of the klaus clan could bear this blessing. for centuries, this was how the family worked. the siblings’ first son, the presumed heir, was to take part in a ceremony on the winter solstice day of his first year on earth. when the moon was at its highest point in the starry sky, empty of all visual pollution, and the snow fell in hundreds of flakes, the one charged with reigning over the world of christmas would place the heir on a sliced tree trunk. it was said that klaus himself had used the wood of this tree to make his first toy.

if the heir were to be a bearer of the gift, then, according to tradition, a white and red aurora borealis would appear in the sky, white dust would surround the newborn’s body as a sign of eternal protection from the winter spirit.

this rare event had only happened five times, and it was long hoped that the new heir would be the sixth. snomi was not the eldest of his family but he was the only boy, making him the worthy heir of the gift. all the inhabitants of the village had hoped for his birth, a blessing. without a boy, what would become of christmas?

when it was finally announced throughout the village that a boy had been born, the inhabitants had celebrated this news for a whole week.

you see, klaus’ fifth descendant had been unlucky about his offspring, some even spoke of a curse. five children, four daughters. the last one, the boy, was thus perceived as a miracle.

for the next three hundred and sixty-five days, all covered him with presents, endowed him as if he was their own child. the inhabitants of christunix were traditional people, attached to legends and customs. knowing that this child would one day be the one who would manage christmas triggered in them a sense of pride and need to protect him.

when the winter solstice finally arrived, the entire village climbed the blue mountain to reach the highest point of their land. all piled up around the sawn tree trunk. in the centre of this elated crowd, the child’s parents, both dressed in their traditional white and red coats, stood proudly. next to them, the old elf was alternating his gaze between the position of the moon and his gold-bed watch, old of a few centuries.

“one more minute.”

the mother transferred the sleeping baby into the arms of her father, who advanced towards the tree trunk, snow screeching under each of his steps. he laid him on the wood, caressing with his huge thumb the delicate skin of his cheek. a tear of pride slipped down his cheek and landed in his beard, but no one noticed; all had their eyes turned on the sky.

“let the ceremony of the heir begin.”

the moment the old elf’s voice sounded, the moonlight aligned with the tree trunk, thus illuminating the baby’s face with a sky-blue hue. all the inhabitants began singing in an ancient language, a mixture of scandinavian and latin. with their words, they were invoking the winter spirit and the wandering soul of klaus, the only beings capable of awakening the gift sleeping within the heir’s heart.

when the last words of the traditional song rang out, the inhabitants waited for the aurora borealis to appear.

but it never came.

whispers rose in the ranks, cries echoed. what was going on? had the ceremony been performed correctly? was it a calendar error? a lot of questions demanding answers were shouted at the parents who remained frozen, disabused. a strong breeze rose in the air, running through everyone’s shivering bodies, making the baby cried.

the child did not possess the gift.

meanwhile, far away from all the chaos, in the easternmost house of the village, the screams echoed.

“put that down, sunmi! you’re going to f—” a thud, followed by crying. “fall… well… oh my god! y/n, leave that elf alone!” the oldest of the four daughters, iclyn, shouted.

hearing her first name, the youngest of the girls wobbled towards her father’s workshop while giggling. her immaculate white hair, button nose and always pink cheekbones gave her the appearance of a little angel. however, as many have said, appearances can sometimes be misleading. y/n, especially because of her age of no more than five years, was the most agitated of the fifth heir’s daughters. while the twins iclyn and lumi exuded the wisdom that came with being a descendant of klaus, the youngest perfectly symbolised the malice and carelessness of children.

still laughing, her eyes sparkling, the child entered her father’s huge workshop. toys filled gigantic shelves and the noise seemed to be a constant element in this real factory. the elves, though most of the time playful, were busy with their task.

making, painting and packing thousands of gifts was no mean feat.

“miss klaus, what are you doing here? you should be at the ceremony!”

juniper, one of her father’s closest elves, pulled her by the sleeve, wishing to bring her back to her house. this was without considering the stubbornness of the girl who planted her feet on the ground, making it difficult for the elf and his little arms to drag her back.

“don’t want to! it boring! not even cookies… cold…” she murmured, arms folded, a pout on her lips. “i want to see toys!”

“miss klaus, come back here!”

ignoring the elf’s words, the girl began to saunter in the wide aisles of the workshop. it was her favourite place in the village. to know that her father was organising all this was very impressive, especially for a four-year-old. her sparkling gaze observed the actions of the elves. she laughed when she saw one tangled in the gift paper. sometimes tiny ‘wow’ would escape her mouth at the sight of toys, all more beautiful than the other.

however, it was a very special object that caught her attention, awakening her childish curiosity.

a snowball, depicting a fireplace decorated with christmas stockings, was delicately placed on the desk where her father would imagine and design new toys. looking around her once, then twice, to see if no one was watching her, she walked silently towards the workbench too big for her. her wrinkled eyes, a sign of her intense thinking session, opened wide while a blissful smile was painted on her face.

she had an idea.

the child grabbed cardboard boxes, which would later be used to pack bicycles, and stacked them to create an almost-staircase. with difficulty—her little arms did not contain much strength—she hoisted herself to the top, nearly falling several times. when she was finally standing on the workbench, y/n took the snowball in her little pudgy hands.

“wow…”

she hadn’t even shaken it, but snowflakes were already falling on the chimney. on closer inspection, she saw that it was lighted. putting it down at its original location, the child’s curious pupils swept the office with her eyes. she realised that on it was placed a gigantic map of the world. in her head, the names of the cities she already knew jostled.

her father, and her grandfather before him, kept telling exciting stories about all the cities they would visit on december 25th. these tales would change over the years, and the cities were never twice the same.

rubbing her skull with her fist, the little girl tried to remember the name of a city her grandfather would always talk about.

se…

sea…

“seoul!”

the moment the name of the city was pronounced, the snowball began to turn on its own. faster and faster, until the chimney was gone, giving way to a blurry image. the doors of the workshop opened in a big crash, slamming against the walls. a thick cloud of snow dust entered the room, long and lively as a snake, and flew around the workbench as if it was looking for someone. all the elves who had turned to the entrance at the noise tried to close the doors, but nothing helped. many were already starting to agitate, to hide under the tables, terrified. however, the girl kept her gaze fixed on the snowball, which seemed to be illuminated in a red so gleaming that she had to close her eyes, dazzled.

the last thing she felt was something enveloping her, like a huge cold but comforting cloak.

it had now been an hour since the little boy’s parents had come to wish him a good night, but sleep did not seem to want to weigh down the young park jimin’s eyelids. no matter how many times he changed positions, morpheus didn’t want him in his arms.

and for good reason: jimin was excited. christmas was now only a few days away and he had already planned his ploy. you see, it was now two years ago, when he was three years old, that the boy had made his decision.

he would catch santa claus.

boys in his class kept saying that santa claus didn’t exist. he didn’t believe them nor the nonsense they were saying. he knew, santa claus existed. every year, on the night of the 24th to the 25th, he would try to stay awake so he could see santa claus and his hood. and he had seen him! he was sure of it! the boy had even seen the great gentleman eat the cookies and drink the glass of milk he had carefully prepared.

last year, though, he had not been fast enough; while the boy had just come down the last step of the stairs, ready to make his presence known, the bearded man had already disappeared in the chimney.

sighing at this memory, jimin rose from his bed, his brown hair dishevelled. fumbling his way along not to wake his parents and little sister, he went down the stairs to get himself something to drink. maybe it would help him sleep? he’d once seen his mom do that.

as he passed through the living room to reach the desired place, a strange vision made him rub his eyes with his fists to make sure what he saw was real.

a little girl who had just appeared in the hearth of his chimney looked at him with eyes as wide as his own.

“who are you?” he asked.

she was dressed strangely. on her snow-white hair, a red bobble hat had been laid without much attention, causing it to fall before her sparkling eyes. her clothes were similar to those that jimin had seen the elves wear in the christmas movies that were on tv. the only difference was that she was not dressed in green but in red.

the stranger blinked several times before shaking her head from right to left. she didn’t understand him.

great.

as he was about to mime his question again, the little girl’s attention turned away from him and settled on the christmas tree, lit in red and gold. moving gently towards it, she touched with her little fingers the decorations that seemed to sparkle to her touch. a childish laugh, which brought snowflakes to appear in the sky, resounded in the room as she pointed to a little santa claus in felt.

“pappa!”

“no, it’s santa claus!” jimin corrected her, unhappy to know that his hero was not known to the young woman.

“min pappa!”

“hey, no! don’t touch that!” he ran towards her and grabbed her arm to remove her as quickly as possible from a drawing she was about to touch. he had put it at the foot of the tree a few days ago.

on the sheet of paper was clumsily drawn a race car that jimin had forgotten to write on his letter to santa claus. He hoped that the old red man could create him one after seeing it. this race car was the gift that mattered the most to jimin, it was out of the question that he let this weird girl approach it.

“se på!” the girl said, pointing to the windows that had just opened. following her gaze, jimin gasped, his eyes now amazed.

a glittering, almost transparent hand made of snow had just appeared in the parks’ lounge. tt wandered around in the air for a few moments, stopping to tickle the girl’s chin with two fingers. the latter, after laughing, cheeks now red with happiness, showed to this magical apparition the drawing of the car. for a few moments, the girl and the hand had a silent conversation that ended with a bright smile from the child.

jimin, who had remained motionless until then, startled when the hand advanced towards him.

“miss Klaus! you’re in a fix, i can tell you! why did you run away like that?! and in korea into the bargain!”

a small man with sky blue skin and pointed ears appeared in turn in the chimney. jimin had no time to understand what was going on that the newcomer was already grabbing the girl’s arm and pulling her to the chimney where they both disappeared in a cloud of red and white glitter.

the hand, which had hidden as if it did not want to be seen by the elf, flew again towards jimin, who, terrified, began to tremble. they remained silent for a long time, before it magically disappeared, leaving behind snowflakes and a race car.

the little boy fainted.

the peaceful atmosphere in the living room had a soporific effect on the couple lying on the couch. the christmas film—full of clichés—that was displayed on the tv screen had long been forgotten, as were the two cups of hot chocolate that no longer gave off smoke. a few snowflakes fell on seoul but seeing them, all the inhabitants knew they would not be there the next day. they didn’t mind, even just seeing snow made them happy. it would always wrap the city with its delicate white coat no matter for how many hours, painting the landscape with the christmas spirit.

jimin struggled against sleep that seemed to approach him a little more with each caress in his hair. he was slumped against his girlfriend’s chest, enjoying this moment of serenity which was discordant from their exalted daily lives. the words they were saying were whispered so as not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that surrounded them.

“y/n?” a ‘yes, honey?’ was heard in response, urging him to continue while the caresses on his skull became softer. “did i ever tell you that you reminded me of someone i met as a kid?”

“oh, is that right?” the woman asked, her voice muffled by Jimin’s hair in which she had buried her face.

“yes. i think I was five or six at the time… or something like that. i was young enough to believe in santa claus, basically. anyway, one night i went to get a glass of water in the kitchen. i was so tired that i had a hallucination. it was as if i had seen a girl appear in my chimney and she had summoned this weird and magical hand that made me a car. weird, isn’t it? she had white hair just like you, though.”

“hmm…”

“maybe it was a prophetic dream, i knew you were going to be the love of my life.” he laughed at his girlfriend’s cringe expression. “i love you.”

slowly, she gave him a kiss on his cheek, saying these three little words back. her caresses continued until the man’s eyes closed. smiling, she grazed jimin’s cheek with her thumb, translating in this little gesture all the affection she had for him.

her eyes swept away the apartment they shared. on the walls and shelves were scattered memories, photos; all these things traced their history, which had been going on for a year now. in the entrance, on the small table where there was a bowl with keys, behind the pile of mail waiting to be read, was placed a snow globe representing a fireplace decorated with Christmas stockings.

suddenly, the windows of the living room opened, and even though the noise startled her, it did not disrupt jimin’s sleep who was now using her chest as a pillow. a trail of snow dust appeared in the living room, twirling for a few moments around the couple before it put a letter in the woman’s hand. she hurried to open it, reading its content, written in familiar handwriting.

miss y/n klaus,

how are you? personally, i can’t even sleep as your father keeps telling me how much he misses you. everyone here does. seeing each other a month per year is too little according to the villagers.

i know your life in seoul takes up a lot of your free time. however, according to christunix’s council, it was considered judicious for you to return to the village during the week. all you have to do is take your snowball, i won’t be wrong to assume you know how to use it.

without you, it’s a bit of a mess. even if the elves work hard and your drawings are precise, it’s always better when you’re on the field to check in real-time the work that has been done. your father has, as usual, high expectations even if he is no longer in the position. he keeps complaining. you must return as soon as possible or, i assure you, the old elf will get rid of him before you can say ‘christmas’.

after all, what would christunix be without the sixth heir?

p.s. your mother and siblings keep tormenting me for you to introduce them to that boy you talk about in your letters. if you feel like it, bring him back with you. maybe it’s time he finds out what his fiancée’s job is.

kind regards,

juniper.

#jimin fluff #park jimin #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts au #jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #jimin imagine #jimin fanfic #bts fantasy au #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fluff #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #park jimin x y/n #bts #bts christmas #jimin christmas

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multicolour-ink · 1 year

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This isn't movie-specific, but I love how the brothers' mustaches hide their mouths half of the time, I think it leads to some really cute expressions, especially when they're happy

I love it too 😊

It's always great when you have to read the expressions through just the eyes and eyebrows. It reminds me of characters like Gromit or Marvin the Martian.

Have some expressive brothers 🤗

#super mario #mario #luigi #expressions #mario and luigi #the super mario bros movie #super mario movie #mario movie #the super mario bros movie spoilers #super mario movie spoilers #mario movie spoilers #mario movie 2023 #multicolour ink answers

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madokasoratsugu · 4 years

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what is in a name

[Fritz/Lucette ; post moonlight verse but can be read as a standalone]

summary:

"a blessing, i suppose." Fritz answers, after a beat.

Lucette turns the offered name over in her head exactly once. "a blessing." she repeats, softly, and aches gently in the returning way Fritz smiles.

(five times Lucette calls Fritz's name - the one he gifts her as a word, a blessing. and one time he calls hers in return.)

read on ao3

Fritz is counting his heartbeat by the second. it runs an unusual pace. rabbit hearted, Fritz thinks, a mistaken analogy.

the silk is too smooth beneath him, Lucette's palm too warm. his rabbit heart runs faster, and he turns to look at her for the first time that night. she is still staring steadfast at the canopy above them. the curtains are drawn tight enough that no light can come through. but he can still see her outline lying right next to him, soft curves and vanilla scented. it makes still his heart, his mind, his body.

rabbit hearted, Fritz thinks, an accurate analogy.

he offers her the name the very next morning.

Lucette looks at him, eyes wide. but Fritz only smiles, full of gentle acceptance and aching love.

so Lucette had not said a single word more, only combed her fingers through the black that frames one side of his face and smiled, too.

-----

he has not left his study in days.

the door clicks as Lucette closes it behind her, the first to breach the prince consort’s space in days.

Fritz lifts his head from his hand, shoulders drooping and bleary eyed. the book under his grip is worn and ink stained, despite being days old.

she makes her way to him, around the table that is filled with documents and papers he is still getting used to the luxury of using, of even seeing.

gently, she detaches the quill from his other hand, placing it next to the open book. Fritz does not even have the strength to protest. merely watching her, affronted.

smooths her hands over his slept in shirt, down his tense arms. cradling his hands, rubbing thumbs over the new calluses over his fingers. he does not wince, already used to pain from his days as a knight.

“let’s have dinner.” Lucette says.

Fritz frowns, glancing back at his studies. the book on basic syntax mocks him for his little progress.

his hands are pulling back, his mouth a thin line -

“Varg.”

the word is quiet.

but Fritz looks up, meets his love’s eyes and allows her to guide him to stand with no further reluctance.

“i’m sorry.” Fritz says, kissing her temple. “let’s go. but can i change first, at least?”

pushing his hands into hers fully, laughing softly as Lucette deliberates.

-----

“Varg.” Lucette whispers.

Fritz’s eyes snap open, cold sweat soaking into the sheets, hand trembling in Lucette’s grasp.

the moonlight catches in Fritz’s glazed eyes, wide as the moon that accents them.

he pushes a smile to his face, pulls her hand to his lips to give her knuckles a gentle kiss.

“did I wake you?”

Lucette nods, shifts closer to Fritz as he sits up. curls against his form, hand settling over his unsteady heart that still runs miles too fast.

Fritz leans down, pressing shaking lips to her forehead, sighs, “sorry.”

his hand still trembles as he combs his fingers through her hair. she bends towards his touch, eyes flutter closed, and he shakes his head, leaning deeper into her as she presses closer.

“no, I mean - thank you.”

-----

the sun shines brilliantly today.

Lucette strokes the silk sheets covering her betrothed, swathed not in the same gossamer but in rough cotton and gauze. his torso is practically hidden beneath white bandages, his face dabbed with salve. enough that Lucette cannot kiss him anywhere without feeling the chilly tinge of herbs on her lips.

he looks like he could be asleep. she hopes he is, and nothing more.

Lucette cannot ignore the way her hands shake, the way the exhaustion leans into her like it has found a home, the way Fritz’s pale complexion is akin Parfait’s just last year, surrounded by white roses and family before -

Lucette squeezes her eyes shut. gathers Fritz’s hand in both of her own, brushing her lips over it reverently, hauntingly - leans her forehead against the clammy hand of her home, and exhales, too cold.

“Varg.” Lucette mumbles, a wish, a prayer all rolled into one.

the sunlight glints off the windows. the wind brushes past dandelions and daisies of well wishes sitting in a vase.

the breeze sweeps across the room, once.

Fritz’s eyelashes flutter. Lucette does not hold her breath.

then they crack open, her hazy moon hidden behind a veil of cloud-white lashes.

“are you - you hurt?” he asks, cracking and hoarse and so, so loving.

the next thing that touches her lips are his.

-----

Fritz’s teeth are gnashed, gaze wild, and he screams .

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY MY MOTHER’S NAME - HOW DARE YOU WHEN YOU TORE ME IN TWO AND MADE ME KILL ‘ME’ THAT MY MOTHER LOVED, I WISH I’D -’

and Lucette has her arms in a vice grip around his waist, yells over his anguished cries “Varg!” and Fritz’s jaw snaps shut.

the moment freezes solid, silent save for Fritz’s haggard breaths.

until Fritz’s frame shudders with a sudden inhale.

lets the anger go, just enough to speak civil towards the witch who cursed him, who killed him, twice over now -

first as a wolf, second as a knight.

“do whatever you want with him.” Fritz says, cold, uncaring. eyes boring holes into the witch before him. “just get him out of my fucking sight.”

Waltz claps a hand on his shoulder as Fritz turns away and stalks out the dungeons, Lucette’s hand held firmly in his.

“Fritz, stop.” Lucette murmurs, eventually, when it’s clear Fritz is walking deeper into the tunnels.

he does, but it is loud and crashing and too brash a clatter thud of feet to be knightly.

“I killed him.” Fritz exhales, in a rush, the tears never having stopped streaming down his face from before. “I killed him because I was scared and I killed him again when I wasn’t.”

the words bounce off the walls like light off mirrors Fritz still cannot bring himself to look at.

“because I was a coward, I had to kill him.” Fritz wails, his cries reverberating on the stone walls, echoing like the chambers of a heart.

and Lucette bites her lip only to find it salty, only to find herself crying, too.

-----

layers of dust sit undisturbed upon the rows of books, the picture frames and boxes of toys, of clothes and belongings of a household no longer existing.

painfully out of place in the plain living room, Fritz draws the curtains, leaves a hand loosely curled in the patched fabric of old blankets.

Lucette curls her hand in his other. he does not react, eyes fixed on a point in the distance out the window that leads nowhere.

“Varg?”

Fritz’s fingers twitch, before they are tightening around hers.

he lets go of the patchwork curtain.

blinks, and the beautiful grids of patterns are now a myriad of swirling colours, tasting like salt and iron.

-----

(“no. that’s archaic. and it could be construed as a bad omen.”

“oh, boo. it’s meant to protect him.”

“then, fritzgerald.”

“the name of the mythological hero?”

“for protection. that’s what you want, isn’t it? ...why are you smiling like that?”

“it’s nothing.”

“....”

“‘one who never loses his way’ - it’s a good name.”

“hmgh. it’s the only one fitting for a leverton.”

“yes. which is why you spent nights thinking of names.”

“..!!”

“ahaha! you’re blushing!”

“....”

“still, is mine really no good?”

“...i do not want tongues to wag.”

“....”

“...however, if the opportunity presents, i will gift it to him.”

“..!! cross your heart?”

“cross my heart.”)

-----

a gift, once given, does not just exist the option to be received.

it can be rejected, appreciated from afar, or taken in and given away again.

-----

fear curdles in Lucette, crawls up her throat and threatens to cut her voice, her breath short.

another person bumps into her, and she stumbles forward, jostled by her pre-coronation parade’s cheer and ruckus that she cannot keep up with.

grips her hood, tugging it forward. keeping her eyes on the ground, claustrophobia pressing in on her with human bodies and their too joyful laughter, wishing she had never come up with this idea, never left the palace at all, never tried something as stupid and ambitious as this -

her voice is barely a whisper when it leaks.

a firework whistles through the air.

another’s hand finds hers as it explodes in a multicoloured burst, drowning out the name that catches in her throat.

breaking through the crowd, Fritz stumbles into the little space she has carved out around herself, tugging her close to him. chest heaving with relief and effort, bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead, his brilliant eyes softening when they land on her.

another cutting whistle, yet unable to undercut his relieved laughter.

his other hand finds hers, and backlit by the fizzling wheels of colour that light up the night sky, he smiles bright enough to light up her world again.

“found you, Lucette!”

-----

the old promise word is replaced by a new promise name.

-----

he comes to her, as long as she needs him.

#cinderella phenomenon #cinderella phenomenon spoilers #cinderella phenomenon visual novel #lucette riella britton #fritzgerald aiden leverton #varg (cinderella phenomenon)#melon writes

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silenzahra · 5 months

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6 and 20?

6. Favorite title you used

I'm really sorry, but I'm afraid I can't answer this one yet 😅 Out of everything I've written this year, only one fanfic has a title, and I'm waiting to start posting it to reveal it. As for the other fanfics I wanna post, I'm still looking for titles, since I'm just so BAD at picking them 🥲

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

Definitely my Mario movie fanfic! It's soooo long, and making sure it all fits together and makes sense and expresses what I want it to express has made me have to reread it a million times since I started writing it in April 😅

This is actually me writing, rereading and editing this fanfic 👆👆👆

Thank you so much for asking these questions, anon! 💖💖

Of course, feel free to ask me more questions regarding this post by @multicolour-ink! 🥰✨

#mario fanfic #super mario fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writer #luigi nintendo #charlie day #its always sunny #always sunny #charlie day meme #super mario bros #mario nintendo #mario bros #my fics #my fanfics #silenzahra

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paper-whales-writes · 5 years

Text

If the Apple Fits

Pairing: Evie x Reader

Word Count: 1,755

Requested By: Anonymous

Summary: Love at first sight with Evie Grimhilde

Glass blowing is a strange talent - but it's yours. What you had first taken as a strange class to fill in the space in your time table has become your pride and joy. Many of your fellows find it highly ironic that the daughter of Cinderella has a talent for working with glass and creating the most beautiful creations with it. Even your mother found it funny. Replying to amused comments with her own rueful smile. Yet, there was a time she had cried about your talent: when you created her a new slipper or multicoloured shards of glass. It had been a birthday present that had taken you all too long and for that you are proud. Alongside the stained-glass window of a sunset adorning Auradon Prep's main hall, your mother's gift is one of your proudest creations. But the crowning glory of all your hard work? The stained-glass portrait of Mal and Ben, unveiled to the hungry eyes of Auradon at the Royal Cotillion. Now that really was a masterpiece. Between yourself Jane and Evie, that important event was gleaming in it's own opulence; heralding a new age of Auradon. While you have met the former girl, you have yet to meet the famed designer from the Isle. But from what you have heard, she sounds perfect in every sense of the word. In truth, you had first honed your talent for glass work in an effort to escape the presumptions people inevitably put upon you because of your older brother: Chad. Unlike him, you were quiet and unassuming. Some people even find it difficult to believe you are even a royal. But you've never chased fame or popularity and it certainly made you your mother's favourite child. Your new project, assigned once more from the King, was almost complete and it has kept you in your work-room for almost the whole weekend. As a gift to the new VK kids at Auradon, Ben has commissioned small glass ornaments to match them. Almost as something to remind them or their home on the Isle. While this idea does appear flawed to you, it also gives you the chance to work with colours and shapes that you otherwise haven't able to do just yet. All that is left is to place the finished creations in their boxes and present them to the VKs. Not that you would ever dare do the latter part yourself. No, that would be left up to the ever-diplomatic King Ben. Thankfully. With a gentle hand, you move each of the glass ornaments into the designated boxes. A purple and green dragon for Mal (although Ben had also commissioned some glass strawberries to give her). A small rendition of Dude for Carlos. A viper curled around a tourney ball for Jay. Even the new Sea Three will have some of your work for their new dorm rooms. A cerulean octopus for Uma, a pirate ship for Harry (who is, in your opinion, the most terrifying VK of them all, just for sheer unpredictability) and a daffodil for sweet Gil. Each rests comfortably in the velvet inlays of their individual boxes. A line of beautiful, glimmering, evidences of a job well done. All of course, except for the final one: Evie's. The sapphire-haired girl who you've seen from afar and instantly taking a liking to. How could you not? She's beautiful, caring and incredibly intelligent. If she ever liked you back, you could perhaps give her the castle she's always wanted... only if she still wants it, naturally. Although you're loathe to admit it, you spent the majority of your allotted time working on Evie's gift. Making perhaps the most simple design of them all into something truly detailed and fragile. What had started out as a simple glass apple, has turned into that said red apple being melded to an intricate imitation of her glass mirror. With the tenderest hands of all, you place hers into the most opulent box of all. Then, after a second thought, you take a piece of parchment and write 'Love, Y/N' after a few lines of your confession of attraction. Then at least that creates a bridge between you... Right? Just as you start to second-guess yourself, a rap on the door brings the outside world to your attention. Yet, before you can even answer, Jane walks in as if she has a hellhound yipping at her heels. As ever, she has her trusty clipboard balanced in her arms; checking of this and that from her expansive to do list. "Y/N, Ben can't come and pick up the VK's gifts." "Oh no, why not?" You ask, gesturing to the tea pot. Shaking her head, she replies: "Unfortunately, he's come down with the flu and so the gift giving will be taken on by someone else." "You?" Taking your guess as you take a sip of tea from your mug. Grinning ruefully, Jane shakes her head once more. "As if I could find the time. No, Evie will take over." "E-Evie? As in Evie Grimhilde?" You splutter into your hot tea. "Yep! The one and only. We figured that it would come off as more of a friendly gesture from Evie, being a former VK and all." She starts to make a move to the door. "I just came to let you know, see you later Y/N!" You stare after her, blinking rapidly. Well, this isn't good. The one time you've ever had enough guts to broach the gap between yourself and your crush, and here is the opportunity that she will open her gift in front of your very eyes. Bad indeed. Just as you make a move towards Evie's box, the door open and you freeze. Completely. -------- The next task on Evie's list seems to be the nicest. One that, for once, she is genuinely excited to. If there's one thing she loves: it's to share the love. This gift giving will certainly allow her to do that. Plus, this task will allow her to finally meet one of her partners who makes all the royal events flow like a dream. While, she is fully aware that you are a daughter of Cinderella, she has no nerves at all. By all accounts, you are nothing like you brother. In fact, many people have told her that you would make quite a cute couple - especially now that dating Doug has fallen through. It's this thought - hope even - that leaves her walking quicker and with a small grin plastered on her face. "Oh Evie, you're early! Y/N's in there, no need to knock!" Jane cheerily throws her way, as she passes the blue-haired girl in the corridor. "Thanks Jane!" Evie replies with ease. Once Evie reaches the door to the glass-work studio, she knocks gently before letting herself in. "Hello, Y/N? It's me, Evie." Greeted by a sight of you hovering beside the row of coloured boxes, looking quite guilty by all accounts, she enters the room with a hesitant smile. Hand outstretched for you to shake, her smile warming as you scramble to take her hand in your own. "Hi, um nice to meet you?" Your voice is nervous, phrasing you opening phrase like a question in case she isn't as happy to see you as you are her. As you shake hands, your smile is fleeting but lovely; making Evie easily enchanted. Nothing like your brother - that she can instantly pick up on. In fact, you seem to be weighed down by your own nerves - nothing that Chad ever had. Where you struggle to accommodate her politely, Chad always acted on his own certainty of his popularity and the things that being royal afforded him. "Oh, um, I'm Y/N. The gifts are all here in their boxes, all labelled and everything." Evie watches as you run through the handover of the gifts; smiling as you become animated and giddy in passion. "They took me so long, and I hope you all the like them! Because you all deserve something beautiful, so I ended up pulling out so many all-nighters!" You grin at Evie. As she listens to you, her heart swells. No one has ever tried to offer her a gift before, not like this. Sure, Dizzy has given her knick knacks before and yes, they do mean everything to Evie... but this is something different. "Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot, seriously. All the VKs will find these gifts heartwarming, I know that for a fact." As she speaks, Evie lays a hand on your arm. Glancing down at this hand, you reply shakily: "Someone needs to show you guys some love." Another shaky smile. Breaking away, you hand her a navy-blue box. "Here's yours, Evie." The pair of you share a small smile, a friendship fully snapping into place between you. Yet, as you hand her the box, your smile freezes in place as you recall the note left in it. Spinning away swiftly as she opens it, you busy yourself tidying your tools. Evie quickly scans the note, a grin sticking to her face; lighting up her whole face. Every word is absent from the stuttering nervousness that impeach your face-to-face conversations. It's clearly stated, in black ink, that you have growing feelings for Evie - spurned onwards by tidbits about her given by other people. Just as she is for you. As she moves the note, she beholds the glass ornament that you made for her. Simply to say, she is shocked. Her eyes, wide as saucers, regard the apple and the mirror below it. "They're beautiful." She whispers in pure awe, gingerly stroking them with a calloused finger. Then, with an even softer look, she gazes at you and says: "You're beautiful too." "They'll look amazing on your shelf right? Wait - what did you say?" Your babble turns to a shocked silence as you regard her regarding you, with total goo-goo eyes. Eyes, that, only people in love make. "I said," she replies; voice husky "that you are absolutely beautiful." Her hands grasp yours, as you blubber at stunted, nervous reply of: "You too?" She smiles lightly, "If you help me give everyone their gifts," her dark eyes stray down to glance at your lips, "then afterwards, we can go to dinner. Would you like that, hmm?" You nod, almost breathless. "Okay, that sounds good. Great. Brilliant even." She smiles, broader than ever. "Good. Then consider it a date."

#descendants #disney descendants #Descendants 2 #descendants x reader #evie descendants #evie x reader #evie grimhilde #evie imagine #evie daughter of the evil queen #descendants imagine #descendants imagines #fluff #evie grimhilde fluff

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years

Text

MOVIE: PHANTOM HALO COUPLE: SAMMY (TBS) X READER RATING: SWEET

I stood looking at this dump. This old battered bungalow that would be our home for a while, my father already inside neck need in a bottle of whiskey. My brother organizing the little things we had with us, "Come on Sam don't you wanna come pick you're room?" He asked me I didn't want to answer, I didn't care to pick my room, I didn't want to be here, I wanted to anywhere but here. "You the new neighbors?" A voice asked I turned to the source of the voice and saw a beautiful girl. She was my age in a little blue dress with white lace in places, her hair fairly short with a blue bow in her hair and her face adorable. She had a pair of blue leggings hugging her close, a black cardigan over her with a little blue backpack with some multicoloured owls all over it and some tattered black converses, she stood on the path between our house and the next looking rather curious. "Yeah, who are you?" Becket asked "My name's y/n, I live next door" she smiled "hi" she waved to me "Hi" I blushed waving to her too trying to fix my hair a little "Hi, I'm Becket that's Samuel" he laughs hitting my back a little "Pleasure to meet you" she smiled widely looking at me a little I couldn't help the blush flooding my cheeks undoubtedly turning them bright red she giggled a little as she looked at me "Y/N!" A voice yelled from the house nextdoor "I best go, I'll see you around" she smiled waving and heading inside her own house "Shut your mouth Sam you'll catch flies" Becket laughed "ladies don't like when you stare" "I wasn't staring" I argue even if it came out more like a whine "Sam, your bright red, your mouth was hung open like a fish and you could just get thought hi without stuttering" he laughs "somebody's got a crush on the new neighbor girl" he laughs taking stuff inside "I don't have a crush! I've seen her once I literally can't have a crush on her yet" I argue taking most of my stuff inside looking at all three bedrooms each with a bed, a chest of draws and a lamp, my dad was passed out in the biggest at the front of the house so I went to look in one of the bedrooms trying to decide if I wanted it, looking at the fairly new black bedframe with a cosy mattress, and a window that looked to the next house as I was stood looking around I saw the light in the window nextdoor flick on and that girl went in the room it was clearly her bedroom as she stood brushing her hair and fixing her bow "I take it you want this room?" Becket smirked "Ahh! God dam it you made me jump... Uhhh yeah guess I'll have this room" I shrug looking at the stuff in it trying to avoid the window "nice uhh layout for my stuff" I lied "Yeah? Layout sammy... Nothing to do with the view?" He smirked looking at the window "Shut up and get out my room" I told him pushing him out and starting to sort my stuff "Fine just don't let caught being a perv" he laughs.

I stood in the garden tinkering with my dad's old car trying to get the thing to run, but nothing as of yet "Hi? Sammy right?" A voice asks making me jump a little I came out from having my head boarder line burried in the bonnet to see the girl from nextdoor y/n stood by the gate with her bag Be her normal shoes in her little bow same as ever in some black leggings with blue denim shorts and a little battered t shirt with cats on it and some books in her hand, I had seen her around since we moved in but I hadn't really ever got the courage to speak to her "Uhh hi, yeah that's me" I blushed rubbing my neck nervously "I wanted to ask, when will I be seeing you in school?" She asks coming into the garden "Oohh... I uhh I don't really go to school, I'm kinda... Home schooled I guess" I blushed nervous having her so close to me as she stood looking at me and the car "Oh I see" she says "same I was rather hoping I'd have someone to walk with" she says sounding a little disheartened "I'm sorry, if you like I don't mind walking with you some nights when it's dark and all" I offered "Thank you" she giggled "but it's quite alright, don't worry about me" she smiled "Here" she smiled getting a bit of paper from her books and writing something with a little pen handing it to me it "incase I need you to walk me home" she smiled before she gave me a little wave and went home.

I laid in bed listening to my dad shout and complain about everything and nothing. I didn't want to listen. I wanted a distraction more then anything else in the world, I grabbed the little folded peice of paper from my table looking at it 'y/n' in her sweet little hand writing with her number along the bottom, I wish I could call her or send her a message but I didn't have a phone I didn't want to tell her, but at the same time I felt bad she gave me her number and maybe she was waiting for a message from me but I couldn't ever send one, I studied every cruve of the name and phone number for hours noticing the ink marks in letters or numbers where she had let the pen lingure, I noticed the paper was clearly a work sheet of some kind so I turned it over it looked like some kinda homework assignment

"For I dream a thousand dreams every moment of everyday, wishing, wanting always to be elsewhere, Dreaming that some day this may be a distant memory, That the days I spend dreaming where just plans for a future, A future that sometimes is all that makes me wish to remin on earth.'

It was beautiful it was obvious from the handwriting and the fact her name was on the top that she had written this. My heart was a flutter at her beautiful words, and in a way I felt the same as her. The paper had a sweet scent the smell lingured on the paper and in the ink of popcorn, strawberries, the sweet smell of fresh sheets, with a little of hairspray and daisies. I felt in love with that scent, and I think I was kinda... Falling in love with her.

I sat on the steps of the portch, the light by the door flickering, attracting s few bugs to hover around it in the light. The cold air whistling past as the air began to chill as night grew closer. The sound of my dad shouting and breaking things, my brother went out even though my dad ordered him not to. So I sat on the steps in the cold with my comic books "Hi" a voice smiled I looked up and saw y/n in a little yellow sundress and her little denim jacket and her backpack "Ohh hi y/n" I smiled "You didn't message me" she said sadly "I know I uhh... I've been meaning to tell you I uhh I don't have a phone" I told her "Ohh, that's alright" she smiled sitting next to me "what are you reading?" She asks "Oh the new phantom halo" I told her "he has to save these planets from this invading war obsessed creatures on this big-" I began "sorry..." "No it's sweet" she smiled "who's that?" She asked pointing at my comic book "Ohh that's felicity may, phantom halos kinda love interest" "Like Lois lane?" She asks "Umm more like cat woman, they fight and they're kinda into each other it's complicated" I laughed "It sounds cool, you'll have to let me borrow a couple some day" she smiled "Yeah sure" I blushed "Becket!!!" Screamed from inside

"What was that?" she asks

"that's my dad" I sighed "He's drunk"

"Ohh sam" she says sadly reassuringly putting her hand on my shoulder pulling me so I rested my head on her shoulder, I wasn't going to stop her she was so cosy and soft I could her scent so strong especially her sweet perfume "It's okay," she says hugging me tightly wrapping both her arms around me I smile widely not wanting to waste an opportunity wrapping my arms around her too cuddling her tightly, she warmed me up so much inside an out. "My dad does that too," she says

"he does?" I asked "Ohh y/n... if you want when your dad does that you can go sit in the car, I put a lot of my comics back there so you can sit and read and stuff while he's drunk... I do" I offer

"Thats sweet of you" she smiled

"Y/N!" he yelled from her house

"I'll see you sammy" she smiled giving me a little wave as she ran off home

"See you y/n" I blushed, as soon as my dad had passed out I went inside laying on my bed cuddling my pillow imaging it was her.

I stop tinkering with my car for a while trying to get it to run when-

"Hi" a voice smiled making me jump hitting my head on the bonnet

"Owww" I yelled moving out and seeing y/n

"Ohh sam I'm so sorry," she says

"No, No it's okay," I told her "Are you okay?" I asked

"I'm okay, I wanted to come to visit" she smiled "I have something for you"

"for me?" I asked excitedly

"I found it in the basement, it still works." she smiled getting something out her bag "at least until you get the radio working in your car," she says handing me a little pocket radio she turned it on it playing some sweet tunes

"Aww y/n you don't have to give me this," I told her

"I want to," she smiled "so we can listen to music when we read comics"

"Thank you so much y/n" I smiled taking the radio and giving her cheek a kiss

"Your welcome" she smiled giving me a little wave as she went home blowing me a little kiss as she went.

I sat in the back of my car with my torch with my comic books, my dad was drunk again and Becket out with his girlfriend so I was hiding back her. I jumped a little as the radio on my dashboard began playing a sweet tune I was confused but I saw y/n stood in a little dress

"Hi" she smiled

"Hi" I smiled

"Can I stay here? my dads drunk" she says

"yeah... my dad too, come on you can stay here with me" I smiled and she got in the back seat with me

"What are you reading?" she asks

"Another phantom halo" I tell her

"Ohh can I read?" she asks

"sure" I smiled letting her see my comic, we sat reading for a while till she tugged on my "You okay?" I asked her and she smiled giving my lips a kiss I was in shock as she pulled away "whoa..."

"sorry" she blushed

"What are you sorry for?" I asked

"I shouldn't have-" she began but I kissed her back

"I've been wanting to kiss you ever since I met you," I told her

"Aww... best make up for lost time then" she smiled pulling me closer an kissing me again.

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

Text

Pirouette Prologue

A Bodyguard AU!

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Violence and blood.

Taglist is open -comment or send an ask!

Abstraction. That is what drives the penultimate scene of your ballet production as a man in a devil costume sautés towards you in maladroit strokes.

Pointed toe facing forward, arms careened overhead in an arch, you wait patiently for your dance partner to hit his mark. Your breathing is soft and deep. A quiet, contemplative moment.

Then the music swells and the concerto grows darker, the tempo rises quicker and quicker in an ominous premonition.

The audience members hold their breath as this masquerading devil ensnares you within his callous touch. Under his epileptic caresses, you begin to move. Writhing and struggling as he chases after you once you break free.

Delicate steps meant to invoke the essence of innocence and fragility unfold in a sacred dance between two opposing forces. The dance escalates into a crusade between light and dark. Your movements are losing their delicateness, trading it in for a show of distress. His movements are a darker contrast to your own. Always a step behind. Always overshadowing your shadow. Morphing it into an inhuman silhouette.

Gasps leave agape mouths as a violin screams through the hot air in a flat note. Faint, beautiful melodies of a grand piano are drowned out by the cacophony of chaos –the distortion of the devil’s symphony.

Your skirmish grows more desperate, your movements becoming less fluid and more forceful. As the climax fast approaches, you feel your chest strain against your corset.

You swing your leg from front to back, tilting your upper body slightly backwards, opposite to the direction of your leg. The masked devil hovers over you, lips obstructed by hard, red plastic. With a chaste kiss, both your bodies tumble to the ground, folding into a death pose.

The music stops, the main stage lights turn on with a shuttering echo and suddenly, the whole theatre is stripped of its silence and replaced by thunderous applause.

Your dance partner rises from the ground and leans over to help you up. You bow and wave as rose petals shower at your feet. A blush sets on your face as your eyes begin to well up with pride.

This night, like every other night, was worth all the dislocated toes and worn-out shoes you’d suffered. Beyond a doubt.

Antoine, the director, saunters over, his flamboyant holographic coat shifting like plastic, “You two were spectacular out there!” He sends out blow kisses, a big elated grin on his middle-aged face.

“A true compliment to the genius behind our success,” your dance partner, Julian, replies.

On either side of you, the set crew walk past carrying several prop pieces to be returned to storage. Antoine is already focused on his phone when it beeps. “Oh, how enchanting! One of the columnists in the New Yorker just sent me a proof of his review.”

Julian arches a brow, hand peeling off his red mask completely, “Isn’t that against policy?”

Antione hushes him with a coy wink, “It’s only frowned upon when the reviews are less than stellar, and they aren’t! Now go and do… whatever it is young kids like yourselves do on a Friday night!”

You bit back a smile as you watched your director strut towards the set crew, barking orders in his pleasantly light tone.

“Hey, Y/N, you were great today,” Julian ruffles his jelled back hair, shooting you a dastardly smile. “Like always.”

You mimick his action and undo your bun, hair flowing downwards. The uncomfortable pull on your follicles subsiding. You take a breath before answering, “I’m only as good as my partner.”

He blushes, hands fidgeting as he walks with you towards your dressing room, “Listen, a few of us were planning on going out for drinks –to celebrate. We’d love to have the star of the show kick back a few shots with the rest of us.”

“I’d love to,” you place your hand on his shoulder, slightly annoyed at the fact you were going to have to cancel. Again.

Julian’s lips screw upwards, “I know that look, there’s a ‘but’ coming isn’t there.”

“But… my brother promised to take me out. He promised it would be a night to remember. One of his famous extravagant outings that starts with dinner and a bottle of overly expensive champagne, and ends with a drunk spur of the moment trip to Milan… again,” You giggle at the memory. “But have a few shots in my honour.”

Julian leans over and places a kiss on your cheek. Somehow it doesn’t feel nearly as chaste as the kiss from before. You clear your throat when his lips linger a little too long and he jumps back in a subtle and swift motion.

“See you during rehearsals then,” he stretches his arm muscles until they let out a satisfying pop as he makes his way to the adjoining dressing room.

Halfway through applying your mascara, your phone starts to vibrate against your propped up elbow causing you to gasp in freight and drag the wet, black brush across your one closed eyelid. You glance down at the screen trying to see who it is. The illuminated screen displays a blurry photo of Tony’s sleeping face partially covered by a green party hat with a fake twirly moustache scribbled on his upper lip in permanent ink. You beam a smile as your thumb taps on the screen, fond memories of his last New Year’s Eve party flashing by in a bright reel of happy laughs and multicoloured streamers.

“Hey, Wonton,” you call him by his nickname, bringing your phone to your ear. “You almost here or…?”

“Prima! Hey, sorry to do this to you again, but…”

A sigh fills the room. You know what’s coming. It’s par for the course with him lately. “Something’s come up, hasn’t it?”

“Impromptu meeting with the board, they’re still a little wary about the clean energy deal, you know how these suits can get.” He gives a speedy reply.

You slump back into your chair, your hand already armed with a face wipe, dragging the wet material across your downcast face. A smudge of black smears down the corner of your eye. You draw out the silence so he knows how unhappy you are with this sudden change of plans. A tactic you’d perfected since childhood.

After a beat, you answer him, “I can’t say I wasn’t looking forward to our dinner, but we all have jobs to do and Stark Industries pays the bills.”

Tony exhales and you can practically envision him pinching the bridge of his nose, “Look, I could ask Pep to go with you. I still have the reservation and she’s almost wrapped up here.”

“No, that’s alright. Talk to you later Wonton.”

“Later and congratulations, I hear your closing night was a big success. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there in person.”

You stare into the mirror, glaring at the forced smile that you have on show for no one but yourself. You’re trying to make yourself feel better, but it isn’ working. “I’m a big girl, I can stomach a little disappointment. Now go save the world.”

You chuck your phone onto the dresser and finish wiping off the evidence that you had spent a good fifteen minutes doing your make-up. A yawn slipping between pressed lips as you grab your coat and bag off the rack.

Maybe Julian and the others haven’t left yet.

The sound of your heels clomping down on the polished floor is very pronounced in the dimly lit studio. A shiver runs up your spine when you realise how hauntingly empty the building is. You don’t like being the last one to leave. This place always carries an eerieness to it.

You knock on Julian’s door, hoping he and the others are still around, but the silence persists. With another sigh, you decide to give up on the prospects of doing anything fun besides soaking your raw muscles in an Epsom salt bath for the rest of the night.

Yellow ochre is the shade of colour that streams off the alleyway street lamps behind the theatre. Empty food cartons and discarded newspapers tumble in the cold breeze. The faint stench of booze and urine and cigarettes staining the walls.

An unsettling sensation sinks to the bottom of your stomach, and seeing as how you already ate earlier, it isn’t hunger gnawing at your digestive muscle. Clouds of mist form when your warm breath meets the chilling air, the hairs on the nape of your neck stand erect –prickling with static and something else. You brace your arms around your waist, tucking your chin under the cover of your upturned coat’s collar. It feels like something is watching you in the obscurity of dark corners.

Like second nature, your pace quickens, heels echoing even louder in the cold night air. To your utter despair, just when you are about to turn the bend -into the safety of light- rough hands yank at the straps of your bag, pulling you back into the darkness.

Your body hits the ground, hard. Skin grazed apart leaving a raw ache on your knees and now twisted ankle. Your head is cracked open when it slams against the sharp edge of a dumpster. A stream of blood courses down from your brow, covering one eye in warm, red liquid. You let out a yelp, pain going unnoticed as your fight or flight instincts kick in.

In the midst of your scurry, you hear, but don’t see, a person shout in a gravelly voice, “Gimmie your purse and your jewellery, now!”

You reach into your coat for your phone, but your shaky fingers are unable to get a good grip and regrettably, your phone lands screen-side down onto the ground. A cracking noise letting you know the screen has shattered and so has all hope of calling for help. The pounding in your brain gets stronger the more panicked you become.

The imposing presence hovers closer, a sickly energy surrounding his large frame. What is happening now is a more savage re-enactment of your ballet, only this time you are not the one in control. You cannot foresee the turning of events before they transpire because you haven’t rehearsed this particular dance with the devil.

Your stomach tangles into itself, bile and acid burning at your throat as you try to scream. All senses are rendered inert from the loss of blood. Your body convulses from fear as that shadowy figure staggers closer –his movements are crude, hindered by inebriated muscles.

Using what last few senses you have left, you brace your head and recline in a foetal position –waiting for the worst of it to pass while you cower under the flimsy protection of shivering arms. Then you hear a struggle. Faint echoes of a grunt born from pain and surprise. Profanity being bellowed out of a clenching jaw, and not too soon after, you hear a heavy thud. The kind that reminds you of bones hitting into metal. It’s quiet now, except for the rattle of rolling trash cans.

“Are you alright?” a strong, concerned voice asks. “Do you need me to call you an ambulance?”

You peek through the cover of your arms catching sight of an ocean trapped within a set of sad eyes, a gentle hand stretching out towards you.

“Who…” the world spins faster on its axis, taking you along for the ride. Mouth turning dry and raspy, you try your words one more time. “Who are you?”

“Bucky,” the stranger says as his arms pull you onto his lap, half his face illuminated by the cold artificial blue of his cell phone. He plucks the hairs sticking to your bloody face away as he dials 911. “My name’s Bucky.”

Then everything goes black.

Tags: @hosiebarnes

Counterpart & AFWI tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader @ladybugsfanfics @ninaminaromina @xstevenat

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

#bucky barnes #bodyguard!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #mcu #avengers #bodyguard au #pirouette #Bucky AU

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rwbyremnants · 5 years

Link

=Chapter 4

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Weiss squirmed as Pyrrha parked in front of the dilapidated-looking building. They had been given directions to a restaurant previously known as “Shopkeeper’s” for whatever reason, that now served as the main headquarters for the Dragons. She knew they had the right address, because the ink was still emblazoned across her palm from that morning. At the same time, knowing it was the right address didn’t allay her every fear, so she couldn’t expect it to do that for Pyrrha, either. Sighing, she adjusted her pink cardigan and turned to the tall girl behind the steering wheel.

“We’ll never know unless we go in there, right?”

“It’s such a rough neighbourhood,” she whispered, glancing around warily. Her own outfit was a little more conservative, a grey jacket covering the top half of her long dress that fell all the way to her ankles. “A-and they terrify me. But if you’re sure they won’t hurt us…”

“I don't think they will. I mean, we’re no threat to them in general, and Yang is… a genuinely good person.” Saying it sounded so true that she knew examining that was futile. “So she won’t let anything bad happen, anyway.”

Nodding, Pyrrha turned off the engine and adjusted her ponytail. They almost looked like they were trying to be twins, given that their hairstyle and outfits were so similar. “My parents would ground me for a thousand years if they caught me doing this…”

“Don’t you want to live a little?”

“No!”

Laughing, Weiss got out of the car. Pyrrha could be such a stick in the mud sometimes - and that was coming from a real prude such as she.

The inside of Shopkeeper’s was actually fairly well-maintained, even if the outside and the entryway were filthy and gutted, the windows blacked out. It was dimly-lit but as tidy as the bar Yang had taken her to previously. Several round tables littered the main space, but some of the dining floor had been cleared away for the purposes of dancing, and one corner now played host to a pool table. A jukebox played softly in another corner, even if the multicoloured lights along its surface flickered now and then. No one was smoking; that seemed to take place outside, as with many restaurants, even though the purpose of this one had clearly changed. The bar was well-stocked, and an older woman with multiple tattoos tended the drinks as the denizens relaxed.

As it turned out, there were a few more Dragons than they realised. Not many, but the girls Weiss saw in the halls of Beacon High weren’t their full complement, as she had wrongfully assumed. Most of the new faces were older faces. Three ladies that were at least old enough to be her mother sat around one of the tables, laughing and slapping their thighs as a younger girl with brown hair, buzzed nearly down to the scalp, delivered them another round before heading back to the bar.

“Well… fudge,” Pyrrha breathed. “There are so many!”

“It’s okay,” Weiss whispered to her as they shuffled very slowly into the room. More than ever, she felt self-conscious in her saddle shoes and skirt; they definitely didn’t suit the atmosphere. But trying to wear anything else would have been a less than authentic representation of who she was. “Just… act natural.”

“You owe me for this, Weiss. I mean… a huge hot fudge sundae.”

Just then, a voice cried out, “The princess has arrived! And she brought a snack!”

As a few of them laughed, Cinder Fall approached from the wings, hands on her hips and stepping lively. This time, she was wearing black jeans and a red top that covered next to nothing. She had left her leather jacket draped over the back of a chair.

“H-hello again,” Pyrrha offered with a hopeful smile.

“Who asked you to come? The invitation was for one.”

“And I appreciated it,” Weiss cut in before Pyrrha could be too upset by the summary dismissal. “But I thought my friend might want to come see what this place is like, as well. That’s not a big deal, is it?”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“Whatever,” Cinder sighed, waving for both of them to follow. “If Salem kicks you out, that’s it, but she probably won’t care. Bringing in extra men is what typically boils her oil.”

Just as they arrived at the table, seeing that Emerald and Coco were absent but Blake was relaxing with a beer, Weiss asked, “So… is Yang here? I thought she said she would be.”

“What’s your hurry? She’s in with Salem, kissing her boots.”

“Oh? In a back room or something?” When Cinder only shrugged carelessly and dropped into her chair again, Weiss nodded and took one of the other chairs. “Ah.”

“Don’t worry,” Blake assured her with a less cruel smile than her companion. “It won’t be long. Since Yang’s our leader at the school and on certain turf, she has to report to Salem and compare notes, stuff like that.”

Something confused Weiss. “I thought she was the Dragon. And the leader. So… if she’s not the leader, and this Salem is, then why…?”

Cinder sighed, sipping at her martini. Weiss noticed Pyrrha looking horrified that girls their age were drinking so heavily, but at least she was making no comment. “You really don’t know, do you? Might want to ask her yourself. But let’s just say Yang’s not the first Dragon; she’s the current one.”

“Ah,” Pyrrha spoke up at last. “So it’s like being class president?”

Both of the Dragons just stared at her.

Luckily, they didn’t need to elaborate or segue into another topic. A door creaked open some distance from them, and out walked Yang with another gangster at her side. This Dragon had mottled patches of skin and a long red-brown ponytail, and standing next to Yang, she looked quite short. They exchanged a few words, and then turned in their direction.

“Oh boy,” Blake sighed.

“I think it’s cute,” Cinder muttered, though that was all she said before the two had arrived at their table. “Welcome back, Boss. Ilia.”

“You made it,” Yang said with a slight smile. Of course, she was back to being a little more gruff now that she was around her gang again, but that was fine; Weiss expected as much. “And… who… the hell?”

“This is Pyrrha,” Weiss said, gesturing toward her and pausing while she bowed her head slightly. “I needed a ride, and thought this might be a good opportunity for my friends to meet.”

“Ooh, ‘friends’,” Cinder mocked, and Blake snorted. “What an ice cream social we’re having here.”

“Down, Cindy,” Yang sighed, which did actually shut her up post haste. “It’s cool. But if you bring any more people, it might be wiser if you ran it past me first. But Pyrrha seems okay.”

As Weiss was sighing in relief, the short stranger moved to sit in a vacant chair next to Blake. “Um, so is there anything I can get you?”

“I’m good,” Blake said casually.

“You sure? I think Kali is cooking today, a-and she’s a pretty fantastic cook.”

Blake just stared at her for a minute. “You know that’s my mom, right? I’m fairly aware of how good her cooking is.”

Instantly, Ilia was beet red and looking down at her fists where they rested on her knees. Cinder let out another chuckle into her glass as she drained it, and Yang rolled her eyes.

“Okay. Sorry, I’ll… get back to work.” Flashing an awkward smile, Ilia peeled herself out of the seat and hurried up to the bar. Weiss felt awful for the girl, but it was also none of her business, so she kept silent.

“Never mind her,” Yang said as she plopped down on Weiss’s other side. Luckily, they were sat in the two chairs that would normally be reserved for Emerald and Coco, or the table would have been very overcrowded. “She’s new and still tries to kiss up to the seniors. Doesn’t know her place yet. But I think she’ll do alright.”

“I don’t recognise her from school,” Pyrrha said. “But she’s about our age, isn’t she?”

“Goes to Signal High,” Blake grumbled. She definitely didn’t sound thrilled to still be talking about this. “On the other side of the tracks. Sad when joining the Dragons is a step up.”

“Shut up,” Cinder snapped, standing to refresh her martini on her own. “The Dragons are the best thing about this godforsaken town.” Then she was gone.

“Wow,” Weiss breathed. “What’s getting her goat?”

Yang shrugged, snaking an arm around Weiss’s back. The presence did make her feel a little less nervous about this entire situation, but now she felt more nervous about other people seeing them be affectionate than about the affection itself. “Who knows with her? Always crabby.”

“Not always,” Blake said. “Just… almost-always.” Then she turned to Pyrrha. “So what about you? Decathlon star, or something, right? Why would you come down to our rathole?”

“To give Weiss a ride,” she answered.

“But you’re still here. I mean, were you hoping to get a look at how the wrong half lives?”

Pyrrha’s already-strained face became further saddened. “Please, don’t think that. My parents donate every year to the Restoration Project.”

“Great,” Yang put in, leaning back a little more. Weiss felt the draw to slide sideways and rest against her shoulder, but resisted for the time being. “All we need is someone coming in, trying to bulldoze Shopkeeper’s. Then we’d have to find a new spot.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t- well, they’re just doing their best to-”

“We know,” Blake cut her off. “And I do know a couple poorer families who have a nicer place now because of that project. Just… doesn’t always work out great for everyone, that’s all.”

Now Pyrrha looked thoroughly depressed, and Weiss felt it was her own fault. So she put in, “Yeah. Helps a lot of families. And anyway, at worst they would probably just demand you get this place up to code, not tear it down; it looks solid enough.”

“Maybe,” she conceded with a small chuckle and a smile.

“Let’s grab some grub,” Yang grunted, pushing to stand. “Blake, you want anything? We both know how you hate to bother her while she’s working.”

The Italian Dragon gave an indifferent shrug, but her eyes said something else entirely. They were almost embarrassed, but if Weiss were to give it a name, she would call the expression concerned-yet-annoyed. But all she said was, “Fries.”

“Got it. Keep my friend entertained.”

“Sure,” she snorted with a glance over. Pyrrha gulped.

It didn’t take them long to cross the restaurant and push their way through the swinging doors into the kitchens. A few Dragons were in there, though none of them wore leather jackets while working on the food orders. An olive-skinned woman who forcibly reminded Weiss of Blake was reprimanding one of them on her burger-forming technique as they watched.

“Is… everyone here a woman?” Weiss asked Yang in an undertone.

“Yeah. Kind of our thing, right? Though guys aren’t technically banned; we just make them feel so unwelcome they choose to leave on their own. Not even on purpose.” Her arm looped around Weiss’s neck and dragged her along toward the chef. “We’re just sooooo hospitable.”

“Why, hello,” Kali Belladonna said as she smiled across at them, hands clapping in front of her ample chest that was outlined all too well by her thin shirt - and lack of anything underneath. Weiss tried not to glance downward, but they were just out there. “Who’s this we have here? Fresh blood?”

“Nah, not really. Kali, this is Weiss Schnee.”

Her eyebrows went up a little higher. “Not the daughter of the Schnees? Wow, you really don’t have any idea where you are right now, do you?”

“I’m perfectly aware.” A half-beat later, she remembered her manners and added, “But it’s nice to meet you.”

“Sweet young woman. Even if she’s eyeing my tits like a death row inmate.” When Weiss flushed and looked away, she chuckled and turned back to Yang. “What’ll it be?”

“Some fries. Oh, and you got any of that barbecue pork left?”

“All gone, I’m afraid. Right now, we have… burgers coming up, a pot of minestrone, and a big chocolate cake in the fridge.”

“What do you think? Burgers again?” After a heartbeat of silence, she snapped her fingers. “Yo, Weiss!”

Blinking rapidly, she stammered, “O-of course! Though I… wouldn’t mind trying the minestrone.”

That choice seemed to please Kali. She had a feeling that if Blake smiled more often than once in a blue moon, the family resemblance would be more obvious. “If I’d known someone with actual class was coming, I’d have made my garlic tortellini. But alright, I can fetch you a cup of soup.” In an undertone, she told Yang, “Hang onto that one.” Though she didn’t trouble to keep her voice down, and sent a little wink at Weiss before turning back to the stove.

“Awww, she likes you,” Yang teased the red-faced girl. “Maybe you’ll get a better look at her tits later if you play your cards right.”

“Quiet, you.”

Soon enough, they were heading back to the main area. Yang had a fairly large hamburger that looked good, but different from the one at Junior’s; a larger patty, no sesame seeds on the bun. Weiss’s cup of soup was steaming and in the middle of a plate with oyster crackers ringing the cup itself.

The table was a little more crowded when they got back to it. And Weiss was rather shocked at the activity taking place there.

“Isn’t this better?” Cinder was asking, arm looped around Pyrrha’s shoulders to hold her in her lap. The grey jacket was now on the back of the chair and Pyrrha seemed to be wearing a Dragon instead. She looked as if she wanted to expire on the spot; Weiss honestly couldn’t tell if she was flattered or horrified by the attention, because the polite girl looked so concerned with not doing anything that might upset the insistent woman.

“Y-yes, of course. Thank you.”

Sighing, Yang plopped into her chair from before. “Go home, Cinder, you’re drunk.”

“I can’t. I’m showing this tall sweetheart a good time. Aren’t I, sweetheart?”

“You’re certainly trying,” Weiss’s friend laughed nervously.

“You know,” she went on, her other hand drifting up to let the back of her index finger graze along Pyrrha’s now-bare bicep, “there are a few… private booths in the back room. Normally, we can’t use them; that’s for the elders only. But Salem likes me. We could get better acquainted.”

“No, thank you.” When Cinder’s eyes flashed, she added, “I, um… I’m happy here, getting to know all of you!”

“Yeah, Cinder,” Blake put in, also a little tipsy but clearly with more pure intentions than those of her fellow thug. “She likes all of us. Don’t hog her all to yourself; let her hang out.”

Shrugging as if it didn’t matter to her, Cinder settled in again and pet up along Pyrrha’s neck. “Is there anyone at school you’re interested in a teensy bit more than others, perhaps?”

“Well… if you mean do I have a crush, I don’t, really. Though…”

“Though?”

Pyrrha gulped, and she shivered from the touch. Weiss was beginning to get angry, even if she was also curious what kind of reactions her friend would keep having if this went unchecked. “Th-there is this boy, in my algebra class; he’s k-kind of a square and not very good at math, but I can t-tell he’s trying his best…”

“Oh,” she sighed in disgust, withdrawing entirely to her own personal space and grasping her martini glass. “A straightie.”

Though the word was flung like a curse word, Yang chuckled, “Why are you surprised? Most of the girls at Beacon are straight. You tested a lot of them yourself.”

“Sue me. Tall, leggy pin-up goddess like this one is wasted on men.”

Whereas the physical attentions had seemed to turn Pyrrha into a nervous wreck, those words did a lot more to bring an honest blush to her cheeks. “Goddess? Me?”

“Sure,” Cinder purred, turning bedroom eyes in her direction that made Weiss feel less comfortable, even without being their target. “Have you ever seen yourself in the mirror? Not just those legs, either; pretty big honeydews.”

“H-honeydews?” It was Blake who reached over and poked a single finger into Pyrrha’s breast, and she instantly shrank in on herself. “Oh… I… oh.”

“Hey,” Yang spoke up, just as Weiss had been about to. “Maybe ease off her a little, huh?”

“Why?” Cinder demanded. “She’s in our space. She needs to learn how things work here.”

“They work by making everybody uncomfortable and like they don’t have any right to say ‘no’, huh? News to me. I thought we were the Dragons, not the predators.”

This time, her eyes smouldered in a completely different way as she glared at her leader. “Dragons are predators.”

“Actually, Komodo dragons are cannibals. You want me to eat you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she muttered with a slight smirk. But in this case, it was clear the forceful woman was entirely joking; she had no such designs on the Dragon herself.

“Um…” Pyrrha held up her hand. “I would like to not be eaten at all?”

Though Weiss had been afraid the comment was going to annoy the others, instead it made them laugh. Blake leaned over and pounded Pyrrha on the back, which finally got her to titter along with them. Weiss relaxed and began to dig into her soup.

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

The night wore on. Though Yang did kiss the side of Weiss’s head a few times, she made no more forward overtures than those; they simply enjoyed each other’s company. Once the newness of Pyrrha and Weiss’s presence wore off, the others began to talk of internal Dragon matters that weren’t so secret they minded outside ears hearing them, and other casual topics of conversation such as the weather, local sports, and who was dating whom.

Other Dragons drifted in and out. Ilia came back and buzzed around Blake’s ears for a little while, and the other girl tolerated the attention fairly well, but Cinder ran her off with a few snide comments. That time, Pyrrha spoke up on her behalf but was largely ignored. Emerald showed up a little later, having had dinner with her family. The other server, whose named turned out to be Vernal, dropped by and chatted with them a little, though she didn’t seem to much care for Weiss or Pyrrha and went back to serve the others soon after.

At some point, Salem emerged. Weiss never got a decent look at her, because she was wearing an actual cloak - like something out of a movie. She spoke with the bartender for a moment, then slipped out the back door and into the night. No one else remarked on this, so she didn’t feel comfortable doing so herself.

Then things took a turn for the more depressing.

The instant Coco showed up with a friend in tow, the atmosphere shifted. All focus was pulled to them, and though the jukebox continued to play softly, no one spoke as the two approached the table in the corner. The way the smaller, meeker girl at her side was sobbing and being cradled by both of Coco’s arms had everything to do with that budding tension.

“Shit,” Cinder whispered.

“What is it?” Weiss breathed to Yang. But Yang only held up a hand, lowering it again as they finally got close enough to speak.

And it was Coco who did. “They’re moving.”

“Oh no,” Blake breathed. The others didn’t speak, merely tensed.

“I t-tried to talk them out of it,” the mousy girl whispered, long brown hair swishing as she shook her head violently, fat tears glistening on their way down her cheeks. She had an accent that Weiss couldn’t quite place right away, but she sounded British. “They say it’s f-for the best. That I haven’t been d-doing that well in Vale, anyway… I… I don’t want to go back!”

As she broke down completely again, she turned and shoved her face against Coco’s shoulder. Emerald and Blake stood to pet up and down her back, offering what comfort they could.

“What’s happening?” Pyrrha whispered to Cinder.

“Shh,” she said, but it was devoid of her usual bite and nastiness. The concern was only for one of their number who was suffering.

When they had the two sat down in another booth a little ways off, Emerald and Blake staying with them, Yang explained, “Velvet’s from Australia, and her parents want to move back. Uh… and we’re pretty sure it’s because they know she’s going with Coco, even though they don’t have any proof.”

“Fooling around with all of us,” Cinder grunted. “I’d have kept my hands off if I knew it would lead to this.”

“We don’t know that for sure. Just… they’ve been dropping hints.”

“That’s awful,” Pyrrha whispered. “Do they really think changing locations will change who their daughter is?”

At that, Cinder looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not going to start talking about God? About His plan for us, how we’ve strayed? Leviticus and whatever? Your father’s a preacher, if I’m not mistaken.”

“He’s a parishioner. And my father doesn’t believe in focusing on all the fire-and-brimstone parts of the Bible; he says focusing on negative things is not God’s way, and it’s not his way.” Then she shrugged her shoulders, self-conscious now. “Though… I don’t know how he’d feel about me hanging around with…”

“With what?” No response. “Go on, say it. With bulldykes.”

“I would never say that.”

Cinder chuckled harshly. “You really wouldn’t, would you? Might be biased, but there’s not a mean bone in your body. The Dykey Dragons would swallow you whole if you keep coming back here.”

“Hey,” Yang said, and this time her sharp tone conveyed everything she needed to say. Even Weiss flinched, simply because she was so close to her. Cinder’s lips tightened for a second, but then she went back to drinking, no longer needling Pyrrha about her parents and their beliefs.

But eventually, Pyrrha surprised them by speaking up. “It’s alright. I… don’t understand much about what I’ve seen today, a-and what Weiss has been telling me. It’s only right that I listen, to try to understand.”

Yang nodded a few times. “Pretty decent of you. Most of the people you go to church with would probably just shove us in a muddy ditch. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“They wouldn’t! I mean… I hope they wouldn’t.”

“They would,” Cinder said very shortly, voice hollow. As if speaking from experience.

“I wouldn’t. And neither would my father and mother.” Her hand fell to Cinder’s forearm on the table top. “But I’m sorry if-”

Cinder jerked away, standing up and downing the rest of her drink before she went to the bar. Though Yang sighed, she made no other comment right away; only moved her leftover chips around on her plate.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha breathed.

“Don’t be,” Yang sighed. “Cinder’s always like that, especially when it comes to straighties. Religion and stuff. She, uh… she’s had a pretty crummy life until now. The Dragons really do mean everything to her.”

Weiss couldn’t help saying, “Then she might try being less rude to everyone.”

“Oh, she might,” Yang said with a slight smile. “I sure as hell try to loosen her up. But she’s just… yeah, real serious. I think she could be the Dragon someday, if I ever got out.”

“Got out? Are you leaving Vale?”

“No, not Vale. Just… the gang. But I don’t think I really want that; it’s just tempting sometimes.” Her smile turned a little wry. “Maybe I’ll marry you and we can play tennis all day.”

While Weiss was laughing, Pyrrha looked a little confused. “Marry? But you can’t. I mean, not legally.”

“Ain’t you ever heard of a Boston Marriage?” Yang chuckled. “Maybe we’ll move to Boston. I don’t know, maybe they don’t still do that.”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha whispered. “I didn’t mean to imply… well, of course you can live together. As friends, as far as anyone else is concerned.”

Propping her boots up on the table, Yang sighed and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Then she whispered, “You think maybe, in the future, we’ll be able to get married? Weirdos like us, I mean.”

“Maybe,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“Not with Eisenhower in office,” Weiss grunted. “All he cares about is the Russians and his precious nukes.”

“That might not be entirely fair; he did sign the Civil Rights Act. So maybe…”

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

That topic kept them bantering back and forth for the better part of an hour. Eventually, Pyrrha began to yawn, so she asked Weiss if she wanted a ride back. Yang was so eager to offer to drop her at home herself that Weiss almost laughed, but she declined the offer.

“Awww, why not?”

“Because I think it might be smart if my father actually sees Pyrrha dropping me off for once,” she said as she dusted off her knees. Pyrrha was just finishing off the milkshake Kali had whipped up for her and sliding it to the middle of the table. “Since I’m using her as my alibi.”

Shaking her head, the tall ginger said, “I wish you wouldn’t put it that way; we haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Try telling my family that. Mother would probably just tell me to be safe before she poured herself another glass of cordial, but Father…” Deciding not to go down that road, she said, “And my big sister is away at State, learning how to be a congresswoman or something, but she’d probably box my ears, too.”

“Glad to hear I’m so likeable,” Yang said with a grin, though the tone was slightly bitter. Then she glanced at Pyrrha. “Where are you going?”

Freezing on her way to the other corner, she said, “Oh… I… well, I was going to offer my condolences to Velvet. Would that… not be welcome?”

“Nah, go on. She could use all the cheering up she can get right about now.”

With Pyrrha gone, Weiss turned and pecked Yang on the cheek. “Sorry we didn’t get much time to ourselves. But hey, at least we got to hang out for most of the day.”

“True,” Yang sighed, sliding her arm around Weiss’s waist as they watched Pyrrha approach the booth. Her pulse ticked up a few notches at their closeness, but that was getting a bit more tolerable now; she didn’t feel like it was a full-on panic attack every time Yang cuddled her anymore. “And your pal there is pretty alright. Reminds me of Velvet when she first started coming. A little of you, too.”

“Me? How so?”

“She’s your friend; you should know the ways you two are peas in a pod.”

Dipping her head, she laughed, “I guess so. But I like to think that none of us are this one thing or that one thing. I hate being boxed in.”

“Hey, you’re preachin’ to the choir, Schnee. Being a Dragon… it really cut me off from some things I wanted to do.”

“Like what?”

“Oh…” She shrugged, and Weiss could tell she was a little more nervous about continuing that topic. “Well, it was great for learning how to work on cars, being strong, stuff like that. And the girls have my back. But my grades are terrible. Like… I feel dumb every minute I’m in class. Most of the other Dragons don’t get that; Blake does, but it’s easy for her to do all her homework in class. I’m not that quick on the uptake.”

“Yang… we could, um… study together, if you want. Pyrrha’s an even better tutor than me. You don’t have to give up just because you’re a brute.”

The gentle emphasis made Yang smile, and she kissed Weiss’s forehead. She had to hum from the contact; it was sweet, intimate. Caring. When was the last time anyone paid her that kind of attention?

“Thanks, Schnee. I’ll think about it.”

#Princess and The Dragons #rwby fanfiction #1950s AU #freezerburn fanfic #yang x weiss #rwbyremnants

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