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muse-oleum · 6 months

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Beloved (Part I)

“She was the only woman who saw all of him—the good, the bad and the ugly—and wanted all of it. From the moment she arrived in our village, everyone else never really stood a chance. Honestly, I don’t believe anyone ever will.” OR Rebekah tells Hayley the story of the first and only woman Elijah Mikaelson has ever truly loved, and why he can never love her the way she wants him to.

Elijah Mikaelson x Witch!OC/10th century AU/Unreliable Narrator (mostly Rebekah, though)

Find it on AO3: here.

(+ so many more tags and nerding it out in the notes :) come say hi)

Hayley was sulking again, listlessly watching the fire crackle back to life as Rebekah poked at it, the scent of firewood filling the air as the flames soared higher, licking up at the blackened bricks. With a sigh, the vampire sat back into the leather armchair closest to the fireplace, occasionally prodding the heavy iron grate closer to the hearth, as if keeping the crackling embers from escaping would somehow prevent the werewolf from asking her the question she knew she wanted to ask.

Rebekah sank deeper into the comforting depths of the armchair, eyeing her companion from above the rim of her glass. The scowl on Hayley’s face was enough to indicate just what had transpired between her big brother and the young werewolf.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” she said, taking a sip of… whatever it was Nik kept around the study.

Hayley looked up, frowning. There was a world of hurt in her eyes that Rebekah knew all too well. She’d seen it time and time again in face after face. All the women who fell for her brother inevitably ended up wearing a similar expression on their face when they finally understood that Elijah would never give himself to them completely.

Honestly, had he been anyone else, Rebekah would have accused him of having serious commitment issues.

But this was her brother. Loyal to a fault, fiercely protective of those he loved, dotting uncle to his little niece. And so, as much as she’d rather be just about anywhere else right now, it was both her duty and burden to explain the situation.

Especially to this particular woman, seeing as she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon and her remaining in the dark would only cause more problems in the future; both for her and for the entire family.

Rebekah sighed again, downing the rest of her drink.

“Just so you’re aware: Elijah would have my head for even broaching the subject with him, let alone with you, so if you rat me out, I’ll make Mikael look like the easter bunny.”

The corners of Hayley’s mouth twitched, threatening a smile—an all too rare occurrence these days. It dimmed almost immediately, the kind of pain only unrequited love could bring swimming in her eyes. The werewolf sighed, propping up her chin on her knees, returning her gaze to the fire.

“I just—” she closed her eyes, taking a breath and letting it out before trusting her voice again, “I thought we could be going somewhere, y’know?” She shrugged, tucking her fingers inside the sleeves of her sweater, “But he’s just so… remote. It’s like I can’t reach him, or something. Every time I try, he just… closes off.”

Rebekah poured herself another drink, taking a fortifying breath.

“He wasn’t always that way.” Seeing Hayley’s eyebrows shoot up all the way to her hairline, she scoffed. “A thousand years is a very long time, you know.” Tilting her head, she decided to rip the band aid off in one clean swipe. Better to have it over and done with as quickly as possible. “When we were human, Elijah fell in love with a woman named Svala. She was…” she took a long breath, echoes of agonized screams clawing at her mind, losing herself to old memories as she gazed down at her glass. Rebekah watched them swirl in the dark amber liquid, swallowing the lump in her throat when she realized she couldn’t quite remember her face, sharp features and laughing grey eyes tangling together in soft hues, pulling her back in time despite herself.

“She was his wife, and the love of his life.”

Present-day Virginia, c. 990 A.D.

It was just after Álfablót, during the month of Haustmánuður, that the boats arrived, narrowly escaping winter at sea. Ayana had already foretold their arrival and entire families had left the village to go greet their loved ones from the old countries. The village itself waited, the old and the young, and all those whose kin had not been onboard the boats. New homes had been built—as many as possible—and there were still logs of timber scattered around in expectation for more, covered by pine needles and leaves to keep most of the coming ice at bay.

Preparations for winter were well underway by the time the first travelers were spotted, able-bodied men and women carrying young children in their arms or on their backs, with the more travel-weary stragglers lagging behind. Only the more adventurous children seemed to have any energy left, gazing at the welcoming party with wide eyes, tugging at each other’s sleeves.

The head of the village had gone with them and there was a collective sigh of relief at his safe return. Some of the werewolves had gone too, eager to see new faces—and to warn them of what life with them would entail.

Not that it mattered. After such a long voyage, all would have been glad of a simple meal, the warmth of a fire and the comfort of family they had not seen in years.

Carrying her pack on her back, Svala looked up at the tall pine trees, so different from the wide oak trees of her home. She didn’t know what to make of them—she didn’t know what to make of any of it.

Her mother had convened with her Sisters, sensing the dangers in the new religion that had made its way to their homeland, swaying their people and changing their ways. She had come back with a haunted look, telling her to pack whatever it was she loved most, and that they were leaving. Svala had raged and raged, tears in her eyes, refusing to leave and digging her heels into the ground until her mother had all but dragged her onto the boat.

It was a great hulking beast, larger than the ships she had grown up around. It was meant for a sea voyage that would last weeks, where storms would rage and winds would blow, threatening to drown them into seas she had only ever heard about in stories. Her mother’s presence had calmed her, the hand on her shoulder heavy enough to pull her from her thoughts.

No völva would let her people drown.

It still hadn’t been enough to save her, though, and Yrsa Anundottir had died a week before they reached their destination, leaving her young daughter alone, cold, and scared in a new world she knew nothing about.

A young couple, Ulf and Asta, had taken Svala under their wing. Asta, like her mother, was a völva; and quite good at it too, though she dabbled more in incantations and less in the art of divination.

Svala had always been thankful her own powers had strayed more towards healing than the more arcane arts. She had never envied her mother’s power and, as she stood looking up at the trees in her new home, all she felt was hatred for it. Divination had brought her here, all alone, without her mother. She couldn’t help but suspect Yrsa had known all along she would not make it this far, and it only made her angrier.

A small boy tugging on her skirts distracted her from her thoughts, his wide smile and big brown eyes warming her despite the autumn winds whipping her hair around her face. She tucked an errant curl behind her ear and smiled back, waving at him. He smiled even wider and ran back to those she assumed must be his family. He tugged on the sleeve of one of the older men, whispering in his ear something that made him laugh.

He was handsome, with shoulder-length dark hair braided back from his face, revealing balanced features, most prominent of which sharp cheekbones and an even sharper jawline. She averted her eyes when she inadvertently met his own, the same warm brown as those of his… brother? Son? He was old enough that it could be both.

Svala felt the pressure of Asta’s hand at the small of her back, guiding her to a clearing where an open fire pit had been lit, casting a warm glow on the charred ground beneath it. The village leader, a well-built man called Harald whom she had grown to respect over the past few weeks, had opened the welcome feast, and she noticed that those whose families had left their homeland years ago had at long last been reunited. She smiled, dropping her pack against the trunk of a nearby tree, as she observed Ulf greet his brother Magnar, the two men embracing each other. Magnar then turned to Asta, opening his arms to her and welcoming her, and Svala felt a small twinge of jealousy.

It was petty, she knew, but she wished someone was there to greet her like that. But all she had was her small pack and the memory of her mother.

Averting her eyes to hide the sting of tears she refused to spill for a woman who had abandoned her, Svala turned back to her meagre belongings, rummaging in search of something a little warmer. Earlier this week, they’d stopped at a stream to wash and repair their clothes, and she had taken the opportunity to refresh her winter clothes, not knowing when she’d next have the chance.

Still, fall here seemed milder than at home, where the first snows had surely already fallen. She was hit by another wave of sadness and tied the strings of her pack with such vigor that she nearly snapped them, biting back tears when a small hand braced itself on the bark of the tree in front of her.

“Mother says you can leave your belongings at our home. It’s not wise to leave them about like that.”

It was the little boy from earlier, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, observing her with a far more intelligent gaze then she’d come to expect for a child his age. Their speech differed slightly from hers, but she understood him well enough, and she thought she could actually make out the slight inflections of her homeland.

“Why? Would someone steal it?”

He shook his head and bent towards her, mischief in his eyes. “No, but the landvaettir might take it and hide it inside an old tree and then we’d never see it again.”

Svala blinked, then laughed. The boy’s eyes lit up, and she had the sneaking suspicion he had been trying to cheer her up. It certainly had worked—it felt so very good to express joy again.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” She whispered conspiratorially, winking at him.

Elated, the little boy ran back towards his family, who had dispersed into the throng of people gathered in the clearing. She saw him gesture wildly to the same man as earlier, caught the amused smile on his face before he started to make his way towards her. She dropped her gaze back to her pack, tying it off with one final tug and hoisting it on her shoulders.

The man was tall; taller than she’d expected. He towered over her, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. Instead of making her feel caged in, it made her feel safer, an odd sensation tingling up her spine.

Svala finally dared to meet his eyes, finding them darker than his brother’s but full of the same earnestness. He inclined his head towards her, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. It made him appear younger, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. She smiled back tentatively, her lips stinging, chapped raw by the wind and the salt.

Before she had even taken one step, he took her pack from her, swinging it over his shoulder as if it weighed next to nothing. The little boy grabbed her hand, tugging her along to meet the rest of their family, babbling happily about how he would take her to see the clearing tomorrow, before all the leaves had fallen and Svala couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Perhaps we should let her decide for herself what she would like to do first, little brother?”

The boy stopped, eyeing her as he would a particularly complicated puzzle, a little storm gathering in his eyes, and she knew enough of children to recognize the beginnings of a tantrum.

“I’ll be happy to come with you to the clearing, little one,” Svala said, smiling at the glee in his eyes, “on one condition.” He looked on with rapt attention, his eyes widening. She smiled wider, “I will go, but only if you tell me your name.”

She heard the man beside her huff out a laugh. The boy snuck his tongue out at him, narrowly escaping a smack upside the head as he danced around them, avoiding his brother’s hand deftly. He reminded her of a wood sprite.

“This impolite little imp is Henrik,” his brother said, giving up and tugging his little brother into his side, ruffling his hair. He turned towards her, warm brown eyes mirthful.

“I’m Elijah.”

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

“And that’s how they met,” Rebekah sighed, getting up to refill her glass. It was a good thing she couldn’t get drunk easily; she had a feeling she would need that tolerance as the evening wore on. “Svala charmed Henrik as soon as she stepped foot inside our village and our little brother was the way to Elijah’s heart.” She took a small sip, fingers drumming on the table. “I honestly think it was instantaneous, at least on his part. I could tell he was smitten almost immediately.”

She sighed again, leaning back against the table. Hayley was silent, staring at her—although Rebekah was ready to bet the other woman wasn’t really seeing her at all. The Original suppressed another sigh. She disliked the idea of hurting her but it was unavoidable. Hayley was young, and on the cusp of love. She deserved to be pulled from the edge before she well and truly fell for her brother, a path which only ever led to heartbreak.

“Svala’s mother had died during the crossing,” Rebekah continued, seating down on the table, “and our own mother took pity on her, I suppose. I think she could also sense Svala’s powers, which were strong even for a völva, and—”

“You used that word before, but what does it mean?” Hayley asked, straightening up and tugging the fabric of her dress around her knees, visibly shaking herself from her thoughts.

“Völur—that’s the plural form—were witches (mostly), but also sometimes warlocks, who traveled the old countries, stopping here and there to dispense their services. Another term for a völva is seiðkona—wielder of seiðr, what you’d call magic.”

“So she was a witch?”

Rebekah hummed, taking another sip. “Yes, but also something more. You see, modern-day witches seem to have largely lost their powers of divination. At least the ones I’ve met.” She shrugged. “Kol’s been to the East, I’m sure he would tell you more about ancient magical powers, if he could.” Rebekah cleared her throat, pushing away thoughts of her brother. “But in any case, a seiðkona could, under the right circumstances, predict the future with reasonable accuracy.” She paused, eyeing the werewolf. “Svala was one such witch, although we didn’t discover that until much later.”

Hayley nodded pensively. “So your family took her in?”

“Early on, yes. She stayed with us for a while, helping our mother and myself with household chores—don’t give me that look, it was like that, back then—and we grew close.” Rebekah swallowed the lump in her throat as the memories came rushing back. “I always had wanted a sister.”

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

“I do believe my brother fancies you,” Rebekah said as they crouched near the frozen stream, their fingers red and stinging from the cold.

“Which one? You have many,” her friend answered with an impish grin.

“Oh, stop it! You know which one!”

“Why, Rebekah,” Svala stood, batting her eyelashes innocently in her best impression of Tatia, the woman who hung on Elijah’s and Nik’s every word, “I had no idea Henrik saw me in such a way.”

That earned her a handful of freezing water to the face. Shrieking, she kicked fallen leaves at Rebekah in retaliation.

The beautiful blonde, the only sister in a large brood of brothers, had been Svala’s salvation these past few months. They were around the same age, with Svala only a few years older than Rebekah, and of vastly different temperaments. That did nothing to stop the budding friendship between them as Rebekah helped Svala navigate life in her new environment, introducing her to their neighbors and helping her to make friends. In return, Svala had taken to helping the younger woman with her chores, lending a hand where she was needed.

Esther, too, had been glad of the help, saying jokingly that she wasn’t getting any younger, and thus welcoming Svala with open arms. She suspected that the older witch would have wanted more daughters. Together with Asta and Ayana, Esther had also taken to perfecting the young witch’s understanding of seiðr, the trio easily stepping into her mother’s shoes. Of the three, Svala was most at ease with Asta, given that they shared a common past—or as common as anyone around here, anyway. Ayana scared her a little, but she rather thought her mother and her would have been fast friends. As for Esther, she remained undecided.

She was grateful to the older woman—more than grateful, really—but there was still something about her that Svala couldn’t quite shake. She wondered distractedly if she should be worried that her mother’s power had managed to make its way to her, and what it was trying to tell her if it had.

“You know perfectly well which of my brothers I was referring to.”

She did.

Elijah was still somewhat of a mystery to her. A man of few words, the only signs of his partiality came in other forms. He would help her with the more physical tasks, such as carrying buckets filled with water and snow for washing and cooking. Or he would help her skin and tan the hide of the animals the men caught on their hunts, fashioning coats and pouches from the leather. He had introduced her to his friend, the smithy, a tall, muscular man named Leif, who showed her how he made the arrowheads and knives used for hunting.

These people did not raid, although, far from the sea as they were, she supposed it wasn’t all that unusual. They appeared to trade with some neighboring settlements, although most of these were nomadic in nature. The only other village near them was the one led by the werewolves—a people Svala had only heard her mother speak about very infrequently. There were some clans in the old country, but they lived far from towns and villages in self-inflicted exile.

This was not the case here, where the two villages cohabited peacefully. There was, however, an undeniable current of fear around the full moon, when those not afflicted by the Curse would withdraw to the cave systems underneath their village, magical boundaries and wards in place, to wait out the moon. She supposed she understood the high status that Ayana and Esther seemed to enjoy. When faced with fangs and claws, seiðr was an attractive defense.

She was pulled from her musings by the feeling of a strong hand on her arm. Elijah swooped in and took the heavy bucket from her, barely straining under its weight. He gave her a gentle smile and fell into step alongside her. Rebekah, the little minx, winked at her—in full view of her brother!—and escaped up the path, grumbling about how she too could use someone to help her with her own burden. As if summoned, Nik appeared at her side, easily bracing against its weight. Svala huffed a laugh when he threw her a long suffering look over his shoulder.

“Your brother seems to never be too far from your sister,” she told Elijah quietly, laughter brightening her dark eyes.

Those eyes of hers, the color of dark stormy skies, had been an object of fascination to him ever since he had met her. They seemed almost alive, wisps of grey and brown and blue all interweaving together, one peeking through more than the others depending on the weather.

Of course, her eyes were not the only beautiful thing about her. It seemed to him that the gods had crafted this woman solely to plague his dreams. She filled his mind so completely, he had began to wonder about his sanity. On one occasion, he had heard her sing quietly to herself as she gathered wood for the fire, her long brown hair tumbling down her back, framing her petite frame and highlighting the curves of her body; and Elijah had almost believed he’d been taken in by a forest spirit.

But such stories were the ones he told his youngest brother on nights he could not sleep, and he knew better.

He did not know what love felt like; at least, not that kind of love. He knew the deep devotion he felt towards his siblings, and the lust for a warm, soft, body; but this was uncharted territory. Every time Svala was near, Elijah lost the ability to speak, unable to string more than two sentences together for fear of appearing an utter fool. His silence did not seem to bother her, so he took it as encouragement to remain just as he was, comfortable with admiring from afar.

Which was exactly what he was doing right now. Svala was eyeing him curiously, no doubt wondering what was taking him so long. Little did she know (he very much hoped) that all he wanted to do was kiss her to find out whether her lips were as soft as they appeared.

“Rebekah and Niklaus have always been very close,” he answered slowly, returning his gaze to his siblings in front of them, “it used to make Henrik quite jealous.”

“Is that why he’s so attached to you?”

Elijah chuckled. “No, Henrik is rather fickle in his affections. One week, he won’t leave me alone, the next, he’ll be glued to Kol’s side.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping a few octaves. “Although I think that’s mainly so he can learn new tricks and cause more trouble.”

Svala laughed. “Yes, he’s rather good at finding trouble.”

“Oh, I’m sure he would say trouble finds him.”

“An answer only a troublemaker would know to give,” she said, nodding sagely.

They had reached the village, passing through a denser copse of old trees, the scent of pine needles overwhelming. It was one Svala had taken time to get used to, but now that she had, it filled her with a strange sort of warmth. She wasn’t sure if she could call that feeling “belonging”, but it certainly felt close to it.

Between Rebekah’s freely given friendship, Henrik’s childlike love and Elijah’s quiet company, she had began to ease into this new life her mother had thrown her into. She still missed her home, and the wide, tall oak trees behind her homestead, but the ache was cooling, little by little.

Of the Mikealsons, only Finn and Kol remained a little aloof. The former because it was simply his personality and the latter, she suspected, was a little shy about talking to a völva. Svala wanted to tell him he had nothing to worry about: she couldn’t predict his future even if she tried, and she had no desire to do so. The topic hadn’t even been discussed by any of her three teachers yet, although she knew Asta, at least, had some knowledge of the divination arts. Ayana and Esther seemed to think it was best left alone and Svala would tend to agree, given where her own mother’s gift had led her.

Then again, she thought, chancing a glance at the man beside her to find him looking back at her with a small smile on his lips, perhaps that was not an entirely bad thing.

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

“They kept dancing each other for weeks,” Rebekah said, shaking her head fondly in an effort to drive away memories of her friend. “It drove Nik and I absolutely mad.”

The Original sighed, raking a hand through her blonde curls to briefly massage the back of her neck. Sitting still for so long rarely took a toll on her body anymore—she was, quite simply, too old to care—but she suspected the current topic of discussion drained her more than she’d like to admit.

Talking about Svala was forbidden. Everybody in the family knew it, and even Nik never ever dared to speak her name when Elijah was within earshot. Her death had been a blow their older brother had never recovered from and even now, nearly a millennium after he’d buried her, she would still catch him bracing himself against some pain she couldn’t see and she knew he was thinking of her.

“Their courtship was long, by our standards,” she continued, turning her back to Hayley as she refilled her glass for the umpteenth time that evening, “but that’s Elijah for you.”

“Why do you say that?” Hayley asked. “He’s always seemed like a man who makes up his mind quickly to me.”

Rebekah hummed into her glass. “Oh, his mind was made up, believe me. He was going to marry her, none of us—least of all him, at least at the unconscious level—had any doubts about that.” She turned back to her companion. “But you forget about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Eyeing her friend, the vampire sighed, looking down at her glass. “Our father.” She took a deep breath, hating that even now the man had such a hold on her as to make her afraid of speaking his name. “Mikael wasn’t a kind man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” she said drily, smiling slightly at the werewolf’s quiet snort, “and he wasn’t then either. I think Elijah was afraid to bring Svala into a family with such a man at the head of it.”

Rebekah sat back into her original seat, bringing her forearms to rest on her thighs, rolling her glass between her hands. “Perhaps he was right to be worried, considering everything that happened.”

“Did Mikael hurt her?”

The Original chuckled bitterly. “Who didn’t he hurt? He hurt Nik, most of all, but he took it out on others too. Our mother never moved against him,” she bit out angrily, “and even back then, I didn’t understand why. He was strong, but she was a witch, so what was she afraid of?” She huffed. “Obviously, now, I know she was scared her little secret would come to light.”

Hayley nodded, shifting in her seat. “Klaus’ real father?”

“The leader of the neighboring village,” Rebekah answered, noting the disbelieving look the other woman shot her. “Yes, rather stupid of both of them really, but oh well.” She shook her head, willing herself to get back on track. “But no, Mikael never laid a hand on Svala. Elijah would probably not have stopped me from trying to kill him if he had.”

Hayley’s eyes grew wide. “You tried to kill your dad?”

Rebekah nodded darkly. “And I wish to god Elijah had let me finish the job.”

“That’s wild.”

“Welcome to the family, love.” Rebekah gulped down the rest of her drink, thinking that she might just have to slow down if she was going to survive waking up tomorrow. “Anyway, after a few months of tentative smiles and furtive glances, Elijah finally made the first move, to our family’s collective relief."

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Midsommerblót was fast approaching and with it, the height of the summer months. Offerings for the landvaettirs had been prepared, crops stood tall or sprawled over and under the soil, birds were chirping in the tall trees and it seemed every living thing was bustling in preparation for the harvest months.

Svala herself had not been idle since the arrival of spring. With help from Elijah and Nik, as well as Leif and Ulf, she had moved into her own cottage, not too far from the Mikaelsons. It was small, but sturdy, the last of the new homes built for the newcomers.

She would miss Rebekah’s constant companionship and the easy routine she had fallen into amongst the family, but she was glad to have a space to herself. She’d never really had that before. The home she had shared with her mother was smaller than her new one, even if her youth had been spent mostly following her mother in her travels.

Besides, given the current climate in the Mikaelson home, Svala had no doubt Rebekah would end up sleeping here more often than not in the upcoming months, personal space be damned. Mikael had been in an even fouler mood than usual, and she had been glad to escape. Svala knew her friend well enough by now to know that her new home was about to become Rebekah’s new home too.

Unless her brother beat her to it.

The distance between Elijah and her was long gone, replaced by open smiles and slower touches; the kind that lingered a little too long and left her a little too breathless. As the summer solstice approached and Midsommer drew nearer, she’d began to feel the telltale pull of desire more forcefully every time he stood next to her. It grew so strong at times that she worried the others would feel it, like the current pushing her towards him. She was entirely powerless to resist it but felt no need to battle it, if only they could find themselves alone.

But, as things would have it, between moving into her new home and preparing for the festival—as well as her daily chores and Henrik’s and Rebekah’s constant demand for her attention—she had barely had any time to herself. Let alone with Elijah.

And yet, the infuriating man wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

Svala shook her head ruefully, spotting Nik down the path.

Gathering wildflowers was a task she and Nik enjoyed doing together. He always kept some tucked away for Tatia, she knew, and he’d give them to her tonight, at the feast. The others were for Rebekah, who’d just turned sixteen last week, a true child of summer.

Together, they kept an eye on Henrik, who amused himself by crafting what flowers they brought him into crowns and bouquets. Svala had a sneaking suspicion one of these was for her, but she wouldn’t ruin his joy at giving it to her tonight.

“So, has my brother finally kissed you?” Nik asked her out of the blue, just as they settled into the routine of their task.

She sputtered, her cheeks glowing red, and he had the audacity to laugh at her.

“Nik!”

“Svala!”

Speechless, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open, she rather reminded him of a fish before she burst into a fit of laughter.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he said shrewdly.

Looking down at the handful of flowers in her basket, Svala pondered how best to answer him, when she felt a hand settle on her shoulder. She looked up, momentarily confused by his sudden change in attitude. Gone was the impish grin, instead, he looked very serious.

“My brother is often too noble for his own good,” he said, somewhat cryptically (and here she thought Esther was the only one with a penchant for the mysterious), “and has a tendency to let that get in the way of his happiness.” He paused, blue eyes studying her. “But he’s in love with you, of that I have no doubt, and if he lets you go because of our father, I will personally make him regret it.”

Svala smiled back tentatively, before her brain catches up. “Your father? Why? Is he… opposed to me?” She couldn’t fathom what it was she’s done to incur the man’s disapproval.

She didn’t say that she was also secretly scared of not being good enough for Elijah.

Nik shook his head, bending to pick some more flowers. “No, as a rule, I don’t believe he is but he’s a difficult man…” he hesitated, debating whether or not to share something else with her, before sighing, lowering his eyes to the ground. “He’s… violent. And unforgiving of weakness. He views love as such, and has already told Elijah off multiple times for spending too much time around you. Not that it stopped him.” He shrugged, “I think Elijah is worried about you joining our family because of how Father is.”

Svala blushed at the mention of her ‘joining’ the family.

It’s not that the thought hadn’t entered her mind since she’d met Elijah, but völvas rarely married or had children. Asta and her mother were exceptions. And Svala herself had never met her father. All her mother would tell her was that he was a good man, a Dane, powerful, and that was that. She didn’t even know his name and probably never would.

Not that it mattered now. She was an ocean away.

“Is he that bad?” she asked quietly, redirecting her thoughts to the present. She knew Mikael was a hard man, but all of the men she’s met before, save for Elijah and his brothers, were—in one way or another—hard men as well. And yet, everyone seemed to tiptoe around the Mikaelson patriarch as if he was Hel* come to drag them all down to her realm.

Nik sighed, about to speak, but suddenly froze, catching sight of something she couldn’t see. Turning around, she saw Mikael looking at them, face unreadable but eyes like thunder. He truly did look like a Viking: cold and hard, like the ice. Svala wondered if it didn’t run in his veins. Nik sighed dejectedly next to her, no doubt expecting a humiliating tongue-lashing once they got back to the village.

No, Mikael did not seem like the type of man who would be pleased to see a son of his picking flowers with a woman.

She held the man’s gaze, daring him to come forward. She may not be her mother, but she could hold her own if he tried anything. She didn’t miss the way Nik tensed as his father’s gaze shifts to her. Svala was half tempted to send a little jolt of magic through the man, but stopped herself when Nik’s hand slid into hers. Glancing at him, she took her eyes off Mikael and in the time it took for him to glance back, his father was already gone past the tree line.

“Please don’t provoke him,” he begged softly, his eyes a little frantic, “Elijah would never forgive himself if Father did something to you.”

Svala stared at him, dumbfounded. Would he dare?

Nik seemed to understand exactly what she was asking, and shook his head. She relaxed slightly, until her friend sighed again, rubbing his neck. The motion dislodged the fabric of his tunic, pushing it aside. Horrified, Svala got a glimpse of what looked like the healed marks of a lashing, scarring the flesh across his upper back. She stopped herself from rushing forward, unsure whether he meant for her to see the evidence of his father’s abuse or not.

Nik might not share his father’s disdain for weakness but that did not mean he would welcome her pity.

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

“After that, when she wasn’t with Elijah, Svala rarely left Nik’s side,” Rebekah whispered, staring into the fire as if she could will her friend back to life. “I don’t think she ever told either of them she’d seen his wounds, but she told me.”

Together, the two women had tried to shield her brother from Mikael’s wrath as much as possible. But neither had been able to stop her parents from doing the unthinkable: binding his brother’s wolf form, denying him all ties to the man he would have been better off being raised by.

Standing up, the Original stoked the fire, watching as the flames soar higher, losing herself to memories of another fire, in another place, a thousand years ago.

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

A little off to the side, Svala watched as people danced around the bonfire that stood proudly at the center of the clearing she had arrived in only months prior. It was the biggest fire she’d ever seen, stacks and stacks of wood burning high into the night. Gathered around the clearing were the elders, amongst them Ayana and Esther, who looked on fondly as the young danced.

There was one more house on the far left side to where Svala stood and the ground was now littered with old pine needles and wildflowers. She could hardly believe it had almost been a year since her arrival in the village. So much had changed since then: the harsh bite of the cold winds was a distant memory, her loneliness was gone, and she hadn’t missed the sea for a few weeks now. There were still times were homesickness would find her, creeping into her heart when she least expected it, but those were growing few and far between.

The man largely responsible for such a change stood on the other side of the clearing, Rebekah by his side, her hair braided prettily in the style Svala knew she liked. Kol and Nik were arguing with each other, but judging by the fondly exasperated expression on Elijah’s face, it wasn’t anything she needed to worry about.

Her own hair was swept back from her temples in two braids, barely strong enough to contain the rest of her mane as it swept down her back. Svala rarely wore it down, preferring the tightly braided style some of the shieldmaidens had worn back home. It was practical, but Midsommer was not about being practical. It was about revelry and fun, partaking in the joys of summer and enjoying the fruits of a year’s worth of hard work.

She’d even worn her best dress, the one her mother had sewn for her back home, during one of those cold winter nights that felt like a lifetime ago. Yrsa had always been partial to green, for herself, as it highlighted her red hair, but red had always been Svala’s color, bringing out the color of her eyes and the warmer tones in her hair. But the pigments for red dye were expensive, even when supplemented with wild berries, and so this dress had only ever been meant to be worn on special occasions. Svala thought her first Midsommerblót in her new home was a rather good time to try it on.

She giggled when Henrik ran up to her, tugging Rebekah with him, and dragged them both to the center of the clearing, where the warmth of the fire was almost unbearable, to dance. The little boy spun around them in a circle, tugging at their skirts until Svala caught him, tickling him mercilessly. He shrieked with laughter, trying to escape her and drawing the attention of his older brothers. Absorbed as she was by her revenge, Svala completely missed the look of complete adoration that overtook Elijah’s face, but Rebekah certainly did not.

She hoped someone would look at her like that too, one day.

Bending down to swoop her little brother up into her arms, Rebekah tugged at Svala’s hand, drawing the older girl into the wide circles of the dance, turning around each other in turn as Henrik clung to her, tucked between them. Laughing, Svala came to a stop, her cheeks red from exertion, and disappeared briefly, coming back with two cups of ale. The beverage was more than welcome, a relief against the heat. Henrik clamored for a sip and Svala had all the trouble in the world keeping him off, her eyes widening playfully as she downed the rest of her cup, taunting him.

“That’s not fair!” Henrik whined, kicking his little legs, “I wanted some too!”

“Not just yet, little one” Svala said, swooping him up to let Rebekah enjoy her own drink in peace, “but there’s some very tasty berry juice over there.”

The bribe worked, as it always did on children. Pacified, Henrik allowed himself to be led to the large oak tables, bending under the weight of the harvest. While Svala poured him a cup of fresh juice, Rebekah saw her older brother approach and, in a moment of uncharacteristic generosity of spirit, whisked Henrik away from the couple the first chance she got.

Passing by Elijah, Henrik nearly thwarted her plan when he reached for him. Knowing her brother was powerless to refuse him, Rebekah twirled around on herself, laughing and drawing a giggle from the child, effectively distracting him from their older brother’s presence. She made her way to another table, sitting herself and Henrik down to let him pilfer the entire platter of wild berries, stuffing them into his mouth as fast as a squirrel, his eyes growing bigger by the second as he looked at the sudden influx of people dancing around the bonfire.

It seemed like the entire village had collectively decided to join in, couples dancing together and wider circles of people skipping together hand in hand, their chants joining the music, growing louder and louder. Had she not been familiar with Midsommer and its merrymaking, Svala would have thought herself addled by the ale. Eyeing her cup, she shrugged and took another drink, closing her eyes.

The thing she liked the most about Midsommerblót was the music and dancing. Everyone was happy, indulging in the warmth of the summer months, enjoying the fact that it would last for some more still before the return of the cold.

Autumns here were less colorful than in the old country. The pines did not shed their leaves and so they never turned into the bright yellows, oranges and reds Svala had known all her life, but the evergreens held a certain beauty to them. It was mostly noticeable in the winter, when everything else was dead and still, they held on.

The one tree she always found herself drawn to, no matter the season, was the one standing tall behind the fire, its branches sweeping over the clearing, full of the green of summer.

The villagers called it “white oak”, for the light finish of its wood when harvested, and it was magnificent. Svala thought it must have been the oldest tree here, allowed to grow into itself as the clearing was cleared of other trees some centuries ago. In the fall, its leaves turned as bright as the trees of her old home, and she never felt homesick in its presence.

Lost in thought, she jumped slightly when she felt the press of a strong hand at her back, relaxing almost immediately when a deep chuckle sounded from just behind her.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you.”

She turned her head to the side, watching under thick lashes as Elijah’s profile came into view, his high cheekbones highlighted by the glow of the fire. Where they were standing, by the tables, its warmth was more distant, but the shiver that tingled down her spine had nothing to do with the chill. She felt the weight of his hand where it still was, pressed into her back, between her shoulder blades.

His eyes turned to her, taking her in.

Svala had always been beautiful, but tonight, in her red dress, her cheeks warmed by more than just drink, she was even more so. Her grey eyes sparkled when she looked up at him, shimmering in the low light. They were tender, excruciatingly so, wide and open. He felt like he could lose himself to her and it would still feel like home.

She caught her breath, noticing the way his hand slipped lower, pulling her closer until her back rested against his chest. She could still hear the music, but the sound was drowned out by the feeling of his hand caressing down her back, settling on her waist. She was pulled more firmly against him, a possessive touch to the way his fingers dug into her side.

Slowly, Svala finished her drink, setting it down on the table beside her. Seeing that everyone else’s attention was taken up by the feast, she allowed herself to rest against Elijah’s chest, his warmth a comforting presence against her back. Her head came to rest just above his heart. If she focused hard enough, she could feel its beat against her ear. It was steady; as steady as the man it belonged to, and she knew, in that moment, that she was the one who held it.

She felt his chin touch her hair, in a kiss or just resting there, she wasn’t sure. She simply savored the moment—the first one they’d shared since he had helped her down from the newly finished roof her house, preventing her from falling and catching her in his arms.

His arm snaked around her, ensnaring her, his finger splayed on her hip, close to where their bodies touched. She felt that pull again, the same one she always felt when he was near, begging her to bring him closer still, until it felt like she was going to meld herself to him.

Turning in his grasp, Svala brought their joined hands to her lips, kissing his knuckles. Elijah’s breath hitched above her and when she looked up, all she saw before his lips claimed hers was the devotion shining in his eyes.

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

“I was looking right at them,” Rebekah said, the mischievous look only a younger sibling could have written all over her face. “I never told Svala, but I couldn’t resist telling Elijah. I never saw him blush harder.” She laughed, shaking her head fondly. “Mostly, we were relieved he’d finally done it; their little courtship was exhausting to watch, honestly.”

The Original looked back at Hayley, eyeing the werewolf. She was calmer, now, less jittery, and more focused on Rebekah. She honestly was’t sure if it was because of her stellar storytelling, or because the other woman was desperate for any morsel of anything related to Elijah. She couldn’t fault her for that; she knew her brother was a hard man to forget, even when it was for the best.

She heard the telltale whoosh of another vampiric presence even before Hayley did, hybrid senses and all.

“I do believe your squeal managed to gather everybody’s attention, sister mine.”

Rolling her eyes, Rebekah looked over at her tyrant of an older brother, busy pouring himself a drink, and nearly snorted at the way Hayley’s own eyes rolled almost all the way back into her skull.

“Thankfully, by this point, everyone was too far gone to see what was really going on,” Klaus said, the twinkle in his eye almost fond as he looked back at her, “but, alas, I wasn’t.”

“Oh yes, because you were never one to indulge.”

Her annoying twat of a brother eyed the drink in her hand meaningfully—her sixth of the evening, she believed. Rebekah shrugged, and he softened. Of all of them, herself and Elijah excepted, Nik had been closest with Svala. She didn’t think her brother would have joined in on their conversation willingly—in fact, she rather thought he would have ran from it.

He did love to surprise her.

“You see, Little Wolf,” he said, the moniker falling easily from his lips, “our brother as he is today, noble to a fault and—if you squint—nearly caring, is revolting enough, but Elijah back then…” he shivered, “now that was positively nauseating.”

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

Elijah’s hand cushioned the back of her head against the wood behind her, his grasp there gentle even as his mouth did sinful things to hers, gliding against her lips, teasing her. He’d backed her against the side of house, away from the gathering, when neither of them had been able to contain themselves anymore.

As soon as they had been in relative privacy, Elijah had crusher her to him, framing her face with his much larger hands and kissed her with an urgency Svala had not thought him capable of.

She could not have been more wrong.

His hands were all over her, sweeping over her stomach up to her breasts, and all the way into her hair, tangling in the long strands, bringing her face closer still, his kiss growing more desperate. All it had taken was for her to arch into him, drawing the length of her body against his, for him to press her against the wooden wall, a low moan escaping him.

The tether between them was vibrating, the need to possess and be possessed urging them closer until all they could feel was each other. Her brows furrowed and Svala made a small sound of protest when Elijah pulled away, his breathing ragged against the side of her face. She felt the weight of his hips against hers, the evidence of his desire pressing deliciously on her stomach.

Feeling bold, she let her hands wonder, sweeping over his lean hips and around to pull him towards her, arching into him when he let out another low sound of pleasure. He settled into her embrace, letting her caress up and down his back, the touch more calming than it was meant to arouse and yet managing both at the same time.

She was so small, compared to him, he felt like he could pull her into his arms and no one would ever be able to harm her.

Svala nibbled at his jaw, letting her head fall back to allow him to press slow kisses all along her neck. Breathing in her scent, Elijah let himself fall deeper into her arms, resting most of his much larger weight against her, but she never made a single sound of protest.

They were both breathing more calmly now, letting the heat of their bodies cool before he did something unforgivable and made love to her for the first time right up against her house. Elijah would not let himself go enough to allow for anything else than absolute perfection whenever they did decide on sharing this moment together.

Kissing her collarbone one last time, it took all of his willpower to pull away from her. Svala allowed it, dropping her arms from around his neck until they rested against his sides. He smirked when he realized that she was just as unwilling to part from him completely.

Elijah let himself feel up her body once more, lingering on her soft breasts until he heard her breathing speed up again, and he knew that if she kissed him again, he would forget his resolve and drop to his knees in front of her, hide under her dress and make her forget any other name but his.

The thought alone was the sweetest torture.

For now, he felt contented enough to breath in her scent, pine needles and smoke mixed with the flowers she’d picked this morning, his thoughts turned to a future they would share together.

#the originals #elijah mikaelson #the vampire diaries #tvd #tvdu #elijah mikaelson fanfic #elijah mikaelson x oc #elijah mikaelson x female oc #original female character #vikings #10th century AU #the originals AU #tvd AU #(i guess?)#unreliable narrator

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the-apprentice-lia · 10 months

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i just watched hunger games 1 after rereading the books and i have some… thoughts.

so everyone goes on about how the movies are so inaccurate to the books, but (and i say this as an avid bookworm) i don’t think they really are. the biggest inaccuracies i noted were as follows:

a) rue and katniss don’t talk about their different districts — however, i do think this wasn’t terrible as they had to amend the plot at several points since we didn’t have katniss as a narrator, like when caesar explains what tracker jackers are.

b) the one that stood out the most to me: the mutts are just… dogs. not tributes, children, that have had their eyes gouged out and their bodies twisted and warped to be another pawn for the games, even in death. children whose families, to our knowledge, do not even receive their babies’ bodies. and this was such a big detail to overlook since this is precisely the reason katniss is so horrified, and precisely the reason the brutality of the games is made so clear to us, the viewers: because these children will always be nothing but pieces on a game board to the people in power. things to be used, warped, destroyed, and then discarded. because when katniss looks into glimmer’s (or her mutt’s) eyes, it finally hits her how insignificant the capitol views the tributes. how even when you’re winning, there’s something to be used against you. she even sees rue, the girl she saved, the little twelve year old she buried, rabid and frothing at the mouth with hate. and this is when she sees, in perfect clarity, the grotesquerie of the games.

c) key details were omitted, like when haymitch fell off the stage, when madge gave katniss the pin, when peeta threw haymitch’s glass against the wall in the train car, how katniss threw peeta into the vase after the interviews and peeta’s hands were lacerated, how the soup from the parachute was actually broth and not the infamous lamb soup with plums that katniss loves (and subsequently, the ice-breaker in caesar’s interview being different), and of course, the infamous black buttercup. i mean, all in all, these were quite annoying— but not to the point where they changed the main message of the movie: the corrupting nature of power and how this breeds cruelty and uncompassion for human life. i think they stayed true to this, and that’s why i believe the films are a worthy tribute to the books!

furthermore, to compensate for the loss of katniss’ inner narrative spelling out key details for us in the books, the film does actually come up with pretty clever ways to work around this. like, as previously mentioned, when caesar explains on live television, to a capitol audience, what tracker jackers are and why they’re so deadly, which is key to the scene where katniss cuts the nest down. or, when the parachutes come with little notes; since we can’t see katniss putting together that a good kiss = a reward, we are actually told by the note in the soup parachute. “you call that a kiss, sweetheart?” we also have further insight into seneca crane’s death, which is so breathtakingly poetic, and symbolic, in my opinion. well, at least as poetic as a death can be. in addition, even though the books do mention it, we see in real time how haymitch flatters and strokes and fights for sponsors for katniss and peeta. this is so significant, as a man who has been forced to mentor years and years of tributes, to watch them die over and over again, and to gradually lose all hope that they’ll survive— this man is the one that is fighting so hard for katniss and peeta. we can see that better in the film. so the inconsistencies, in my opinion, can be overlooked as we will never truly have a film that is 100% loyal to the books. (unless it’s lord of the rings but shhh)

but what really sealed it home for me was something that the books actually didn’t do: we have the sense as viewers, a lot of the time, that we are intruding upon a profoundly personal moment. like with katniss and peeta in the cave. but that’s exactly what the film is trying to drive home. and that’s what makes it so fantastic. because we are intruding. we shouldn’t be watching such a deeply personal and vulnerable moment for katniss, who never shows her feelings if she can’t help it, and peeta, who shows his like an open book. it’s wrong on both accounts because in addition to these children being forced to fight brutally and bloodily to the death, they have to put on a pantomime as they do! i mean, what could be more unjust than a girl who’s being put to death being forced to give everyone a show on the way out? when the camera is just a bit too close, when there is no soothing filler music, when we can see them, raw and real, two kids afraid to die in an unfamiliar forest far away from their home, we feel uncomfortable. because why should we get to see this? how can this be fair? surely, they can have just this one thing. but that’s the whole point. they can’t. and we— watching from the same perspective as the capitol audience, i would like to emphasise— feel complicit in robbing these two kids of a brief moment of respite. that is what the film tries, and succeeds brilliantly, to convey.

i’m sure there’s still more to cover, but this is just what i noticed and felt the need to write about from my first time watching ‘the hunger games’. in conclusion: the film was actually fantastic if you don’t nitpick the small details. i think it’s a raw and real and fantastic tribute to the books, and should be treated as such.

#the hunger games #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #thg haymitch #katniss and haymitch #film #books #book vs film #the hunger games movie #movies #movie #think of this as kind of like my little writer’s version of lavendertowne’s ‘by the book’#by the book #female writers #lia rants #or more like lia writes frantic essays at 1am

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kamiversee · 6 months

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i woke up with puffy eyes and a headache. what the fuck kami

i’m really picky when it comes to angst. in scenes like this, a lot of writers tend to have the leading character completely crumble so that the love interest—who is often the one that was initially hurt by the situation—has to be the one to swallow their pride and comfort the lead which would eventually lead to forgiveness. it’s a good trope when done right, but even then i feel like it’s a very tired trope.

you didn’t do that. you were able to portray mutual vulnerability while maintaining the headstrong and caring personality of the reader. we’re able to see again how the reader is self-sacrificial before all else, and it shows growth that can justify a possible redemption. the reader is a victim throughout this entire plotline, but we continuously to see that despite how aspects of her soured she still has the capability to be sweet and compassionate. so well done.

oh my god dude the way Choso has completely broken down made me lose it. the poor boy is so overwhelmed. i seriously appreciated the slight shift in narration style to Choso’s POV of the entire event. throughout the entire fic, the narrator would often speak in ways that gave more perspective to the reader’s mind. the switch to give more of Choso’s perspective while connecting the dots to the reader’s thoughts and experiences was so, so necessary. i can’t immediately recall if we had big shifts of narration like this earlier on (at least for a large passage), but it really stood out in this chapter so we could sympathize with Choso further. if there are still people saying that Choso’s a bigger red flag character for the reader because of his possessiveness after this then i seriously don’t know what it will take. my poor boy, he’s so confused and hurt. it’s too much to explain at the moment and he wishes he could just lay it out in a way that more accurately recalls his experiences rather than the way he was barely able to shout out bits and pieces of all the info in the café, but doing so just hurts too much and he could barely speak to the reader with the way things went. UGH.

the crying scene in the rain where Choso clung to the reader made me think back to Gojo’s breakdown in chapter 30. the reader is the only thing that’s able to anchor them to reality at their worst moments, despite these major breakdowns happening because of her. the circumstances are different, but the devestation is almost the same. they’re both so scared at the fact that there are circumstances that could mean completely losing the reader and it’s mostly out of their control. how could they not break down after that?

regarding the narration in the Choso POV passage, the part when you say, “He couldn’t believe you. Especially after you wouldn’t even tell him about the clear list of other guys you’ve been with? That’s all precisely why he says he felt as though he should know who else you’d been with.” KAMI. ARE YOU SUGGESTING WHAT I THINK YOU’RE SUGGESTING??? the narration giving more light to Choso’s POV but adding some of the reader’s thoughts into it was so genius because when i read this, i was like “holy shit, he knows. he just doesn’t know who’s on the list.” THAT BROKE ME ON A DIFFERENT LEVEL. KAMI, YOU DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT, RIGHT???? KAMI????? 😭😭😭😭 especially at the end when you mentioned that the “details” of the list are going to be revealed, and not just the list in general has me overthinking. holy fuck.

i love that despite everything that happened, Choso still loves the reader enough to try to shield her from the rain so she doesn’t get sick. MY FUCKING HEART HURTS. the way he needs to get full reassurance that the worst man he knows didn’t harm one of the most precious people he has in his life just makes me ache. i was tearing up during the whole chapter, but that completely wrecked me. the consistent theme of him hating liars which was first introduced to us in chapter 12 is finally about to bite the reader in the ass if she doesn’t take this opportunity to tell him. GIRL IF YOU DON’T TELL HIM???? I’M SLEEPING ON THE HIGHWAY.

oh my god kami. i’m still broken from this. these were just my immediate thoughts after my read last night 😭i’ll probably find more to ask about during my reread, sorry in advance. but until then i’m mourning the person i was before this chapter. kami wtf.

-☃️

Yappy sessionnn!!

1. Ahh tysmm, I’m happy I was able to make Choso & the reader’s interaction stand out in comparison to other’s who write that troupe.

Going off that, I want to also point out how I say Gojo —> the reader —> Choso. Given that, I want some of y’all to rlly consider what that means seeing as Gojo claims him and the reader are the same so, what does that mean for Choso and the reader?

2. & yeah, I’ve narrated like this before just not in this fic i think? I have another change of pov coming in one of the next few chapters so yeah I’m glad you enjoyed that ^.^

Also, because Choso isn’t the best with voicing emotions, that’s the reasoning behind why a change of narration was needed. With Gojo’s breakdown, he vocalized most of what he was feeling while still leaving the reader confused. Choso is more of the type to need the story to shift to what he was going through

Again, I just changed the narroration so that Choso could be more understood especially for the gojo girlies😒

3. And yes, for deferent reasons ofc, the reader is the only thing that keeps both men grounded at the end of the day. As of rn, only Choso’s reasoning for this is clarified whereas Gojo’s reason is unknown outside of the fact that he loves her & is obsessed with her.

4. Am I suggesting what you think I’m suggesting?😹 Who knows?😹😹

5. Yup, no matter what, we notice that Choso still puts the reader above himself in a way. Given his backstory and how he did the same for his younger brothers, this is something that’s simply apart of his character and actually makes him similar to Gojo in a way

A while back, I think, Gojo told the reader that if she was ever upset, he’d want her to beat up on him instead of blame herself because it’s not her fault.

Choso offers that same punching bag for her but in a different font, Choso so clearly still cares about her despite all he’s learned and as stated, nothing’ll change that :)

6. WILL SHE TELL HIM? WILL SHE NOT?😹😹😹😹😹😹😹 WHO KNOWSSS

Guys why do I feel like im lowk becoming gege with this stupid cat laughing emoji…………..

😹

ITS SO SILLY I CANT EVEN

Anywho, happy to have given u trauma, you’re welcome😉

#kamiversee!answers #k!ans: ☃️

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frayin-von · 1 year

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✮Prologue✮

- POV : (thought) - Flashbacks : (flashbacks) - Dialogue : "dialogue" - Narrator : -dialogue- ✴ ✴ ✴ "What a pain.....so much paperwork to complete" Y/N groaned. (father should be grateful that I am still continuing his dirty work...) mock Y/N. (well, I should not complain ,after all I am the sole figure and example of the family , now that I think about it......I wonder what is Ai doing.) wondered Y/N. - It was a rainy evening , in the midst of paperwork pile stood out , a young teenage girl who acts mature yet close-minded dealing with the 'dirty work' her father left behind for her to do.- "Hmm......I should go get a cup of coffee, just in case I doze off from work, man this is just tiring...Ugh..."Y/N said tiredly. - As she was about to get up, the door to her office burst open startling her , and as if right on cue a cup of coffee was given to her by her secretary Yasuaki , even though he was older that her , Yasuaki treating her like family and became like a father figure to her.- "A little birdie told me that someone wants coffee." said Yasuaki gleefully as he handed you the coffee. "You know there is a rule we have that people have to knock before barging into someone's room without permission." Y/N irked. - Yasuaki sweat dropped - "Forgive me, Y/N Senpai! but...you looked tired despite you being 13 ,and acting like a adult." Yasuaki explained. "I know , just because I look like a adult my age does not match my current height." sighed Y/N as she took a sip of the heavenly coffee in one gulp. "Now that is better, I should contin--" right as she was about to continue, Yasuaki slammed his hand down and looked at her disappointedly. "Why did you that ? , you I should complete my work by midnight." Y/N smiled so deadly. "You should check your watch Missy." said Yasuaki coolly. "I...don't have one." Y/N said knowingly "At least , tell me the time now , Mister Googly Eyes. "Y/N said grumbled. -Yasuaki looked at the watch behind her. - "It's 12 : 43 AM , past your midnight" said Yasuaki smiled back at her. "Oh....I went past my time. "Y/N shrieked. "Hmm.....Eh , It's alright" said Y/N murmured as she got up from her seat and went to sofa taking out a blanket. "Y/N Senpai , why are you sleeping here, don't you have a apartment or something?" questioned Yasuaki. - Y/N looked at him and sighed.- "Well my father acts like he owns me like some animal , so he prohibited me to sleep in the house and told if I complete his "work" until midnight, only then I am able to go home, for now I have to sleep here until I finish his work "yawned Y/N. "So much for his "tool" to suffer..."muttered Y/N. "What about Ai? are you visiting her? You know she is missing you. "regarded Yasuaki. "It is better not to though, I know she wants me to visit her but... it's to risky , at least she doesn't have to face 'father's' cruelty." recounted Y/N. -Yasuaki looked her and new what she was going through, after all he has to take care of her as her 'father' said to do. Yasuaki POV "If it doesn't listen to you , lock it in the office and don't feed it , until it obeys you , Understood?" "Yes , Sir..." -Yasuaki doesn't know know why he treats her like this , calling Y/N an 'it'. It angered him to the severely but he knows if he does not obey the 'rules' he will get punished.-

(Well I don't mind getting punished severely , to me Y/N is a person , and to get treated like this , makes me angry , her 'family' doesn't act like a 'family', at least when she is in my sight I will protect her and become her father figure for a long as I live) -While he was lost in his thoughts , he didn't know he absently pulled Y/N and patted her head reassuring her in a brotherly embrace.- ------------------ Y/N POV (Um..... why is he staring like he is staring into the void? Maybe he is jus-- Huh?! What is he doing?! I swear I will...huh, he's patting me? Well...if he won't harm me , then I will remain like this for a while...It is comforting after that painful session with father last week.) "Father I swear I won't do it again! It was an accident! Please!" I beg.

"Heh......You should've listen but you didn't ....THIS IS YOUR FAULT!..." -It scared her so much , those awful memories , but she knew the time will come for karma to stab her father's back , for now she will wait.- (...Better forgot 'him' at least , for now...I....will sleep...soo..tiring...) ------------------- -While time past , Yasuaki snapped back, to find Y/N in his embrace...sleeping peacefully. He put Y/N on the sofa covered her with the blanket.- (Good night , Y/N Senpai may you have the sweetest of dreams...)

- Yasuaki kissed her forehead and closed the door , as the silence envelops the place into a quiet garden of rest for Y/N.-

#oshi no ko x reader #oshi no ko

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ladyhindsight · 2 years

Text

I don’t think there is anything in this story so far that does not infuriate me on some level. I don’t think there is a shred of intelligence left in these characters because all of them make me incredibly frustrated. What even is a clever story but characters withholding information and acting dumb just because.

Jocelyn and Clary arrive at the Beth Israel hospital to see the devil baby.

It is an incapability to describe any eyes without telling which color they are. Every now and then is fine, almost every time is an outright obsession, an inane try to fill the pages with useless words and make your prose seem anything but basic hogwash.

These several women, probably nurses, would most likely wear scrubs if they were, probably, nurses or doctors. I don’t understand this hesitation in the narrative to name things clearly, leaving no ambiguity. Who does it serve that Clary is not sure whether or not these women are nurses (or doctors or secretaries or custodians)? What narrative value is there to have these ambiguous women just moving around? It does not help describe the busy hospital or give a convincing image of the environment you are trying to portray.

→ There was a big information desk behind which several nurses/members of hospital staff were milling. Sings pointed the way to the ICU, Radiation...

Also these women milling about is not related to the next clause, so no semicolon.

Yet Clary is perfectly capable of recognizing Catarina as a nurse. What about Catarina is so different to the women swarming the information desk that Clary could not make the distinction?

Clary has also a YA protagonist moment with a glass door where she once again narrates how Jocelyn is beautiful and she is not and boohoo, I don’t care. Catarina then returns to them after dumping the old man somewhere.

She’d learned this in the first book of the series. This is the fourth. Just stop with these clumsy reminders. The people who begin to read the series from the fourth book deserve to be confused about warlock marks.

Apparently, in The Shadowhunter Codex, it is said that glamours are the simplest and most widely and extensively used magic in existence. The story frequently refers to glamours that hide the Shadow World from the mundane eyes, but it has never indicated that warlocks, for example, would rather use contacts or disguises to hide their warlock marks? Wouldn’t contacts, as is exampled here, be more laborious than a simple spell?

Be as it may, it seems that this bit here is just explaining the obvious.

See the first point.

“The warlock woman” seems like there might be a chance that readers forget that Catarina is, in fact, a warlock and also a woman. Just call her by her name.

Clary is offended that Catarina took no part in the 10 minute war and instead stood watch over one of the most important spell books to ever exist.

Barely, when the author herself has downplayed its importance by making Clary say: “I don’t know. I mean, the battle barely went on for ten minutes"

Saying it like this it seems Clary gets flushed because she’s focusing on her own renown, not that she’s taken Catarina’s words about acting high-and-mighty to heart.

See the two earlier points.

They go see the devil baby and it has claws and completely black eyes. Jocelyn is reminded of Jonathan and leaves in distress, and Catarina gives Clary a piece of fabric from the devil baby. Clary then comes up with another kind of tracking rune.

Talk to him yourself? He’s your friend.

We cut to the bar where Simon’s band is having a gig.

Why do these less than inessential girlfriend characters even have names? It’s like a strange language that means nothing and amounts to nothing and is worth, essentially, nothing. Kirk and Matt are no better, they have no faces, no personalities other than those that are only extensions of Eric (that amounts to also very little).

Magnus is wearing something “funny” again, haha. Ahaha. Ha.

Cut to the Institute where Luke and Maryse are waiting on Raphael to appear to discuss the problem of dead Shadowhunters.

Again, it doesn’t. It seems like an attempt to provoke a response from the Shadowhunters against the Downworlders. The flames are being fanned against all of the Downworlders because of this pattern of dead Shadowhunters. Is Clare trying to insinuate that the Downworlders are so keen to suck up to the Nephilim that they’re about to fight against themselves to prove their innocence to the Clave?

They ask Raphael about Camille and after prodding, Raphael spills the beans about Camille.

Everyone came from London. There is only England, United States, and Idris.

I, on the other hand, am directly opposite to vaguely amused. See, how funny I am, explaining my jokes. It is also pointless to point out something that we can see didn’t happen or Luke didn’t do. He did not mention Simon, there is no needs to point out he did not mention Simon.

Cut back to the gig and teenage horniness that makes me uncomfortable.

Can we not.

Clary then sees Jace and forgets to stand up to Simon as his friend.

Dressed like a mundane as in not being in gear? Just normal clothes? Like the ones they wear normally when not wearing gear? Jace being dressed “like a mundane” sounds like the Shadowhunters have their own fashion and clothes that somehow normally separated them from the mundanes. Which they don’t.

She couldn’t help but try and justify why she even brings it up in the first place.

→ ...and swaying a little to the music. The first time she’d ever seen Jace had been in a club, and he’d watched him...”

Just do it.

I haven’t counted how many times Jace’s tired appearance has been brought up or described in detail, but at this point, I feel like it has been enough. Especially about his facial bones protruding.

→ Up close, he looked beyond tired, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

But as always, we haven’t yet caroused enough with Jace’s exhaustion and Torment.

Can’t believe why everyone thinks he is going to break up with Clary and right after behaving the way why people think he is going to break up with Clary. How self-centered can you get? But of course, this is not to count against Jace but garner sympathy because we all know, in intimate detail, that he’d rather not be anywhere if Clary isn’t there. This is dumb and annoying.

→ though Simon wasn’t sure the audience knew Eric wasn’t joking.

The rest is pointless and not funny.

Simon is then experiencing the side effects of not feeding for a long time.

And he is like, so smart. So intelligent. Nothing else could be the reason but the obvious poisoning when he has not ingested a thing. Simon escapes to the backstage and Maureen, of course, follows. Simon then snacks uncontrollably on Maureen and the chapter ends and I am glad.

#Clary Fray #Simon Lewis #Jace Herondale #Catarina Loss #Jocelyn Fray #Maureen Brown #City of Fallen Angels #CoFA Chapter 8

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vermilion-sky · 2 years

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The Red Queen PT.3

My eyes flutter open to see rays of light dancing above me with the leaves of a tree I laid beneath. Suddenly a warm hand begins to caress my cheek being accompanied with a soothing hum. I accepted the comfort of a stranger, a stranger whose touch felt so familiar? I was resting my head on their lap almost in a strange trance. I didn't bother to lift my head to meet their face, I was okay here, with the unknown.

“Good girl, just relax, give all your worries to the breeze”, the unfamiliar voice cooed.

I closed my eyes once more at the voice’s gentle commands.

“That’s it, I won’t let anything hurt you”, the voice reassured. “So long as you stay obedient, I won't let anything harm you”.

My eyes flung open to such obscured requests, I lifted my face from the figure's lap to be met with a woman in a white veil that refrained me from seeing her facial features. “Who are you?”, I questioned.

“Why, you don’t recognize your own friend?” She questioned back.

“My friend?”, I focus my eyes onto hers trying to make out her face behind the veil in disbelief.

“Look around you my deer, this is what your hometown has come to”, She narrated as what was a field of grass and trees turned to ash in an instant. “The Hounds are now your family, they will supply all your needs”, she reassured.

“It’s because of the Hounds I have nowhere to call a home now!”, I snapped back.

“Don’t let our death be for nothing”, She said sternly as she grabbed my hand.

I began to feel panic growing in the pit of my stomach as the sudden urge to run away crawled up my spine, ‘something isn’t right here’. I attempted to pull away but to no avail. I looked down at my hand that was now being crushed by the woman to see a strange formation beginning to form down her arm, red crystals. I slowly watched paralyzed by fear as the crystals now engulfed my hand into hers. I slowly looked up in horror to see my now deceased friend Kikio staring back at me as the veil dropped revealing her face that was also being consumed by the crystal shards like it did the last day I saw her.

“Please don’t let me die for nothing”, she whispered as her face was now fully crystallized, immortalizing her cold stare of disappointment.

“Kikio, I'm sorry!” I screamed only to find myself yet again in the same bed I've woken up to once before, ‘this is starting to get annoying.

I found Pricilla sitting at the edge of the bed holding the same hand Kikio was holding in my dream.

“Is everything okay? You seemed to have had a nightmare”, she reassured in a similar tone to that of the Kikio in my dream.

I noticed an unfamiliar figure standing in the room accompanied by Prachi who stood beside them, it was one of the council members in that same red robe and mask. I laid there in shock ‘what would one of them be doing in my bedroom?’ I sunk deeper and deeper into my bed as a means of getting away.

“Fear not child, I have come personally to congratulate you on your new match”, said the mask figure in the room. “Due to your quirk being of such high value to the Hounds we have paired you up with just not any suitor but one of high respects”, they proceeded to explain “You will be escorted off the base accompanied by guards to meet your match, I personally will be in charge of setting up the arrangement therefore from there you are expected to fulfill your duties as a Dam. For your sake I highly encourage you to comply and not get any ideas of escaping during this process, You are now the Hound’s jewel you will act accordingly”, the figure bowed their head and slowly exited the room.

“Oh, and before I forget, you will be summoned for a ceremonial feast in celebration of the news, please look and act your best”, he excused himself out of the room.

“What the fuck was that? "I questioned still glued to my bed.

“Your crystal shards have garnered you the highest respect to the hounds, it is your blood that has blessed them with even more riches they now use for currency they are calling you a ‘blood saint’, because of that other major villainous groups have offered their most powerful members as Sires”, Prachi explained.

“I wonder who they have chosen for me, I hope he's hot”, I teased nervously.

Both women looked over at each other as we all stood there in silence for a moment only to suddenly burst out laughing knowing how terrified we all were deep down, got to find humor in every situation I guess.

Prachi and Pricilla proceeded to get me dressed for the banquet, this time instead of my usual white robes they draped me in red with the usual red veil, gold cuffs on my wrist and along with a golden halo crown sprinkled in red jewels, my blood jewels. With one last look in the mirror I had now embodied ‘La Santa Sangre’ which translates to ‘the blood saint’.

Down the hall I was escorted by my posse, this time both Pricilla and Prachi had the ‘blessing’ of coming with me as they stood close by me in adorning me with their golden robes similar to mine. Come to think of it, this was the first time I had ever seen them outside of my chambers. I felt safer with them being here with me. Pricilla grabbed my hand using her quirk making me feel an instant shot of confidence run through my veins calming my nervous system, this was now my moment.

A sudden swing of the two grand doors we walked into the banquet hall where of course all ten council members stood behind the grand table mimicking ‘The Last Supper’ in their usual get up only they too were decorated in red jewelry wearing my blood as a fad, absolutely repulsed me. Everyone else were people in ranked 6 and up wearing midnight blue with red trimming on their uniforms. The haul was decorated in red, midnight blue and gold. We spent that night eating a grand meal while the council silently watched us unphased, leaning into each other every now and then to exchange whispers as the room felt silent. All eyes were on me in both awe and hatred, I didn’t ask to be the hound's “jewel” after all, I wanted nothing more but to leave that room. Little did I know this would actually be my last night here with the hounds.

Once the feast was over the council were the first to leave then the rest of us were excused back to our assigned rankings. I spent the rest of that night with Pricilla and Prachi knowing that by tomorrow I will be sent to an unknown location to be met with my suitor not sure how long or even if I will ever see them again, to this day I'm glad I cherished that last night them, they had became my family one I also had to let go of.

That night was short lived as we spent it talking, laughing and crying. Next thing I knew I was lying awake in bed wedged between the two girls who had fallen asleep alongside me. They too slowly woke up right after me, we sat there confused but yet pleased with the silent morning for it was a rarity here, but the feeling was quickly interrupted as the atmosphere shifted to an unsettling one. From here on out I don't know what waits for me beyond this prison, I am not quite sure what will be worse.

Both girls grabbed my hands sensing the unsettling panic rising in me which instantly began to ease away due to Pricilla's quirk. Prachi followed by placing her hand on my shoulder, her warm touch engulfed my body, I can feel these women healing me both physically and emotionally. I closed my eyes along with them in a prayer as I accepted this fate, my glimmery scabs reflected off of them in what seemed to be such a magical moment, one that would be the last.

Prachi and Pricilla gave me a ritualistic bath of roses and essential oils and proceeded to get me dressed one last time. The usual red veil, robes, and gold cuffs to remind me that I am still a slave to the hounds no matter where I go. With one final look of approval on both the ladies' faces I was now ready to be sent away to my new orders, and right on que came a knock on the door.

The same hooded figure from the council came in from before, both women bowed their heads as the figure bowed theirs followed by a sudden lift of the red mask to reveal their face when suddenly, ‘Why does he look so familiar?’.

“Well hello old friend”, the voice greeted me.

I began bawling my eyes out as I ran into his arms, it was my friend Raj back at rank one.

“Crazy to see how far we have come isn’t it?” he joked as we embraced.

I couldn’t believe it was him all along keeping a close eye on me.

“Listen we don’t have a lot of time, this is actually a set up to get you out of here,” my heart dropped at his words. “I've been working with someone on the outside, the council thinks they are simply agreeing to breed with you in turn for a soldier but little do they know this ‘breeder’ is in on it as well. Once you are handed over to them you will be safe, please do as they say”, he said sternly while holding my face and looking into my eyes.

I was still processing everything frozen in shock, “How did you know I was here?”

“Prachi is my blood sister, I assigned her to you to keep an eye out along with Pricilla who I trust, we are all working together along with several others to get children out of here”.

“And what will happen to you all when I go?!”

“Ssh, don’t worry about it. You need to get out of here and be free, I have people on the outside now we will be okay”, he said, easing my panic as he caressed my face. “Also one last thing before you go, take this”, He said as he reached into his pocket to pull out a gold chain with a gem, it was the shard of Kikio Prachi had saved for me that was now made into a necklace.

Raj placed the necklace around my neck under my veil out of view and placed his forehead on mine in a moment of prayer, Prachi and Pricilla joined, placing their hands on me in a final moment of goodbye, it was time to go.

I was quickly escorted down the hall into an underground tunnel that let to a giant garage of weaponry, there was a giant Van waiting for my arrival with guards holding the back doors open, with a final look at Raj who was back into is council uniform and demeanor nodded in approval letting me know I would be safe.

“Protect her at all cost, this is the Hound’s jewel you are escorting, your lives depend on it”, he demanded as I was placed into the van and the doors shut behind me. I was once again alone in silence as I looked out the window wanting so desperately to run to Raj and hug him one last time but couldn’t since we had an appearance we needed to keep up with the hounds. That was the last I ever got to see him.

The journey was a long and excruciating one, so many times did they have to transfer me onto cars and planes. At this point I had no idea where I was and how far from the base I am and how much longer it would take to get to where we were headed. I was exhausted to the point that I no longer cared, I simply just wanted to get there already. Moments later we were at a sudden halt, I couldn't see anything since the windows were covered.

I could hear what sounded like a giant metal door opening with a few exchanges of words in a foreign language I have never heard before. The car began to move slowly when all of a sudden I could hear a loud pop from all four tires of the car following my yelling and shooting. I quickly ducked down unsure of what was going on until I remembered what Raj had told me before I left “this is actually a set up to get you out of here”.

I clung tightly to my necklace of Kikio “ you have to live on for the both of us… please… get out of here, find a way out… fall in love with a strong… handsome… brave man like we always talked about,” Kikio’s final words chimed in my mind when suddenly the doors flung open blinding me by the light when…red, all I can see where red feathers everywhere…

to be continued...

written by: ♠️

#Hawks fanfic #hawks x reader #hawks x you #boku no hero academia hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks my hero academia #keigo takami #keigo x you #keigo #renaissance #Renaissance aesthetic #red #writing #fantasy #romance #female protagonist

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crimechannels · 11 months

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By • Olalekan Fagbade JUST IN; Traders cries out as Iyaloja seizes goods, dismantles stalls A trader at Lafenwa Market in Abeokuta, Ogun State, has cried out over the seizure of her wares by the female head of the market, known as the Iyaloja, Alhaja Sidi Owe. The trader, Adetoun Oyenekan, told newsmen that the Iyaloja had in collaboration with the Babaloja pulled down her stall, leaving her with nothing. According to Oyenekan, who sells baby toys and stationery, the goods carted away by the market leaders is worth over N1 million. Speaking in an interview, Oyenekan recounted that the Iyaloja had on Thursday engaged her in a fracas by pushing her. She explained that the brawl ensued after the market leader slapped her several times and she retaliated. This incident, she alleged, led to the seizure of her goods and the demolition of her stand in Lafenwa Market. “I was passing by in the market yesterday (Thursday) when the Iyaloja pushed me, I didn’t say anything. She did it the second time and I asked why? I told her to stop acting that way. She started saying all sorts of things. “The next thing she did was to get a red and white tape to seal off my stall. I protested, I asked her to tell me what I did wrong. “They carted away my wares worth over one million naira. She slapped me several times and I retaliated. She pulled down my counter. She was supported by the Babaloja,” she narrated. Oyenekan said she had appealed to the Babaloja and also reported the case to the Gbagura community, but nothing had been done yet. “I am hungry. I cannot sell anything since yesterday. I am hungry and so are my children. I can’t even send them to school. Please come to my aid,” she cried out. Contacted, the Iyaloja denied slapping Oyenekan, saying “she was the one who slapped me.” The Daily Post reported that the Iyaloja did not deny carting away the trader’s wares, saying it was the punishment for assaulting a market head. Mrs Owe expressed surprise that a market trader could have the effrontery to slap the Iyaloja. Her words: “I don’t know where a market member would slap the Iyaloja. Everything happened yesterday. The woman doesn’t greet me before now. I was supervising a culvert project at the market when she suddenly pushed me. She pushed me again when I went to meet a friend in the market. Everybody was surprised. “Instead of dragging issues with her, I, as the Iyaloja, went to call the task force to seal off her stall with tape. When they were about to run the tape round her stall, she started cursing the task force, so they stood away. When the task force could not do it, I took the tape, thinking she would fear me a bit. But she pushed me again. “As I was struggling with her, she slapped me. I said should I turn the second ear to you. She said she would slap me again if I turn the second ear to her. I turned the second side to her and everybody rose up, blaming her for what she did. So, we ran the tape to seal off her stand. “I have informed the Iyaloja of Egba and she called the Babaloja. The right punishment for whoever slaps the Iyaloja was applied. Moreover, it has never happened before, and we have rules and regulations in our market.” Asked about Oyenekan’s goods, the Iyaloja retorted, “If she wants to sue us, she should go to court. The market’s lawyer would respond.” Mrs Owe was also asked to state what should be done to release the seized goods, she said the woman ought to have organised people to apologise on her behalf. The Iyaloja emphasised that it was Oyenekan who slapped her and she did not retaliate, saying “let the tears that came out of my eyes when she slapped me judge her if she lied. If she asked you to publicise it, please do; we are ready. “If she kills a cow for the entire market traders, they would eat; but if the entire market traders kill just one cow for her, she would not be able to eat it. Nothing would happen to her and me too.”

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wakanda-nonsense-is-this · 3 years

Text

Ghost of You — Chapter 10

Masterpage <last next>

Pietro Maximoff x fem!Mutant!reader

Warnings: DEATH (suicide sort of), ANGST, blood, ghosts, a lot of tears, plot twists, spells, mentions of blood.

Word Count: 3601

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

Disclaimer: This chapter will be written a little bit different than usual. There will be two things happening at the same time. Whatever is written in italics will be narrating what's happening at the moment with Tony. And whatever is written normally is what's happening with Y/n, Pietro and Clint.

Italics= Tony

Normal= Y/n

The first thing Wanda Maximoff noticed was the cold in the interrogation room. It had been a few hours since Y/n had escaped. After she left they managed to keep her under control, meaning they cuffed her and isolated her, hence why she's sitting at the room with a pissed Tony Stark in front of her.

"I'm not gonna ask you again witch. Where is she?" He impatiently asked as he started pacing around the girl.

"Where's who?" Wanda faked ignorance as she played with her hair.

"You know who!"

"Really? 'Cause I don't remember." She said as she smiled innocently at Tony and the rest of the avengers that stood outside the room.

The tension in the air from past events could be felt in the air and the silence didn't help.

"So... what's in Mexico?" Clint questioned.

"I'm not sure" I told him. "Hopefully what I'm looking for."

"It's been hours, you're not getting anything out of me." Wanda stated looking at an angry Tony Stark.

"Where is she Wanda? Where is my daughter!?" Tony snapped as he hit the metallic table in front of her.

"Don't you dare call her you daughter! You never even cared about her." She shouted as she felt anger buzzing on her veins at the memory of her friend breaking down because of the man in front of her.

"What's your deal then?" Clint asked.

"Really?"

"What? I followed you blindly, I think I deserve to know if you're gonna turn berserker on me or something."

"Yeah, why did you? Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful, but why? You don't really know me." I voiced my doubts.

"You remind me of him." Clint finally answered and I could see the grief in his eyes. I looked at him in wonder and almost forgot he had known Pietro when he was alive. As stupid as it may sound, I felt jealous he got to know him someway I hadn’t, and after what I was going to do today, I would never meet him like that.

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Tony seethed at her.

"I have no idea what I'm talking about!? You don't even know her!" She shouted at him as she stood up. "Have you look at her!? She's not crazy, you just were a drunk bastard who couldn't bring himself to give a damn about his own fricking daughter, so you put her away!"

"I'm not crazy, you know? I really am not, I just see more than the average person, I guess." I tried to explain.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I kept silence, trying to find the words. I laughed unhumorously.

"That maybe I am crazy after all." I answered bitterly.

"And is it something that bad?" He questioned, I glanced at him and then back at Pietro. He looked anxious, I could tell by the way he wouldn’t stop moving. I guess he felt me staring at him because he turned and locked eyes with me and smiled to appease my nerves but his eyes told me everything he was feeling at the moment. Nervousness, fear, but among everything there was excitement and longing… for me. And if I could look at myself, I know I would find the same thing for him.

"No, I don’t think it is."

"I did what I had to to keep her safe!" Tony yelled, his nostrils flared as he stared at Wanda. He understood why she thought that way, but she knew nothing.

"Safe!? You sent her there to die!"

"You were just 8 years old?" Clint enquired as I finished telling my life's story.

"Yup"

"But why?"

"He's the almighty Anthony Stark, the amazing Iron man, if he had wanted anything to do with me he would've find a way, but I guess he just simply didn't care enough, or at all, about me."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Okay? How could I ever be okay with my own father hating the sight of me? I'll never be okay with it, but I'll get over it."

"To die!? I gave her a life! She's alive because of me! I know it wasn't the ideal one but she had a life. And maybe, if I had done the same to her mother, if I has stopped her in time, then she would've have one too." Tony bellowed, trying not to reveal too much. "I know you hate me and I know she hates me too, believe me, I'm aware, but I don't care, because she’s my daughter and if you ever cared about her you'll tell me where she is before she get's herself killed!"

“Where’s your mother?” Clint wondered out loud, side eying me.

“Dead.” I answered flatly.

“Can’t you talk to her or something? I mean, those are your powers, aren’t they?”

“It’s more complicated than that. She has to show herself to me, I guess I could summon her, but it’s not polite.” I explained to him.

“Why hasn’t she then? Show herself I mean.” Clint insisted. I tried not to think about the reasons but it was impossible.

“Maybe she just didn’t want to or…”

“Or? Or what?”

“You’re really noisy, has anyone ever tell you that?” He gave me an unimpressed look, I sighed.

“Or her soul vanished.” I finished looking out the window. I could feel Pietro’s presence beside me, but didn’t turn. If I did, I’m afraid he would figure out what I was going to do and he would stop me. I couldn’t let that happen, not now that I was so close.

“What are you talking about?” Wanda asked but Tony kept quiet and wouldn’t meet her eyes. She could feel the restlessness radiating from the avengers, they didn’t know what he was talking about either. But above any feeling in that room, she could feel grief and regret coming from Tony.

“What the heck are you talking about Anthony!?” She yelled but he once again remained quiet. The door to the room opened and the team entered. The look on their faces showed worry. A few months ago no one knew anything about her, but now she was one of them and they were going to protect her.

“We can’t help y/n or him if you don’t tell us what’s going on.” Steve tried to reason with him but he wouldn’t budge. One look at the team’s worried expressions and Wanda knew what she had to do. She turned to Tony as her eyes became red and his widened in fear but eventually turned glossy as Wanda navigated through his memories.

“Soo, what exactly are your plans?”

“I found a book.” I announced as I held a dirty old book up.

“A book?”

“Yes, a book, Clint. Those square things with pages that people read.” I rolled my eyes and looked at Pietro, who was laughing beside me.

“I know what a book is smart-ass. What does a book have anything to do with our predicament?”

“When it’s a necromancy book? A lot.” I stated as his face paled a little at the new word. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Not as bad!? Doesn’t that mean attraction to corpses or something like that!?” He insisted alarmingly.

“That’s necrophilia you moron.” I facepalmed myself at his dumb words and saw his cheeks turn red from embarrassment as Pietro’s laugh resonated through the jet.

“Anyways, what did your book say?”

“There’s a ritual. And before you say anything, it’s not what you think. There’s no sacrificed babies included or beheaded puppies or whatever you’re thinking, okay?”

“What is it then?”

“There’s a temple in Mexico. Before Columbus there were thousand of necromancy temples in Central America, but now there’s only two left, in Mexico and El Salvador.” I explained as clearly as I could.

“Wait, if there’s two, then how do you know the one in Mexico is the correct one?”

“I don’t, but the one in El Salvador has been drained of its essence, it’s just a building now.”

“Why?”

“Because a few years ago a necromancer brought someone back and succeeded." I explained as silence consumed us. Both stuck on our thoughts. “Anyways, once we’re there, there’ll be like a platform of some sorts and I just gotta stand there and day some words.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty easy.” I lied with a smile in my face. It was not that easy and I knew it.

With a sob Wanda exited Tony’s mind. She looked at him expecting anger, but was instead met with sorrow and resignation. She covered her mouth and looked at him wide eyed. A tear streaming down her face. And for the very first time she saw Tony Stark in a different light.

“Wanda?” Vision asked fearfully, she turned and look at all of them.

“We need to stop her. We need to stop her.” She repeated, as if she was in a trance.

“NOW!” At the urgency in her voice everyone followed her command and left the room to suit up. Everyone but Tony.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked from where he was sitting on the floor. It took her a moment to find the words but finally spoke, her voice breaking every word but the fierce look in her eyes would’ve paralyzed anyone.

“Because she’s my friend I can’t let her do that to herself. And because he’s my brother I won’t let him go through the guilt of losing her. I won’t let let that happen. I won’t.” Wanda finally said while she cleaned the lonely tear streaming down her neck. “Suit up, I know where she’s going.”

A hand on my shoulder woke me up. I opened my eyes and looked around me.

“We’re here.” Clint informed me as he woke me up.

We were in the middle of nowhere surrounded by trees. I stood up and searched for Pietro. He sat outside contemplating the nature around us. I slowly walked up to him and took a seat next to him. Immediately his gaze fell upon me.

“Admiring my beauty?” I teased him when I caught him staring. I turned to him to tease him even more but the soft look of admiration in his eyes left me breathless and the words died in my mouth.

“Tomorrow at this hour, I’ll finally hold you. This time, I’ll hold you for as long as you let me. I’ll love you the way you deserve to be love and I’ll make you happy Y/n, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Pietro-“

“I can’t promise you you won’t ever suffer again, but I can promise that you will never be alone as long as my soul exists. My soul belongs to you. Do what you want with it.” He took a deep breath and his ghostly hands cupped my face as his eyes filled with tears. “In death and life I will walk by your side Y/n Stark, until my soul perishes and even then, my love will never fade.”

It had been an hour since the team boarded the jet but no one dared utter a word until Bucky decided enough was enough and asked the question everyone was dying to know.

“What did you see?”

They deserve the truth, Wanda thought, so she told them everything. She told them everything about Calliope Khalida, Y/n’s mother. How she was a necromancer, just like her daughter. How she was fairly one of the most powerful witches and how love took her life. She told them of the ritual she did to bring her husband Anthony Stark back to life and the price she paid. A soul for a soul. Wanda told them with tears in her eyes that the ritual Calliope had done to bring their friend back, was the same Y/n was going to do, because just like her mother, Y/n was an extremely powerful necromancer witch and she was going to die.

When midnight was approaching, Clint walked up to where Pietro and I where sitting.

“It’s almost midnight. We should probably start heading to the temple if we wanna make it on time.” Clint advised. I nodded my head and gave the jet a last look. We walk in silence for a while, the only sound coming from the woods around us until Clint spoke.

“Why midnight?”

“That’s when the moon is at its highest point. Apparently necromancers power is stronger at night and is somehow connected to the moon.” I explained based on the things I read on the book back at the compound’s library.

A few moments later we arrived to our destination. The place was big and so was the door that was made of obsidian. To no surprise the walls were intact, after all, they were protected by magic, though they were moldy and dirty. There were no windows on sight, but if I the book was right, there should be a big dome of glass on the roof.

With Clint’s help we manage to slide the door open and stepped inside. Everything was dark when Clint walked in but the moment I did dozens of torches were lit. We looked at each other and slowly inspected the place. And right in the middle was a platform, exactly like the book described and above it, stood the dome. I took a deep breath and walked to the center of the platform, right where the moonlight illuminated through the glass and prepared everything the way the book said.

I locked eyes with Pietro and memorized his face, his eyes, him. I memorized the feeling of being in his presence, the feeling of his eyes on me and the look of his face. So full of hope. I regretted nothing but the pain I was going to inflict on him, but he would get over it and would have a life and everything we talked about, he would be able to do it. I was giving him a chance to a life and that was what matter to me, what made it all worth it. I just wish I could be part of it.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter what you see or hear or feel or anything, you won’t intervene. No matter what, don’t you dare stop me.” I sternly warned Clint, who kept silence. “Promise me Clint, promise me that no matter what you won’t intervene.”

“I promise.”

“I'm glad I met you.” I smiled tearfully as I spoke to Pietro.

“Why does that sound like a goodbye?” He asked fearfully as he took a step towards me.

“I love you.” I finally said as his face morphed in one of realization and turned into one of horror but it was too late, the preparations had been done and I had already started to recite the words that would end my life.

“Remember, we came here for Y/n we’re not leaving without her. No matter what, we stop her.” Steve announced as the team made their way out of the jet with Tony, Sam, Wanda, Bucky and Vision following behind him.

Rapidly Tony, Sam and Vision carrying Wanda took off flying and in less than a moment arrived at the temple.

“This place…” started Wanda, inspecting the obsidian big doors. “is guarded by old magic, but it has weekend over time.” Wanda stated, as she ran her fingers through the walls, her eyes turning redder the longer she spent in contact with the surface. At that, Vision stepped in between her and the temple and gently but surely moved her fingers away. Her eyes turned back to their original color but her shocked look didn't fade. "I can feel the power emanating from her. The ritual has already begun."

Tony's face morphed into one of utter panic and before anyone could stop him, he raised his hand and destroyed the door. Without caring if he was being followed by his friends, he entered the temple, ignoring the shock and horror on the team member's face.

"Was that suppose to break so easily?" Sam questioned, confusion written all over his face.

"It shouldn't have even gotten a scratch." Wanda answered tensely, following after the distraught millionaire. The rest, without other choice, followed their friends inside.

Everything was going according to my plan.

The torches were lit, the ashes had been spread around the altar and the ritual bowl had been lit. And the moment I recited the first word, I knew it was going to work. I felt it in the air, how it became heavier with death and by the thousands of souls that suddenly appeared.

At first, I was fine, but when I reached the third verse, I understood why this was a forbidden spell. It felt like life was being sucked out of my organism, and in some way, I guess it actually was. But it didn't matter, I kept on going.

"Stop this Y/n! Please, stop this, I'm begging you. Don't do this." Pietro screamed, eyes transfixed with horror as he witnessed the love of his life vanish in front of his eyes. He took a step towards the platform but my voice raising made the wind rise in every direction stopping him. Normally, it wouldn't have affect him, but to his horror, Pietro could feel himself starting to materialize.

But suddenly, the obsidian's door literally exploded and Anthony Stark made his way inside. To say i was shocked was an understatement, he did not only wreck the door to temple, but had the audacity to look as if he cared, if I didn't know better, I would've believed him.

He made a move towards me but Clint stopped him with his cool arrows. Clint managed on his own for a few seconds, before the whole team entered the room and then I knew I had to hurry up or I would lose my chance.

I resumed my chanting, that in the shock of seeing Tony had stopped and more ghosts appeared. In response, the fire of the antorches became brighter and brighter the more I neared the end of the enchantment.

Out of the corner of the eye I saw Clint fighting Wanda but something she said made him stop abruptly and look in my direction. We locked eyes and I knew he knew and he was going to do everything to stop me. He raised his bow and aimed an arrow to the page with the enchantment. He forgot though, he's in my territory. I aimed my arms at him and dozens of ghosts materialized just enough to block the arrow and then disappeared. Everyone stopped at that demonstration of power and looked in my direction. Out of everyone's faces, once again, Tony's stood out the most, but this time all I saw was recognition.

But it was too late. Oh so late.

I looked at Pietro and realized it was working, I could see him, really see him, not the ghost of him, but his true self and then... I said the last words of the spell.

Nothing happened for a second but suddenly the torches turned gray and the moonlight washed over all of us, making Pietro visible to the team and unlike my little demonstration seconds ago, Pietro maintained his form and soul.

Everyone remained silent, nobody dared move a muscle in case he disappeared. All eyes were on him, but his were on me, barely standing on my feet, blood coming out of my nose and tears leaving traces on my face.

He took a step and as if he was learning how to walk, felt to his knees. But he stood up and took another and another.

My time was running out. I could feel it in the way my breath would get stuck in my lungs and in the way my muscles refused to cooperate, but even then, I ran, I ran to him and when we collided, after years of yearning for each other's warm, my legs gave up and I knew it was the beginning of the end.

Pietro caught me rapidly and I could see his powers starting to wake inside him. I felt his hands on my body, seconds later I realized he was looking for wounds and when he found none his hands cupped my face.

"Tell me what's happening so I can fix it, dragostea mea." Pietro pleaded, kneeling on the floor with me spread on his lap while he rocked us both.

"You can't fix this." I smiled with tears in my eyes as my hand touched his face and cleaned his tears. He leaned his face to my hand as I caressed it.

"It's okay." I soothed the crying boy holding my almost limp body, fatigue threatening to overtake me.

"No." He pleaded as he kissed my forehead repeatedly while holding me even closer to his shacking frame. "Our life together just started, you can't leave me. I need you Y/n, please!" He begged, his voice breaking mid sentence.

"In death and life I will walk by your side Pietro Maximoff, until my soul perishes and even then, my love will never fade." I promised, my eyes growing heavier as I coughed. Suddenly the taste of copper filled my mouth and his sobs became louder.

At that moment the team appeared on my vision but my eyes focused on Tony as I said my last words to him.

"I'm sorry" I coughed more blood. "that I was never good enough for you." I finished and with my last breath I locked eyes with the love of my life.

"Live, Pietro, for the both of us, live." And just like that, darkness welcomed me back home.

Taglist:

@vicmc624 @austynparksandpizza @im-gemmy @in-my-body-bag @theyaremorethanjustfictional @padmoonyfeorge @rats-socks @letsloveimagines @filmsbyblair @tofeartheunknown @n1ght5h4d3-24 @reallysparklychaos @yourmumssoggytits @dude-were-getting-the-band-back @pink-hufflepuff @olipratton @eliraei @scarlletgrayson @susanaleitao510 @angelstitch1 @iftaylorswiftcanthensocani @midnightstar-90@quack-quack-snacks @shawkneecaps @dumbasscorn @rmvb24 @thetiredtoad0-0 @ifilwtmfc @webofstars1 @alltheusersithinkwerealreadytaken

310 notes · View notes

still-astray · 2 years

Note

HELLUR!! I’m back!!! So I have a request for Sophie where she gets like bullied at school bc ppl don’t like how she joined skz and they are basically ot8 so I was hoping we could get the members reaction to that? 🍿⚾️ I hope these are the right emojis😭

hiii!! <33 ofc!! this sounds SOO interesting to write! (and dw you’ve got the right emojis😊❤️)

taglist: @fromfreesia @skz-angel @skzfairies @mynameisnotlaura

if you want to be added, just send in an ask ❤️❤️

Bullies

Sophie encounters her first antis

genre: angst

word count: 1k (scenario only)

warnings: bullies, hate directed towards sophie (physical and verbal)

“Sophie!“ The familiar nasty voice rang out through the noisy school hallway.

Hearing it, Sophie sighed, not ready to deal with another day of Miyeon’s clique. But she turned, knowing that the other girls- and the couple of guys that always hung out with them- would persist until she lost her cool and yelled.

Then it would be Sophie’s fault. Having had to explain to Chan once already about being sent to the principal because of losing her temper, Sophie was in no frame of mind to do so again.

Miyeon stood at the front of her small crowd, one hand placed her her perfectly popped hip and her typical how-dare-you-walk-the-same-floor-as-me expression twisting her otherwise pretty features. “Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,” she clucked, holding out her phone. “Have you seen the latest trending Twitter post about you?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “No, I haven’t, and I don’t want to.”

“Suit yourself.” Miyeon took her phone back. “Aren’t you at all curious what it is?”

Sophie hesitated, only to count ten so she wouldn’t lash out, but Miyeon took it as a yes and began to narrate. “Stray Kids’ Newest Member Proves Herself Unworthy to Perform,” she read aloud loftily, emphasizing all the right words to make it sound even worse than it was already. “While performing in Chicago on the group’s second world tour, Stray Kids’ Sophie slips on stage during their performance of Easy due to her high heels. JYP Entertainment immediately released a statement stating that Sophie is well enough to perform, but that she will not be participating in any of the choreography for the rest of the tour. Needless to say, the image of one member sitting off to the side on a chair dampens the entire vision of an energetic Stray Kids concert.” Miyeon paused to look over at Sophie smugly. “If you can’t dance,” she sneered, “then why did Chan let you into the group? No, wait: why was JYP himself blind enough to let you in if you can’t keep it together onstage?”

“They let me in because of my vocals,” snapped Sophie, already in tears and trying not to start yelling. “Not because of my dance skills, because Minho and Hyunjin and Felix are excellent teachers and Chan and I were both confident that I could come up to par.”

Miyeon smiled pityingly. “But you obviously couldn’t,” she said patronizingly, “because look what-“

“SHUT UP!!”

Miyeon stopped talking, an expression of total shock replacing her earlier sneer.

“I’m done with being bullied just because you can’t stand the thought of your precious boy group including a girl,” Sophie spit out, lowering her voice when she realized that her first outburst had been akin to a scream. “You obviously didn’t pay attention to the concerts before Chicago, because I performed immaculately on every stage before then. I fell because of my shoes, you idiot, not because I suck at dancing!”

“Look, I’ve always thought you could dance really well,” cut in Sunyeong, Miyeon’s closest friend. “But we all know that JYP chose to add you in because you’d suffice as a replacement for Woojin.”

Sophie felt like a truck had crashed into her chest at full speed, leaving her speechless, unable to breathe for a few seconds.

Miyeon immediately latched on to this new train of thought. “Don’t you remember what JYP said when he added Minho and Felix back during the survival show?” she asked, her sly smile back in an instant. “He said specifically that there was just something about Stray Kids as nine that was so special he couldn’t disrupt it. Stray Kids wasn’t the same when they were missing members.”

“So when he found out you were a possibility to join,” finished Sunyeong, smiling just as smugly as Miyeon, “of course-“

“I AM NOT A REPLACEMENT FOR WOOJIN!!” Sophie’s voice resounded through the hall, and the between-classes buzz died down almost instantly. “None of us have ever conveyed in any way that we thought that!” she continued, pushing through the misery of having hundreds of eyes watching her in this extremely unideal situation. “And none of us have thought it, ever. I don’t know where you get your delusions, laser brain,” she unconsciously quoted from Star Wars, “but I am not a replacement for anyone, I never have been, and I never will be.” Her voice cracked on the last few words, and she sank to the floor in tears, unable to take the hate any longer.

“Okay, everybody, move along,” barked a familiar authoritative voice, and a moment later Sophie felt a hand on her shoulder. “Not you, Miyeon. And the rest of her crowd, you guys stay here too.” Principal Kang’s voice softened as he turned to Sophie. “Sophie, we’ll sort out the yelling situation later, okay? Right now I’ve got a more pressing matter to deal with.”

As Principal Kang helped Sophie to her feet, the girl’s long sleeve slid up her arm, revealing an ugly mosaic of bruises coloring her arm.

“Oh, my God!” gasped the principal, horrified. “Sophie, who did this to you?”

Sophie, her head hung low, pointed at Miyeon’s crowd.

This time Principal Kang couldn’t keep the venom from his tone. “Everyone to my office. Now.”

•🧚🏻‍♀️•

A few minutes later, Sophie sat in the office for the second time that semester. Only this time, Miyeon’s clique was scattered around the room as well.

“Okay, Sophie,” said Principal Kang. “Tell your story.”

“It started when I started school this fall, after our Maniac tour,” Sophie began, her voice low and quiet. “At first they were just taunts, meant to annoy me and drive me crazy. But soon it turned to hate. First verbal, then…” Her voice caught, and she had to stop for a moment.

“Then what?” asked the principal, doing his best to hide his anger at the situation.

“Then it turned physical. I’ve been hit, shoved against lockers and knocked hard to the sidewalk, all multiple times. One time they pushed me down a small flight of stairs. I sprained my wrist trying to stop my fall, and nearly blacked out.”

When she finished, Principal Kang’s mouth was set into a thin line. When he spoke, his voice was cold and hard, absolutely no sympathy for those on the receiving end of the coming justice. “We will take care of this.”

Members’ Reactions:

Chan:

absolutely livid

doesn’t even realize for a while that sophie had been called a replacement, and when he realizes that, he’s angry all over again

actually calls up the school and asks if the students who bullied sophie will be expelled

when he finds out they will only be suspended (for a long time) he contacts JYP and asks him if he can take sophie out of school and she learn at home

and boom, now sophie’s homeschooled

every time they go out, he makes sure she’s surrounded by at least three members as an extra safety measure

Minho:

just as angry as chan but decides not to show it

spends three hours collaborating with seungmin on a list of comebacks for sophie to memorize if she’s ever bullied again

puts together a video compilation of her dancing compared to his, hyunjin’s, and felix’s to show her just how good she’s become in the last few months

tries to convince chan to limit her phone to texting and calling only but chan vetoes that

because, after all, “a teenager needs her phone, and i trust her to be mature about the hate situation”

Changbin:

looks less bothered than the others

but secretly he’s learning and designing defense methods to teach sophie so she can defend herself properly if someone tries to physically hurt her again

does his best to always be one of the three surrounding her in public

if he sees her getting nervous he’ll take her hand and start swinging it gently and crack some jokes

Hyunjin:

unofficial captain of the “sophie recovery team”

which includes him, jisung, felix, and seungmin as regular members

in charge of the physical recovery department

which involves making sure her bruises are fading, that she doesn’t have any obvious head injury symptoms, etc.

sketches or paints a little something for her everyday that features a quote against a beautiful background

usually the quote is something about the members being thankful that she joined them

sometimes though he goes to social media and picks out really encouraging posts or comments about her from fans and uses those instead

Jisung:

the moment sophie gets home from school on that awful day he drags her to the living room to show her a powerpoint he and felix made about why she belongs in stray kids

actually more hurt than angry over the bullying situation, he tried to imagine what it would be like to be in her place and now the empathy has overrun the anger

escorts her to school every morning while they’re getting the go-ahead for homeschooling and if he can’t pick her up himself he makes sure one of the other members does

one time none of the members could make it so he called up a bunch of different people and ended up getting sana and momo from twice to pick her up

just goes to show how intent he is on her safety outside the building

almost succeeded in getting her to wear makeshift padding underneath the long sleeves she still wears but minho backed up sophie’s protests and they ended up winning

wanted jeongin to pretend to be sophie’s boyfriend that had just transferred schools but thankfully for everyone’s sanity chan vetoes that one with a “smart thinking but no”

Felix:

collaborates on jisung’s powerpoint

makes a salt dough and has everyone press their handprint into it

blindfolds sophie and has her do it that way

then it turns out to be a forever imprint of stray kids as they are with sophie

uses kneading the salt dough as his emotional release, takes out his frustration on the salt dough

because sophie’s mood often fluctuates a little based off the members’ moods and he doesn’t want her to pick up on how he actually feels about the whole situation

in truth he agrees with chan that the bullies should have been expelled

he also secretly wants a restraining order against them but he knows that’s just slightly overboard so he doesn’t suggest it

Seungmin:

probably the most chill on the outside but inside he’s probably even madder than chan got

it’s more of a silent rage that he keeps to himself till he’s assured that sophie is okay and till they get confirmation that she’ll be homeschooled

then he disappears one day to the gym and comes back tired from hitting the punching bag for almost a solid hour

single-handedly organizes sophie’s schedule to fit dance lessons (minho won’t fully stop until she’s fulfilled her full potential) and homeschooling

seungmin does this secretly one day and then surprises sophie with a completely revised and finished schedule

sophie’s really happy because for one thing that was just a really nice thing for him to do, plus now she doesn’t have to worry about fitting it all together herself

Jeongin:

deeply hurt that people could be so cruel to sophie

the fact that she’s the maknae, the only female member, and a rookie just makes it all so much worse

tries to always be in the trio surrounding her while in public

sometimes gets her up really early and takes her to the park while its mostly empty so she can enjoy being outside and a normal kid for a little while before the crowds come

he’s thinking maybe if she gets to play for a while and just be a kid, and forget that she’s an idol, maybe that’ll in some way help with the emotional wounds from the bullying

reminds her daily of how special she is to all of them, complete with a hug

(just pretend that sophie is on jeongin’s back)

#skz’ bubbly sunflower 🫧🌻#stray kids’ sophie #stray kids 9th member #kpop imagines #stray kids imagines

33 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years

Text

Roommates – Part Four

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,385

Warning: Smut

Note: This plays in 2020. Please interact. Your interactions and comments mean a lot to me.

Just as you were in the middle of your morning routine following a night filled with erotic dreams about your roommate, you heard a loud knock on the door.

You quickly turned off your vibrator and chucked it into your bedside draw before pulling up your panties and singlet and walking into the hallway.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to see James. His face was flushed and he looked like he had been crying.

‘You don’t fucking answer my messages and calls anymore’ he said and it quickly became clear to you that he must have been drinking all night when you smelled his breath from the distance.

‘You shouldn’t be here James, please leave’ you said firmly, knowing that his visit wasn’t permitted under the current lockdown restrictions.

‘Just hear me out Y/N, please’ he begged once again after he had been trying to get back together with you for the past four months and, whilst you initially maintained contact with him, you no longer responded to his messages and ignored his calls for the past two weeks.

‘There is nothing more to discuss James. I am through with you’ you said before you tried to shut the door on him but, just as you did, his foot caught in the doorway and he pushed his way into the hallway.

‘James, honestly, get the fuck out. You cheated, more than once, and I am done with you’ you huffed out and thought that, clearly, he would have received the 2,000 Euro engagement ring he had bought you in the mail by now.

‘You can’t just throw away what we had Y/N’ he went on to say and, just as he did, Cillian returned from his morning run.

‘Get out of my house James or I will call the Gardaí’ Cillian said calmly as he noticed that you were distressed.

‘Alright Murphy, go ahead, call the fucking cops’ James huffed out angrily and, before you knew it, James pushed you with your back against the wall in frustration.

‘Y/N, please fucking listen to me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen’ he pleaded again with a whiny voice but his grip on you was becoming rather aggressive.

‘James, stop, you are hurting me’ you shouted out and, just as you tried to push him off, Cillian grabbed James by the back of his t-shirt and pulled him out of the house.

‘That’s enough James, fuck off and leave her alone’ Cillian said harshly and, when these words left his lips, James turned around suddenly and hit Cillian across the face with his right fist.

‘Jesus James’ you panicked as you quickly walked over towards Cillian and him but, when James realised what he did, he was quick to run off.

‘Fuck, Cilly, are you alright?’ you asked as you watched him hold on to his face.

‘I am fine’ Cillian chuckled before acknowledging that his face would likely be swollen before Lindsay would arrive in the evening.

‘I am sure she won’t mind Cilly’ you said before giving him a hug and thanking him for defending you and making James leave.

‘Y/N, I stink, you probably shouldn’t…’ Cillian said but you didn’t care and hugged him anyway, pressing your half naked body against his.

Ironically and almost surprisingly, you actually didn’t mind the scent of his sweat covered body. You could still smell the deodorant and aftershave on his skin and the hint of mint from the toothpaste he used that morning on his lips.

‘Let’s get some ice on this, hmm’ you then said before forcing him to sit down at the kitchen table while you prepared an ice pack for him.

After you wrapped the sachet of ice into a thin cloth, you gently pressed it against Cillian’s cheek which, already, had turned red.

The skin on his face felt soft and slightly moist and his deep blue eyes gazed into yours for a brief moment while his lips smiled at you.

His smile was warm and beautiful and you couldn’t help but pay attention to the large freckle on his upper lip.

‘So, uhm, I…uhm…I think I might go and get dressed’ you eventually huffed out after you had gotten lost in his eyes for a short moment.

Cillian nodded in response and, just as you walked away from him, an unfamiliar feeling washed over his body.

It was a feeling he couldn’t explain and it was almost unique in a way. In addition to his arousal which, by this point, had also formed in between his legs again, he felt shivers run over his spine and down into his stomach. These shivers felt almost like flutters and made him feel uncomfortably warm.

***

It was 5 o’clock and Cillian was out, walking his dog and getting some Aspirin from the nearby pharmacy following his incident with James and you decided to have a bath before the said storm was scheduled to come in later that evening.

Despite, you really needed to get your mind of the fact that Cillian was about to shag Lindsay which, in the past, hadn’t bothered you but, more recently it did. In addition, your friend Laura continued to nag you about updates on Cillian’s life, telling you that she was still very much in love with him and asking for your help to turn things around between them.

The sky had already darkened and you decided to gather all of the scented candles Cillian had in the house and carry them to the bathroom. You arranged them all around and poured yourself a glass of red wine before settling in the hot tub which was facing the backyard through a one-sided window, meaning that no one could see inside.

With Cillian being out, you didn’t bother closing the bathroom door and allowed the heat from the fireplace in the living room to radiate throughout the house.

Just as you sat in the half full tub and watched as the steaming water began to fill it completely, you reached for your phone and ipods to listen to something relaxing.

When, finally, the tub was filled completely, you lowered yourself into it allowing the bubbles to overtake your body. Your knees were slightly bent as you laid back and your breasts were floating on the surface just barely exposed to the air above the water. Your hair was floating and the bubbles were popping all around your head while you listened to an audiobook narrated by Cillian.

His voice was always something you enjoyed listening to, now more than ever and you closed your eyes to take in this moment of solace.

But, just as you did, Cillian’s face appeared beneath your eyelids and your heart instantly skipped a beat. You wanted to feel his strong hands on every inch of your wet body and, with those thoughts in mind, your hand began to caress your ass cheek while thinking about him. With each stroke you moved a little further up your thigh and back down the back of your ass. Your pussy lips were throbbing and wet from more than just the warm water, begging to be touched.

You were in a trance, listening to Cillian’s voice through your headphones as you slowly began to pleasure yourself and, with your mind being so far gone, you didn’t even realise that Cillian had returned home from his walk early as it was pouring with rain outside.

‘Y/N?’ he shouted through the house as you were nowhere to be found until, eventually, he realised that you may be in the bathroom.

With the bathroom door open, he looked inside only to find you with your eyes closed, facing the opposite direction towards the large one-sided window.

‘Y/N, shit, I am sorry’ he huffed out and, as you continued to run your hand up and down your naked body, he realised that you had your headphones in and didn’t hear him.

Cillian turned around quickly and you released a gentle moan that softly echoed in the bathroom. In your mind, you wanted him more with each touch of your hand but, of course, he didn’t know that.

When Cillian heard your moan, his manhood immediately went on alert and whilst he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help himself but turn back around and watch you.

Unbeknownst to you, Cillian watched you as one of your hands was massaging your breast while the other slowly spread your legs exposing more of your pussy to the warmth of the water. It crashed against your lips like waves in the ocean and they were pulsating, begging for more.

‘Jesus, look away, fuck’ he said to himself quietly inside his mind as he stood there motionless and with a raging erection. He wanted to strip down naked right there and join you and it took all of his willpower not to do exactly that.

‘Hmm’ you moaned again as you listened to Cillian’s voice through your headphones and took your fingertips and tightly squeezed your clit. You could feel your juices being released and your legs spread wide as your hand pressed and caressed your mound.

‘Fuck’ Cillian’s mind said again, urging him to walk away and, just as he had built up enough strength and turned around, he heard you again.

‘Cillian’ you huffed out but with your eyes still tightly closed and feeling each sensation you were creating as you indulged on the sound of his voice.

Cillian immediately turned around in a panic, thinking that you had caught him watching you. Why else would you have said his name, he wondered.

To his surprise, when he turned around in a panic, you still had your eyes closed and continued to pleasure yourself. Your hand was working over your mound from top to back and teasing both of your holes now and, with Cillian watching, you continued to touch and tease yourself, caressing the inside of your thighs.

Perhaps he was imagining you calling out his name he thought. You couldn’t possibly have said his name while you were masturbating. Clearly, his mind was playing tricks on him and he was sure about it.

Then, the unimaginable happened. You stood up inside the tub in all of your naked glory. Bubbles were running down your body and the smell of vanilla was in the air as you climbed out of the bathtub.

Cillian was quick to disappear into the hallway and thought that, perhaps, he should have closed the bathroom door. But then, he heard his name leaving your lips again and, just as he went back to see whether you were, in fact calling for him, he watched you lean against the vanity with your headphone still inside your ears and your fingers running over your outer walls of your pussy before teasing your clit with a soft abrasive touch.

In a trance and consumed by pleasure, you dropped your towel to the floor and squeezed your clit between your fingertips as you stood there with your eyes shut. The candle lights still danced in the room, bouncing off the water drops still on your soft skin.

All of your tattoos were on full display and so were your piercings, including the one on your clit which Cillian became rather curious about.

He could not take this any longer and watched you desperately as your body cried out and you responded by slowly inserting your index finger into your cavity and sliding it back out. You did this a few times until she pushed it in deep and held it there, massaging your inner walls. Then you added a second finger into your hot pussy pushing some of your juices out onto your hand.

Cillian swallowed harshly when, eventually, you removed your fingers from your hole and placed them one by one into your mouth, sucking them clean.

‘Jesus fucking christ’ he thought and, despite the fact that he knew that Lindsay would be visiting him in the next hour or so, he turned around and made a quick run to his bedroom.

Seeing you like this was too much for him and, without giving it a second thought, he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down half way in order to release his raging erection.

Leaning against the dresser in the bedroom, he began to stroke his hard shaft vigorously, thinking about what you did in the bathroom at the same time as he was seeking relief.

Just as Cillian was stroking his cock hard and fast while thinking about you, you thrusted your fingers in and out of your pussy while thinking of him. Eventually, you began to pound your pussy, slapping your clit with each thrust. Faster and harder bringing yourself to an orgasm.

Just as you came, your moans filled the entire house, thinking that you were on your own.

‘Oh god, yes Cillian’ you groaned and there was no mistaking it. It was his name he heard when you came and this alone sent him over the edge, causing him to cum hard onto the pile of dirty clothes besides the dresser.

Just as he stroked the last few drops of cum from his shaft, he heard the doorbell ring.

Quickly, he grabbed one of the t-shirts from the pile of clothes and cleaned himself up before walking downstairs and opening the front door.

‘Hey Sweetie’ Lindsay said, carrying two shopping bags.

‘You are early’ Cillian said before giving her a brief kiss.

‘I wanted to surprise you and thought I would cook for you. For Y/N too, of course. At least this way, you can finally introduce us properly and I don’t feel like your beck in call’ Lindsay explained.

‘Sounds great’ Cillian said somewhat flustered just as you walked through the hallway almost completely naked.

‘Oh my god, you are home…fuck’ you shouted, covering your breasts with a towel and Cillian couldn’t help but sigh.

He thought about you, calling out his name as you masturbated and now he was in his hallway with Lindsay who clearly wanted to mark her territory.

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#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine

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missflurry · 2 years

Note

3, 8, and 13 for the nhie ask game ❤️

Thank you for these questions :D I took it waaaaaaayyyy to seriously haha. You can skip to whatever you want to read! I just really like writing and analyzing :P

3. Do you ship Daxton or Benvi? And why?

Here I will explain A) why I don't ship Daxton and B) why I do ship Benvi!

A >> Why don’t I ship Daxton?

For starters, I do think Paxton is cool and I really like how he’s growing as a person, just like Devi is! But even with that growth, I just don’t see it working.

Paxton and Devi for sure have an interesting connection, but rewatching the show made me really question why people ship them. Is it only because Paxton is so hot? Because…

I found him (too) hands-on on wanting to kiss Devi (suddenly kissing her without consent while picking up trash, climbing through her window), but very passive when it comes to talking about the emotional connection. He even ignores her in season 2 and wants to hide her as a secret. Of course he comes back from that, yay! But then…

When he breaks up with her in season 3, I think it’s very mature that he sees that Devi has to work on herself and especially on her insecurity. BUT I do think that break-up was really rushed. Maybe talk about it first? I feel like this was the first bump in their relationship and he just gave up on it. I feel like Ben would’ve handled it differently. He would’ve tried to connect with her and go to the core of why she’s feeling that way. Maybe even some creative bantering or adding a competition for gamification of the problem. Of course someone else shouldn’t “fix” you, but this for me is just one example of ‘Paxton only wants to be with Devi when she isn’t “crazy Devi”.’

I think Devi telling Paxton that ‘he was her dream’ is SO powerful. It gets hinted in mainly the first two seasons that Devi takes breadcrumbs from Paxton and in the process lets her friends down. Even the narrator is like: “Ben drove her to the beach but Paxton LEFT HER A VOICEMAIL.” I feel like the series is set up for her to realize that Paxton is 'just' a dream. Pining over Paxton is heavily intertwined with Devi’s grief. She even writes she wants to have sex him in the grieving journal. She’s filling a hole of pain, of missing her dad, with these nice feelings of an over-romanticized crush. Her realizing that she cares about Paxton, but that she idolized (being with) him because she just needed it so much at that time, is such character growth and I love it.

I feel like a possible relationship between Paxton and Devi would be just like the dynamics in season 2, where Devi jokingly plays his ‘Indian Mom’. Paxton still needs to figure out his identity a whole lot more (I hope this is a storyline in season 4!), and I’m afraid that when he’s a college freshman and Devi is still in high school, he might feel ‘held back’ in discovering that identity and she would be disappointed in the lack of attention he has for her, triggering her insecurity.

B >> Why do I ship Benvi?

I just love them soooo much together. Their chemistry is OFF THE RAILS. Their banter is everything. I look forward to every scene with them, also because Ben is my favorite character. Jaren Lewison (the actor) adds so much to the character, and you see and feel how deeply Devi moves him.

They kind of have the same drive in life and they challenge each other, but can also team up. This last thing is especially important in a relationship I think.

Ben is relationship material. He is all in and he has Devi’s back.

Ben loves Devi for who she is. Even in her worst moments, he cares for her. He’s also not afraid to call her out. Some people might find him too mean with the whole tattoo thing, but I stood by him (keeping in mind that he’s a 16-year-old-boy). She really hurt him, and it would be weird if he just brushed over that because he really cares about her. Paxton on the other hand moved on pretty quickly. It was easier for him, because he didn’t even make the relationship official and wasn’t ‘all in’.

Even though they have some communication issues and I think they can be more open with each other, I feel like Ben and Devi have way more heartfelt emotional conversations. Their relationship is not only about “oh my gosh he’s hot”, but way more about deeper feelings.

The crush Devi had on Paxton was more of a projection of her grief and need for positive feeling, but her crush on Ben has the ‘stomach knots’.

The. Fucking. Banter. I. Love. It.

I DO hope that in season 4 we see more of Devi having Ben’s back, because we see a lot of support on Ben’s side (welcoming her in his house, driving her to the beach, comforting her in the bathroom while she’s crying) but not so much on Devi’s side. I want Devi to show Ben that she’s all in too.

In conclusion: I really don’t get why people ship Daxton, I really like Benvi because of the banter and emotional connection, I’m also okay with a TeamDevi ending!

8. What is your most unpopular opinion?

I really really really really really hope that Ben and Devi won’t have sex in the beginning of season 4. Is that an unpopular opinion?

I just really don’t think Devi is emotionally ready for it yet! I also don’t like the idea of them getting so close while there is so much left unspoken between them!

I would love it if it went something like this… [random bad fanfiction incoming]

While Devi and Ben are kissing, Ben sits them down on the edge of the bed, but Devi goes for it and pushes him on the bed. 'Now is the moment,' she thinks. 'The moment I’m finally gonna lose my virginity.' She starts freaking out a little, and it shows in how they act with each other. It’s adorkably awkward. Ben gets stuck in his T-shirt or something like that. Devi is still freaking out but trying to battle through it, when Ben suddenly stops her. “David… Devi… Can we just maybe, talk for like a moment?” Devi is relieved and she sits up. “What’s up?” Ben is visibly blushing. “I just… I think we should talk before we…. I know I gave you that note but I just… Honestly… Never thought you would give it back to me.” He sighs. “I was ready to do this. I just don't know if I can do this casually, knowing you’ll leave. That’s just… I think it's too hard for me.” Devi sighs, relieved. “We can talk. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want… I just really wanted to be with you and I found the note in my pocket and…” “You can be with me, even when you don’t cash your erm, free boink.” “I’d like that.”

Of course there would have to be more banter. But I just think it would be really cool for a show to portray a guy being vulnerable and not wanting to have sex just at a random second! And I think it’s best for Devi to not rush into something that is so emotionally impacting.

13. What season finale has been your favorite so far?

I LOST it at the end. So that one is definitely up there.

I also REALLY liked Devi trying to impress the guys in the theater cafe and the camera going to Ben with his fucking grin and saying “God David, that was pathetic. Are you the charity we are raising money for?”

LOVED IT. Especially him showing up there, knowing that Devi wanted to kiss someone.

I hope someone reads this xD

#never have I ever #benvi #benvi fanfiction #devi x ben #devi #devi vishwakumar #never have I ever spoilers #ask #me

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no-droids · 4 years

Note

Ok I’ve thought about it more and Din for sure knows where she’s at. It’s why he didn’t call right at midnight because of the bells, sweet girl kept looking out the window for reasons she didn’t understand, and him and the kid sleeping under the willow tree for a *second* night and saying they’ll find her again tomorrow. He just wants her to have an adventure 😭 but I think it’s the first time he found her

YESSSSSS I know this was probably a bit confusing but it will be explained in the actual story, because he absolutely did find her. If you would prefer not to know until the chapter comes out (idk if it’ll be in the next one or the one after) DONT CONTINUE READING as this will be addressed within the fic but I don’t mind clarifying some confusion right now

I’ve seen some people ask about the line at the end where he mentions how often the guy turned back to face her in line, but I’ll say right now that that was indeed from her footprints and the fact that he could see blonde dude’s feet constantly turning back to face her in line while they shuffled up over time. Din didn’t know where she was the whole time, he wasn’t just tagging along behind her and letting her get ahead of him for funsies. He could tell every single time she stopped to talk to someone because her footprints wouldn’t just continue walking, they’d be directly next to each other to let him know she stood there for a little while. In the first chapter, sweet girl stopped for a bit in Osiruu and listened to a melody being played on an instrument, so I imagine Din would also stop there and try to figure out what caught her attention—if there was another set of footprints that also seemed to stop in the same place, it means she had a conversation. He would see the children she stopped to speak to, the vendors she chose to visit, like... he’s basically learning more and more of who she is when nobody is looking.

the only time she ever truly felt Din’s presence was later on in the afternoon on day four. When she snuck into the temple to donate all her credits and then the two brothers found her, she had a weird feeling that she was still being watched. But then again, Din mentioned how she’s not able to have many friends with him, so he must’ve been looking earlier than that. He was also in the inn at midnight, and the narration said he laid up against the willow tree for two nights in a row, which means that after he called her up that first night in the orphanage and she told him she hoped he’d sleep in the bed, Din hung up and immediately left to follow her. He said “see you tomorrow” because he knew where she was and he WOULD see her the next day, and he also said “I already—” when she offered to give him her coordinates because again, he already knew. HE HADNT FOUND HER YET, but he knew where she’d be.

so yee day four was when he actually found her, i imagine while she was attending the service in the morning and just zoning out and thinking about him. so I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for her or think he knew where she was the entire time and was just messing around with her because he wasn’t. He predicted her plan during day 3’s check-in (the last part of chapter 16), figured out where she went on day 3, but he didn’t actually find her until day 4. then he decided to give her just one extra day once he saw where she was and that she was safe. That is why he “wasted time” in the city. He found her and decided to let her finish out her adventure, confident that he’ll be able to get her the next day. He left the city as soon as she fell asleep that first night after speaking to him in the belltower.

So yes sweet girl did her absolute best and to be entirely honest, if she had kept going and been weathered enough to match Din’s sleeplessness and constant movement, AND keep up her clever little tricks to disappear, she would’ve been able to evade him for quite awhile longer. But she says before she even gets to the temple that she’s not good at running, it’s not who she is, and if he finds her there then that’s okay. There was like... no pity aspect to it or ANYTHING, it was a choice they both made for each other so yeah🥺🥺

#ask #anon #rough day spoilers

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milkiane · 4 years

Text

broken promises

pairings: fred weasley x reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of war, death eaters, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, mentions of an angry padfoot, tiny fluff, and most importantly: angst angst angst

word count: 7498 ;-)

note: i hope you have the box of kleenex and a tub of ice cream i asked you to bring, because shit’s about to get real !!

how does one narrate a well-structured story when your life has been an absolute mess? well, i guess you could start from the night you met him.

take me back to the night we met.

it was rather unusual to see an upcoming sixth year amongst the flock of first years. you were studying at hogwarts for the first time, and you were quite glad that your dad, also known as the infamous sirius black, finally let you move in with him in 12 grimmauld place, as he claimed to finally have his life together.

you were formerly from the states. moving in with your aunt (a cousin of your father’s), and studying in ilvermorny as soon as you turned 11, explaining the prominent american accent amongst the british ones.

as soon as the sorting hat decided which house you would be in, professor mcgonagall, an elderly witch in long green robes and a pointed hat, told you to meet her at the deputy headmistress’s office after the feast.

you wished that you'd asked where the office was because now you were getting lost within the numerous hallways, stairs, and rooms of hogwarts. you knew how huge this school was, but you didn’t expect it to be too enormous to get lost in.

you were currently passing by a hallway full of paintings who were having an animated chat with one another. you let yourself smile softly, admiring the magic between the hallways. some of them greeted you, which you gladly returned.

you were about to take a turn in the hallway to your left when someone suddenly yelled, “hey, wait, no!”

“wha-?” but you were too late, as soon as you stepped foot in that corridor, you were immediately drenched in orange and purple slime.

too shocked to move, you stood there frozen. the guy who yelled, stood frozen as well, grimacing as you carefully wiped the slime off your face.

fred closed his eyes in mortification, expecting you to be mad. he anticipated yelling or scolding, and maybe even if you considered beating him to the pulp. when it didn’t come, he peeked an eye out open to see you levitating the slime off your body, and before he even knew it, he, too, was drenched in slime.

you laughed, and he swore he never heard anything so angelic until he got a fleeting speck of it. he didn’t even mind the slime dripping off him when he finally got to see a proper look at you. if he was going to be honest, he never really paid attention to the sorting ceremony. he and george have been talking about all the pranks they’re planning to pull, so this was the first time he caught the sight of you, and oh sweet baby merlin, he thought, you were stunning.

he snapped out of his trance when you decided to speak up, “so, is this some sort of welcoming tradition for the new-comers?”

“oh, only for the ravishing ones,” he smirked, giving himself a mental pat on the back for immediately coming up with the witty one-liner.

you rolled your eyes, fixing your brand new y/h robes. fred looked at you with curiosity, “what are you doing here, anyway? students don’t normally roam around here, most especially newbies. that’s why i waited for good ol’ filch whereas george was grabbing the dung bombs,” realizing that you probably had no idea who filch or george was, he stopped talking, giving you some room to talk.

“ah, well-”

“miss black! there you are, i had to question a few students and paintings about your whereabouts. th—“ she stopped speaking, glancing at the redhead behind me, “mr. weasley! what- what is the meaning of this? why are you drenched in goop?”

fred grinned, sending a wink your way, “that’s my cue! see ya ‘round, gorgeous. oh, and you, too, minnie!”

you and the deputy headmistress stared at his retreating figure with amusement. professor mcgonagall led you to her office and let you choose from the various optional classes and introduced you to a student who’ll give you a tour around the obsolete castle.

our friendship will never die, you're gonna see it's our destiny.

it has been two days since that fateful night when you met a certain redhead. you were trying to recall the directions towards the charms classroom when someone ran past you, harshly bumping your shoulder, and consequently making you drop your things. a distant yelp from behind you was heard, “oi! george, you prat!”

“godric, ’m sorry, didn’t notice you,” he said, picking up your fallen books and pouch of quills and ink. you looked up and recognized the fiery red hair and deep brown eyes.

“y’know, i should really anticipate the day when we’ll run into each other without you dousing me in slime or bumping into me when you're running away from someone,” you laughed, taking the books from him as you stood up with your pouch in hand.

“what d'you mean?” he tilted his head, evident confusion occupying his face.

you observed him, seeing if this is some kind of joke that he was playing. when you’ve seen no mischief swimming in his eyes or a smirk, you knew he was serious.

“oh, come on, weasley. i don’t reckon getting drenched in slime would be effortlessly forgettable,” you asked.

“i remember you, just not when you were, erm, drenched in slime. i saw you at the sorting ceremony. padfoot's daughter, yeah?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. he rummaged through his head for where he could’ve possibly seen you. he felt bad that he didn’t know what you were talking about.

you sort of thought you left an impression. well, seeing as you were a victim in one of his pranks. “well, yeah, that, too, but i was talking about when i was in a hallway you claimed was deserted? then professor mcgonagall found us? no?”

he frowned, but just as his lips turned downwards, he started chuckling. weird.

“what’s so funny?”

“we haven’t particularly met.”

“what d’you mean? i’m rather sure that i wasn’t dreaming when that happened,”

he laughed, running a hand through his hair, “don’t worry, you weren’t,”

you were confused, to say the least, but then another voice from behind you spoke up, “that’s because it was me who you met that crucial night, goop,”

you looked up at him just in time as he swung an arm around your shoulder. you looked back between the guy who bumped into you and the guy who drenched you in slime.

back and forth.

forth and back.

red hair. red hair.

twin. twin.

“oh. OH!” you exclaimed, “twins! oh, merlin, this is embarrassing,” you laughed sheepishly. of course, that just had to happen.

they both laughed along with you. fred removed his hold on you and stood beside his twin, “yes, twins.”

george chuckled, offering you his hand to shake, “‘m george weasley, the bloke who drenched you in slime’s twin, and i sure won’t be forgetting about you now.”

i chuckled, shaking your head, “would you two be so nice and show me the way to charms? ‘ve got a few more minutes before classes start,”

“‘course, we’ve got nothing better to do than escort a pretty girl to her class, anyway,” fred, at least you thought it was fred, winked at you, making you huff amusingly.

the three of you walked together towards the desired destination as they, too, had charms, when curiosity got the best of you and asked, “hey george?”

he looked down at you, blame the evident height differences. “yeah?”

“why were you even running away a while ago?”

his eyes widened and fred smirked, taking his frozen state as an opportunity to smack his head, “tosspot left me with snape when he caught us, he got to run away whilst i got a weeks worth of detention,”

you snorted, “first rule of pranking is you don’t get caught, and here i thought you two were experts,”

“oh we are, darling! snape’s just timed well-- greasy prat’s been waiting for the chance to punish us.”

“well, if you’d let me, i’d be willing to be an apprentice for this little mischievous escapade of yours,” you offered, smiling as they both looked at each other with compelled looks.

“alright, freddie? reckon this is a start of a revolutionary friendship,”

“a start of a revolutionary friendship, indeed, georgie.”

“well, now that we’ve established our apprenticeship, ‘tis lovely to meet you both, i’m y/n black.” you smiled, taking each of their hands. they grinned mischievously, “glad to have you with us, miss black,” and before you knew it, they dragged you to the classroom by your arms.

each night i ask the stars up above, why must i be a teenager in love?

“you fancy him, don’t you?” you shifted your gaze away from fred and glanced at george, who was looking at you with a pointed look.

you knew that you could trust george, he’s your best friend, and you are his. you knew that he wouldn’t tell a soul, even fred, despite him being his twin.

you sighed, “yeah, yeah, i do,”

he nodded, a thoughtful look on his face, “do you ever plan on telling him?”

“no. it’s obvious that he doesn’t like me back. he sees me as his best friend and i certainly don’t want to ruin our dynamics, george.” you whispered as you saw fred making his way towards the both of you.

“what’re the two of you whispering about?” fred whispered, moving his head in between you and george.

you smiled, “fred. but don’t tell him that! we don’t want to feed his egotistical attitude if he ever finds out,”

“oh? well, why’re you talking about,” he looks at his surroundings as if he didn’t want anyone to hear, “fred?”

“we were debating whether he’s the most handsome twin, or if it’s george.”

“and who’d you say?”

“george, of course,”

fred gasped dramatically, earning a harsh glare from madam pince, “you wound me, woman! how could i possibly live with the betrayal?”

you giggled silently, scared that madam pince might consider giving you her wrath, “sit down, you wanker, madam pince might kick us out again.”

“are you actually scared of the librarian?” george chuckled.

you look at him with wide eyes, “how’re you not? if looks could kill, she’d give he who must not be named a run for his money!”

“SHHH!” speak of the devil. you cowered away in between the twins as they made fun of you.

“it isn’t funny!” you whispered, tilting your head so your hair curtained your face.

“i don’t know, goop, it’s quite hilarious,” george continued snickering. ‘goop’ has been their nickname for you ever since your first encounter with fred, it was supposed to be a one-time thing, the nickname, but they sort of just stuck with it.

fred cooed, “aww, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, i’ll— georgie and i will protect you from pince’s frenzy,”

you rolled your eyes trying to express irritation, but the smile on your lips have betrayed you. you were about to respond when you’ve been interrupted by a couple of giggling second-year girls.

the three of you snapped your heads towards them, confused.

“s’there anything you’d like to share, ladies?” fred asked, wiggling his eyebrows, making them giggle more. you and george shared a glance and smiled.

the three of them looked at you, making you dumbfounded, “is he your boyfriend?”

your eyes widened in surprise, but you decided to play along and joke, “which one?”

they giggled, pointing at fred.

you both looked at each other with raised eyebrows and small smiles.

“yes.”

“no.”

you looked at each other once more, you with a mix of stun and disbelief, fred had a huge grin on his face. and george? george just rolled his eyes, displeased with the obliviousness of his best friend and twin who clearly got the hots for each other.

“we’d make such a cute couple, no?” fred asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

you looked at the girls and gave them a wink, “hmm, i don’t know… i’m not particularly fond of having ginger babies.” they giggled. gee, what was wrong with them and giggling?

he rolled his eyes and leaned forward, gesturing for the second years to come closer. fred smiled at them and whispered, “i’m not her boyfriend, i’m her husband,” they gasped, grabbing your attention, you tried to make out what he was saying but to no avail.

“yeah, we’re married, and now you better start calling her mrs. weasley whenever you see her, yeah?” fred grinned mischievously before leaning back to his chair. you looked at him in suspicion, but he paid you no mind as he opened up a book that you both know he won’t read.

you shook your head, checking your watch for the time, “i better get going, i promised to help hermione with differentiating runes,” you kissed the cheek of both boys, but lingering a bit with fred. when you pulled back, you waved at the girls.

they giddily waved back and said, “goodbye! see you around, mrs. weasley!”

you stopped in your tracks, slowly turning around to glare at the sniggering twins. you scoffed, turning back around and leaving the library, avoiding the gaze of the frightening librarian. as soon as you were out of sight, you let out a chuckle, feeling your cheeks heat up.

fred watched you gradually get smaller as you left the library. he would be lying if he said that he didn’t wish to be in a relationship with you, but he didn’t want to make a move— afraid that you’ll reject him and your friendship would be broken. he adores your friendship too much to risk it.

george watched as his brother stared at your retreating figure with love and longing. he shooed away the girls so that he could talk to him without any disturbances.

he repeated the question he asked you moments before fred arrived, “you fancy her, don’t you?”

he snapped his gaze to his brother, eyes wide and brows raised, “huh?”

“y/n. d’you fancy her?” he repeated, this time facing his parchment to continue writing the order forms.

“why? do you?”

“no. now, answer my question.”

fred sighed, “i’m head over heels for her, georgie,”

george just smiled at his brother, mentally counting all the galleons he’ll be able to receive within the month— he knew you’d get together sooner or later, but george definitely wished it‘d be sooner because he doesn’t really fancy losing tons of galleons.

we used to steal your parents' liquor, and climb to the roof. talk about our future, like we had a clue.

after weeks of pining after each other, and a very satisfied (and a few galleons richer) george later, you can finally say that fredrick gideon weasley was now your boyfriend. all you had to do now is to tell your father.

the weasleys were staying over at 12 grimmauld place for the holidays, much to yours and fred’s pleasure.

the ‘adults’ (they still didn’t want you and the twins to join despite your age legality) were still having the meeting and it was quite late. you just had to wait till everyone was sound asleep before sneaking out of your room and wait for fred in the lounge.

once you’ve heard the satisfying shut of each door, you quietly tiptoed around your room with your fluffy socks on, determined not to wake ginny and hermione up.

once you opened the door, you were met with the sound of another door opening. you froze, hastily thinking of some sort of excuse as to why you were still awake.

you didn’t see nor hear any signs of movement so you peeked your head a bit, and saw fred doing the same. you quietly giggled, carefully shutting the door as you made your way to fred.

“hi goop, missed you,” fred mumbled, fuzzing his head in the crook of your neck.

you laughed silently, “fred, we just saw each other three hours ago.”

“i know, but that was too long. it felt like forever,” he smiled, “now, c’mon, we need to celebrate,”

“celebrate? for what?”

“for successfully sneaking out, of course,” he said, steering you around the house, hand in hand. “now, d’you reckon your dad has a stash of fire whiskey somewhere?”

you hummed, removing the hold of his hand and rummaged through the kitchen's cupboards, “aha! there y’are,”

fred turned his gaze towards you as you shook the whiskey in his face, “let’s go,”

he grabbed the shot glasses and a blanket that was laying around in the couch before letting you drag him away.

“c’mon, freddie,” you whispered, slowly opening the attic ladder, hoping that kreacher was nowhere to be seen.

you both went in, careful not to step on any creaking floorboards. when you reached the window you opened it and handed the whiskey to fred, “give me a minute,”

“be careful!” he exclaimed, nervously watching you climb over the ledge.

“always am,” you winked before raising yourself and onto the roof, “give me that and climb,”

fred did so, and as soon as the both of you were up there, he threw the thick blanket over the both of you, and cuddled with each other.

a couple of shots later, the both of you were giggling, talking about all the pranks you’ve managed to pull through the years you’ve been in hogwarts. the laughter soon died down and the sounds of breathing, the wind, and the engines of the muggle vehicles were the only things that were heard.

“do… do you ever think about the future?” fred asked. you stared at him, he wasn’t looking at you though, he was gazing at the twinkling stars up above.

“yeah… they mostly contain you, though,” you whispered, placing your head on his chest as he pulled you closer.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“me, too,” he smiled, kissing your forehead.

you sat up and kissed his nose, “c’mon, red, reckon we’ve had too much to drink,”

the both of you packed up everything you’ve used, carefully made your way down, kept the firewhiskey, and washed the glasses. too tired and drunk to go to bed, the both of you retired on the couch, sleeping in each other’s arms.

as soon as the sun crept up through the window blinds, you groaned, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the sleep. once you’ve gotten used to the blinding light, you looked up and smiled at your sleeping redhead.

you slowly slipped out of his grasp, kissed his forehead, and walked towards the drawers to look for painkillers. you haven’t even drunk that much.

fred woke up a little while later after feeling the warmth of your body heat disappear, he yawned quietly, taking in his surroundings and remembered what happened last night. he was quite giddy, to say the least. he has been after hearing that you thought of having a future with him.

he stood up and saw you at the kitchens, drinking a glass of water. he made his way towards you and slipped his arms around you, hugging from behind.

“g’morning, love,” his morning voice still never fails to make you flustered.

“morning, freddie,” you smiled. he moved around you and grabbed a cup of water for himself. as soon as he made sure his morning breath was out of the way, he smiled at you, “it’s nice that your voice was the first thing i heard today.”

he leaned against the counter as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

fred gladly complied, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. you slowly bit his bottom lip, emitting a low groan from him.

sirius just woke up and was desperately in need of a cup of black coffee, no pun intended, he chuckled. he grabbed his hair brush from his vanity, brushing his tousled hair as he silently went down, careful not to wake anyone up.

as soon as he entered the kitchen, he was met with the sight of the weasley boy groping his daughter’s arse. his hand stopped mid-brush.

“get your hands off my daughter, weasley!” he growled, making his way towards the poor bloke.

the both of you immediately jumped away from each other, eyes wide. this isn’t how he’s supposed to find out!

fred was scared shitless, if he might say, so he carefully backed away as sirius approached him like a predator.

fred ran. yes, ran. and sirius? he chased him around the kitchen with his hair brush in hand.

“‘m sorry, sirius, don’t kill me,”

“how dare you come into my house and snog my daughter!”

“no, sirius, ‘m sorry!”

“then you strut around and grope her arse like that,”

“sirius! said ‘m sorry, put the hair brush down!”

“didn’t molly teach you any manners?!”

“she did, she did, she’s a wonderful mother. sirius, no!”

in other times, you would’ve stopped the chaos whilst sirius, who was still in his dog-printed pajamas, chased a very pale fred around the kitchen with a hair brush.

but you didn’t, so you were laughing your arse off. you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to laugh your arse out with what’s happening. you knew your dad was a sweetheart, he wouldn’t actually kill fred, right? … right?

soon, every member of the order and the children, frantically went down with their wands drawn out, looking around for trouble, but they, instead of seeing any death-eater related attacks, saw a very angry padfoot manhunting a 6’3 ginger twin with a harmless hair brush, and a wheezing y/n.

“mum, hide me! he’s gonna murder me with a brush!” fred immediately took cover behind his mother. she and the other adults sighed exasperatedly but smiling nonetheless.

“thought someone was getting tortured with how freddie was screaming bloody murder,” george snickered.

“get out here and face me like a man, fredrick!” sirius growled, but stopped a bit and asked, “or is it george?”

fred cowered away behind his mum, “george, george! ‘tis definitely ‘im!”

george’s eyes widened and yelped, “‘m george! he’s fred!”

“dad! stop that, fred and i are dating,” you said, wiping your tears away.

sirius was taken aback, lowering his weapon, “what?”

“we were supposed to tell you today, but i guess you were just too eager,” you teased him, making your way towards fred and intertwining your hands together. fred looked slightly hesitant but smiled sheepishly at your father.

sirius just squinted his eyes at fred, racking over the tall redhead, “you better watch your behavior, boy, or you might as well just sleep with an eye open.”

you knew your dad loved fred, he’s been asking about him the moment you’ve told him about your blooming friendship and the pranking adventures you have had. he admires the bloke, fred reminds him of his younger self, minus the playboy endeavors and the family issues. he approves of the boy, but that doesn’t mean he fancies waking up to him snogging his daughter.

sirius slowly approached fred, opening his arms for a hug, but fred flinched, making everyone laugh. when he realized what sirius was trying to do, he laughed nervously, hugging him back and awkwardly patting his back. he was about to pull away when sirius tugged him back in and whispered, “i’m serious, fred. one wrong move, and i’ll be damned to be back in azkaban,”

fred shuddered slightly, but nodded nonetheless, “i’ll never hurt her, sirius, she means the world to me.” he smiled, both of them looking at you as you laughed with george and remus, retelling them what happened.

i don't promise a lot, but i'm keeping my word.

it has been at least a year and a few months since your father has passed, and fred has been with you through it all. you were spending your holidays at the burrow with the rest of the weasleys (plus harry, remus, and tonks).

you were currently in the living room, gossiping about boys (well, you were talking about fred) and the latest scandals in hogwarts with ginny.

“gin, i mean, have you seen the way harry’s been looking at you during dinner?” you asked, watching as her face grew red.

“he has not! ‘m convinced that you inhaled too much of fred’s perfume to be talking ‘bout something as poxy as that, y/n.” she laughed, fiddling with her sleeping robes.

“can you blame me? he smells so good. now, don’t tell me you haven’t had a sniff of thou chosen one’s essence?” you giggled, “c’mon gin! the both of you are meant to be, you’re soulmates, a stubborn one, at that.”

“we’re not, y/n! you and fred’re the proper definition of soulmates,”

you smiled softly, “it’ll take time, ginny. i can see the way he looks at you, it’s the same way i look at your brother,”

she sighed, “let’s just hope you’re right,”

“i’m always right,” you joked, waving at fred as he made his way towards the both of you.

“what’re my lovely girlfriend and sister talking about?” he smiled, kissing your cheek.

“soulmates,” ginny shrugged, looking away from harry.

“soulmates? what a load of bollocks,” fred’s face twisted in disgust, before whispering in your ear, “we’re definitely soulmates though,”

your face started to heat up and you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face, “yeah?”

“yeah,” he pecked your lips, throwing an arm around your shoulder and turning to ginny, “yeah!”

“i reckon he’ll marry you on the spot if he can,” she rolled her eyes, smiling as well since she heard what fred said.

“oh i would’ve done it the moment she drenched me in slime, but it has to be special, y’know?” he said, peppering your face with kisses, “flowers, confetti, diamond ring, grand gestures, all that sort.”

“freddie, i’ll marry you even if you propose with a toy ring,” you beamed up at him, kissing his nose, “because i’ll love you forever and always.”

“i’ll love you forever and always, too, goop,” he said, looking at you with pure love and adoration, “and that’s a promise.”

i'll say, "will you marry me?", i swear that i will mean it.

and fred did mean it as you’ve been together for four years now and counting.

“we’re in this together, goop,” he said, which leads to where you are now, fighting off the death eaters and co, side-by-side.

“stupefy!” you shouted, knocking off the death eater charging towards percy.

“thanks,” he breathed out, you nodded, “no problem.”

“incendio!”

“ascendio!”

“incarcerous!”

“stupefy!”

“petrificus totalus!”

you saw fred and percy handling a group of death eaters beside you as you finished off one, but what edged you off was one of them raised their wand, but it wasn’t pointing at any one of you. it was pointing at something behind you, you looked back just in time as he yelled the spell.

“fred!” you pushed him, mustering up all your strength to bring you along as the wall from behind you collapsed.

you coughed, “stupefy!” successfully throwing back the man.

you detach yourself from fred, “fred, fred?” you patted his cheeks, he was still breathing.

“c’mon darling, you have to wake up,” you cried, looking up for a bit as percy kept the remaining death eaters distracted.

“marry me,” fred whispered

you let out a breath of relief as you looked down, “w-what?” you wiped off the dust in his face.

“marry me,” he said more clearly, slowly sitting up to cup your face.

you slapped his arm, “you could’ve gotten yourself killed, you numpty!”

“but… i didn’t?” he yelped, rubbing his arm to soothe the pain, “not the answer that i was expecting but, alright,”

“marry me, y/n,” he kneeled down on one knee, grasping your hands, “i know that this isn’t exactly the proposal i’ve had in mind, hell, i don’t even have the ring, but i love you ‘till the ends of the earth and i’m asking you once again, y/n black. will you do the honors of being my future wife?”

you cried, nodding your head as you didn’t trust yourself to speak up. you pulled him in a hug as you sobbed against your shoulder, “i love you, too, fred, forever and always,”

he kissed you, he kissed you like it was the last thing he’ll ever get to do.

“erm, guys, i’m terribly happy for the both of you, and i hate to say this but we’re in the middle of a war!” percy warned.

“c’mon, goop, we’ve got a war to win,” fred kissed you one last time before the both of you ran off to help percy.

and i realized, no, we're not promised tomorrow.

they said that a couple’s wedding day is bound to be the best day of their lives. a new chapter to write. a new door to open. a new voyage to venture. tons of possibilities.

you were standing in front of a length-view mirror, admiring yourself in the reflection. you were wearing the wedding dress of your dreams, your hair was styled into a sophisticated up-do, and your makeup was elegant.

“hey, sis-in-law, you ready?” george peeked his head through the door, “wow, i-”

“hi george,” you smiled, wiping off the tears gathering in your eyes, “oh, merlin,”

“freddie’s gonna go bonkers,” he hugged you, pulling back to admire you once again, “c’mon.”

you and fred granted george to be his best man and the one who’ll walk you across the aisle, and for the first time in your six years of friendship, you swore you never saw him hug you so tight with tears in his eyes.

as soon as you arrived in front of the closed archway, george stopped to look at you, “you sure you don’t want to back out, goop? fred farts in his sleep sometimes. ‘ve got the keys of the flying ford anglia in case you ever need an escape plan,” he joked.

you giggled, “i think i can handle a farting fred, georgie. i’ve been your best friend for too long, you’ll never know how much i’ve been through,”

he chuckled, “if that’s the case, then let’s go get you and loverboy officially married,”

as soon as the door’s been opened, you suck in a breath, awestruck with how the decorations were perfect— all thanks to molly’s orders and hermione’s organizing, guests in their assigned seats, and most especially, your husband-to-be clad in a black and white tuxedo, tears gathering in his eyes. everything was so magical.

you were expecting that today would be the happiest day of your life, you were expecting to exchange your detailed vows with fred, you were expecting for the long-awaited “i do’s”, you were expecting to seal the deal with a kiss, you were expecting to have a wedding ring as an eternal promise displayed on your left ring finger, you were expecting to listen to george’s embarrassing stories of you newlyweds, you were expecting to start your future with fred.

what you didn’t expect though? was that as soon as george gave you away, as soon as you were standing in front of him, fred apologized and ran away, tugging at his tie.

your smile disappeared.

the guests gasped, turning their attention to you as ron and arthur chased after him. tears started to pool in your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. you hardly noticed that the guests were anticipating your reaction or that the weasleys were ushering them into the venue where the reception was supposed to be. you were just staring at the place where fred once stood, expecting him to come back and say that it was all a prank.

but he didn’t, and that’s what broke you the most.

you collapsed on the floor, sobbing on george’s shoulder as he whispered some comforting words.

you’ve waited, and waited, and waited.

you sat on the step board, still in your wedding dress, tear-stained face, and messy hair. george offered some company, just sitting beside you as you stayed silent, rubbing your back soothingly as the guests bid you goodbye with sad smiles.

george was mad. no, that was an understatement, he was fuming. he knew how much fred loved you. he knew all the plans he had in store for the both of you. he knew all the words fred will say in his vows. what changed?

as soon as everyone had cleared out, you refused to leave from where you were. you refused the food they gave you, or the clothes to change into. you were positive that fred would come back. he promised.

“c’mon, y/n, please, let’s just get you home,” george said, offering you his hand.

“no, i-i’ll stay, george,” you said, your voice cracking, “i’ll wait for him, he’ll come back. he can never do this to me, he wouldn’t.”

but you were wrong. he never came back. he broke his promise.

by the time the clock struck 7, george have had enough of your stubbornness. he understood how you felt, of course, but he didn’t want his best friend to wait all night for someone he knew wouldn’t come back.

so the both of you walked, he shrugged off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. you didn’t want to come back to the burrow, but you had to pick up your godson and be on your way. you didn’t see fred there either. you ignored everyone and all their pitying stares. you didn’t even hug molly back when she wanted to comfort you.

you just carefully detached yourself from her, grabbed your godson, and went out. you and george were walking in silence as he carried the boy, walking the both of you towards the apparition point.

george sighed, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing you for a while, and he wanted to give you some space, so brought the sleeping kid to your hold and kissed your forehead, “owl me whenever you need me, yeah?”

you forced a sad smile, “thanks georgie, i’ll see you around,” and apparated away to 12 grimmauld place.

you said you'll grow old with me.

“uncle georgie!!” teddy, your godson, immediately abandoned his coloring book and leaped in the arms of george.

“hey, little man!” he laughed, watching as teddy’s hair turned into the same shade of red as his. it always happens ever since he decided that george was his favorite uncle (don’t tell harry!), and he’ll never change it to his original hair color until the next day.

you smiled, placing your cup of coffee down to greet your best friend, “hey, george,” you kissed his cheek.

“‘m just checkin’ in, how’re the both of you?” he asked, ruffling teddy’s red hair.

“good! mum—“ he stopped, “erm, i mean, auntie y/n will finally bring me to di-gonley later!”

your heart stopped for a moment when he called you ‘mum’. this hasn’t been the first time that it happened, he usually gets too preoccupied to notice, but you never mentioned it nor talked to him about it as he still missed his biological mother. “it’s diagon alley, lovey, and yes, we’ll be leaving in a few,”

you walked away from them and grabbed your purse, “go ask uncle georgie if he wants to come join.”

he beamed, grabbing george’s hands, “can you please come with us, uncle georgie? please, please, please?”

george sent him a faux look of contemplation, “hmm, i don’t know, teddy. d’you think auntie y/n will buy us some ice cream?”

teddy gasped, and wobbled his way to you, “auntie y/n! will you buy us some ice cream? uncle georgie said he’ll join if you do!”

you playfully glared at george, making him chuckle, before returning your gaze to teddy lupin, whose face was now in what you’ll describe as his, ‘i’m-a-very-adorable-boy-please-give-in’.

“oh, alright, let uncle georgie help you wear your shoes,”

as soon as the three of you were good to go, you floo’ed your way to diagon alley. you never apparated when you were with teddy, he usually gets sick when you do, so you had to fixate a floo network in your muggle flat. it was an incredible hassle, especially with muggle neighbors. you had to use multiple silencing spells while the wizards in charge were doing it.

it’s been a while since you’ve been to diagon alley, you’ve avoided it at all costs, especially after… that … anyways, teddy has been seriously adamant on going ever since george told him all about it and his shop.

you knew that you couldn’t fend it (and him) off forever, so after mustering up every courage you had, you agreed. you reckon that it was worth it, seeing your godson, the boy who made your life full of hope and happiness again, incredibly bubbly and cheerful, it eased your nerves a bit.

fred knew that his twin was off to go somewhere. george always tells him, but he never mentions where he’s going or who he’s meeting, just that he had places to be. so to busy himself, he went to florean fortescue’s ice cream parlor to cool off.

while waiting for your order of three cones of ice cream, george offered to bring teddy to flourish and bott’s since he knew how much teddy loves coloring books and bedtime storybooks.

once fred passed by the street, he opened the entrance with a satisfying ring of the welcoming bell. he breathed in the sweet smell of the countless flavors of ice cream. he scanned through the shop for a place to sit when it suddenly stopped at the sight of a familiar h/c. he froze, no, it couldn’t be, right?

“three servings of ice cream supreme for y/n!” the man hollered.

no…

you stood up and made your way towards the front, and fred had gotten a glimpse of you. you looked gorgeous, you always were, fred thought. you were using a hairband, something you used to despise as it always hurt the back of your ears, doing its job to keep your hair away from your face.

you took your order just in time to see your companions for the day, oblivious to the stare of another certain ginger.

“mum! uncle georgie bought me a new book! ‘tis about dragons!” a tiny redhead exclaimed with glee.

fred felt his heart drop, ‘mum’? ‘uncle georgie’? red hair…? again, it couldn’t be, right?

“edward remus! lower your voice, darling,” you chuckled, setting your ice creams down on your table.

“oops, sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, covering his mouth.

before you could even reply, a voice from behind you has spoken up, “erm, y/n?”

your breath hitched in your throat. “no,” you whispered.

george grimaced, grabbing your ice creams and a very confused teddy’s hand, “we’ll be at the shop if you want to leave,” he whispered to you before leaving the both of you alone (minus the parlor’s customers and employees).

you frowned, following them out, and steered away from your ex-fiancé.

“y/n, wait!” fred followed you out and grabbed your hand.

you whipped around to face him, pulling your hand away from his hold, tears pooling in your eyes, “what do you want, fred?”

“was that your kid?” he asked casually, trying to hide his nervousness.

“no- he’s teddy, lupin and tonks’ kid, i’m his godmother. he forgets that i’m not his biological mum sometimes, and if you were wondering why his hair was red, it’s because he loves george.” you said, “now, ‘m gonna ask you again, fred, what. do. you. want?”

“i- i just wanted to talk,” he mumbled, looking down at his shiny shoes to refrain from looking at your crestfallen expression.

“seriously, fred? you want to talk?” you scoffed in disbelief, “alright, let’s talk, let’s talk about how you left me, let’s talk about how you broke your promise, let’s talk about how you broke me,”

fred winced at your wavering voice, “‘m sorry, darling,”

“are you really, fred? because- because it’s been almost two years and you—“ you sighed, wiping away your tears to no avail, it’s still falling. instead, you asked him the question that’s been on your mind ever since, “why did you leave me?”

“i was scared,” he started, cracking his knuckles. a mannerism of his when he’s feeling anxious.

“scared of what exactly?” you urged, determined to know what he was so afraid of that he had to run away on your wedding day.

“of you…” he mumbled, looking up at you. he wished he hadn’t because he didn’t know it was possible for you to look even broken than before.

“me?” your voice cracked, “so it’s my fault, now?”

fred shook his head, getting frustrated at himself, “no, no. i was scared that, if you married me, you’d get hurt because i might not live up to your expectations.”

“bullshit, fred!” you cried, earning a few looks from the bystanders, you didn’t care, and nor did fred, “why? don’t you think i’m getting hurt right now?”

fred felt his tears in his eyes, “i’ve had so many doubts, so many questions, y/n,” you were about to reply when he raised hand, “and no, it wasn’t about you, just please, listen,”

he sucked in a breath, “y/n, what if i said yes?”

“we would’ve been happy, we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” you whimpered, feeling the heartbreak you’ve once experienced over and over again, “did you even really love me?”

“i did, i still do, but you deserve so much better than me, y/n” fred whispered, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you again.

you shook your head, “stop lying, fred."

“no, y/n! what if i said yes and i wouldn’t be able to keep my vows?”

“well, fred, you didn’t even get to marry me and you already broke the promise! now, tell me, did that answer your questions?” you asked, “did it, fred?”

fred let a tear fall, “no, no it didn’t. it just made me realize how hard it was to lose you,”

you sniffled, staring up at the sky to keep the tears in bay, “i loved you, fred! i loved you and you left me. i loved you… and i still do, and i hate myself for it because no matter how hard i try to convince myself that i’ve moved on, i haven’t. fred, i still look for you in everyone in hopes that i could somehow get some closure… and it doesn’t help that i see you in everything as well; i remember you when i see a plate of pancakes, knowing how you love them with chocolate, i remember you when it rains because we used to dance around in it like there’s no one around. it hurts, freddie. it hurts because i see you everywhere because we used to do everything together.”

“and i regret it, alright? i regret letting you go. it has been eating me alive ever since. i couldn’t function well without you,” he whispered, “and all i’m asking is for forgiveness, y/n.”

you just stared at him, hiccuping as you continued to cry. you wanted to leap into his warm embrace and forgive him. you wanted to take him back. you wanted to kiss him. you just wanted to be in his arms again. you just wanted to be with him again.

but he hurt you. he hurt you in many ways you’ve never expected. he broke you. the same guy who swore to your father that he’ll never hurt you. the same guy who promised to marry you and spend the rest of your life with.

fred saw the hesitation and hurt in your eyes so he sighed, “i’m sorry, goop. i’m sorry for being such a coward. i was never ready to say goodbye… i never was,” he took one last glance at you before leaving you once again.

you sobbed as you watched his figure retreat slowly. you didn’t care if there were people looking at you with concern and pity. you didn’t care if someone had accidentally bumped into you. your mind was too busy with the thoughts of fred, so you apparated back into your flat, trusting george to take care of teddy for a while.

fred’s heart broke even more as he heard your distant sob. he let the tears gathered in his eyes fall. all he wanted to do was to bring you in his arms and shower you with his love, make up for all the lost time, but he knew that he deserved the pain. he deserved it because he hurt you, he broke you, and he can never forgive himself for that.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Little Bones 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: So, I’ve made some positive changes in my life. I am working away at original work, I’m drinking more water, I’m taking my dog on big walks and being more active, and I’m doing my best. So, I was struck with an old yearning to return to Birch. I’ll be updating here and there as I feel and won’t be pushing myself like I did before because I realise how unhealthy and stressful it was on me.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: It gets so sticky down here

A city girl in a small town. What could be sadder than that?

In the city, life went fast. In a place like Birch, the days dragged by as if to remind you of how helpless you were beneath the unyielding and inevitable tick of the clock. The hand wound around and around as you waited for what would never happen. The dreams of your childhood eroded beneath the rolling years leaving trail of crumbs you could not follow back to the beginning.

A woman just beyond her prime trapped in an antiquated career. The empty aisles between the shelves full of books bespoke of a bygone era. The forgotten library at the far end of the main street rarely saw a new face and those familiar were fewer by the day. The staff had thinned to three of you; Melissa was older than you with a daughter nearly your age and Colin was close to retirement if not well past.

You got on well enough, as well as you could given Colin’s faulty hearing aid, and Melissa’s wandering mind. They meant well but they shared the lethargy of the old small town.

You weren’t nostalgic for the smog or the flashing lights of the city, but there was no life to this place. Only the impending reach of death rattling closer in the roar of the motorcycles and the rumble of the old railroad that ran through the middle of town.

The air nipped at your cheeks as you approached the library. A morning of yawning had you craving a latte from the bakery and the quiet girl behind the counter cheerfully steamed the foam before handing it over. Everyone in this town was familiar, everyone knew everyone else, and yet, you still felt like an outsider.

You felt the heat of the cup through your glove and you looked up as you sensed two figures by one of the thick columns of the library façade. Melissa stood chatting with her daughter, hugging her sweater around her as she’d left her coat inside. You peeked up at the grey sky as snow threatened at any moment with the mid-November bite.

As you thought to pass them and leave their conversation uninterrupted, your name drew you back.

“I was just telling my daughter,” Mel began as she waved you over with a chatter of her teeth. “About that podcast you mentioned. She loves those old Hollywood stars.”

“Oh,” you blew the steam away from the lid of your drink as you neared, “It’s alright. The stories are worth the narrator’s schtick.”

“Yeah? I’ve been closing at the bar and I like to listen to something once it clears out.” Mel’s daughter said. “You wouldn’t mind giving me the name?”

You told her the title of the podcast and helped her find it on Spotify to follow for later. Mel shivered and stood closer to her daughter who was bundled up against the onslaught of Birch’s blustering winter. You knew about her too.

She was friendly but you saw in her a cynicism more common to city folk. You got along but you were weary of her associations. The local club of crass bikers were neither subtle nor savoury. In the city, it was easy enough to ignore the patch and all that came along with it. The seedy figures were distilled by the broader population but not in Birch. There, the club was the town.

“Mom, you can’t stay out here.” She poked her mother’s arm. “It’s too cold.”

“Little better in the library.” You grumbled and sipped your latte. “The radiator’s broken again.”

“You mean Colin broke it trying to fix what wasn’t broken,” Melissa shook her head, “and I’m fine, dear. I’ve spent more than fifty winters in Birch and been through worse than this.”

“Yes, but you were younger then--” Her voice dwindled as she turned her head to listen to the distant roar of exhaust.

You followed her gaze and noted the way her forehead creased at the noise. She swallowed and turned to watch as a dark rider turned onto the main road from the highway. It was the man who kept her entwined with the club, the one who marked her latent authority over all others. The only one who outranked her.

She swore and looked over her shoulder at her mother. Her mother touched her arm. It was a telling and surprising moment. Her expression read of all the disgust you felt for the bikers.

At least a dozen bikes followed the first and Bucky raised his glove hand to signal the others to slow as he pulled up to the curb just before the library steps. You backed away as his breath clouded around him and he waved Mel’s daughter closer. He craned to kiss her as she bent, her fingers picking at her jeans as she did, then he nodded his greeting to Mel.

“What are you doing?” He asked tersely.

“Can’t I see my mother?” The daughter challenged and the biker scoffed.

“Of course,” he killed his engine and the others mimicked him in fine order. “I wouldn’t keep ya from her but you didn’t tell me you were going downtown.”

“You were gone.”

You listened to the conversation as you stayed close to the column, thinking of sneaking up the steps into the library before you heard too much. Your curiosity had you searching the crowd of leather jackets as their wearers tried to conceal their impatience with their boss’ impromptu halt.

Among them, a large man sat casually in his seat, his feet planted on the cold pavement as he rolled slightly back and forth. Strands of his thick blond hair were drawn back beneath his helmet into a thick braid as the rest hung around his shoulders. His patch was different from the rest, an old Norse symbol you didn’t know the meaning of. There were several others who wore the same cut, including a dark-haired woman who chatted with another golden-haired rider.

You tasted your latte again, it cooled quickly as the cold air battered the cardboard. As you sipped and sidled around the column, your eyes were caught by another pair. The very man you’d just been watching was now focused on you. You stopped, hoping like some frightened animal that your stillness would ward off his attention.

“Barnes,” the broad blonde man spoke as he finally looked away. “You’ve not even introduced me to your woman. I assume that’s why we’ve stopped.”

Bucky shifted on his bike and sighed. You hadn’t expected the man to have an accent. His voice was deep but the subtle lilt defined his tone as unforgettable. The dark-haired biker of Birch rolled his eyes before he pointed to his girl and gave her name, then to Melissa as he explained their relation.

You sidestepped around the column to the stairs of the library and turned away. You were stopped again by the same voice.

“And that one? The quiet one?”

You spun back slowly and looked at each biker, many unconcerned with conversation, as a few stared back at you or at the viking-like rider. Bucky shook his head and furrowed his brow at Melissa’s daughter. She hesitated before she gave your name coolly referred to you as just another librarian. She was trying to deflect the focus and you were thankful for it. You wondered at her own blatant spite for that breed of man.

“No one important,” Bucky grabbed his keys. “Come on, honey. I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I can walk.”

“Get on.” He said gruffly and turned the keys.

The motorcycles thrummed back to life in a cacophony. You flinched and turned back to the library doors. Your lunch was almost over as it was and the cold was starting to make your head hurt. You heard the bikes tear off as you reached the door and you turned back to watch as Melissa ran up after you.

You held the door for her and paused as you watched riders tear away. The blonde remained and watched you with a smirk. He winked as he slowly rolled after the others and pushed off. You followed Melissa inside and pulled the door shut tightly behind you.

“I’ll finish the returns,” you slipped past her, “you should try to warm up.”

“Thanks, dear,” she rubbed her hands together as she neared the curve desk you all shared, “God, that man makes my skin crawl.”

“But your daughter--”

“She handles him as well as she can,” Melissa sat and logged onto her boxy PC, “she’s stronger than me, that’s for sure.”

You sat and chewed on the thought. You just assumed her daughter leaped at the opportunity to date the most powerful man in town. What else could a girl from Birch hope for?

“She doesn’t…”

“He keeps her safe, I guess,” Melissa muttered, “I don’t say nothing against it. I won’t, for her sake as much as mine.”

You lowered your lashes and turned to the stack of unscanned books. You took the first and opened the cover.

“I didn’t mean to-- I don’t really know anything about the… bikers.”

“Hope you never do, dear,” she said listlessly. “Those men, if you can call them that, are the lowest form of humanity.”

💀

You always took the same route home. It wasn’t very far. You lived in the studio apartment above Tammy’s, the clothes shop where all the local seniors got their outdated outfits. The store itself smelled like a retirement home but you were not often disturbed by the activity below. Like everything in Birch, it wasn’t very exciting.

Your walk took you past the diner and along the stretch across the street from the town’s sentinel, The Asp. The bar was the only place in town which always seemed to be bursting with life. You had an old Chevrolet parked behind the building but you never drove to work, only on your odd trip to the city to get away from the suffocation malaise of main street.

That day as you fumbled to get your earbud back in, you heard a whistle. You got a few comments now and again about your habit of blocking out the townsfolk and the town itself with your music. In the city, you didn’t just say hi to every person you walked by and you had little inclination to change that habit.

You kept going and the whistle came louder. You heard boots hammer across the street and you stopped as the earbud once more fell out of your ear.

“Eh, kitten,” you turned to the long-haired biker. A golden hammer hung from a chain and peaked out from the open collar of his jacket. He tucked his hands in his pockets as you faced him with blatant irritation. “We didn’t get to meet properly, did we?”

You stared at him and let out a foggy breath. You leaned on your left heel and shook your head with a scoff.

“No.” You said and turned back along your path.

“No?” He repeated and his footsteps followed closely. “I’m only being friendly, kitten. I’m not from around here and I’m just tryn’ ta make a few friends.”

“I’m not interested,” you march onward and stop short.

You realised if you went any further, you’d lead him straight to your door. You didn’t need him knowing where you lived. You veered off and crossed the street, he stayed close just like your shadow. You’d stop by the liquor store and wait him out there.

“Where are you going, kitten?”

“Can’t you take a hint?” You nearly tangled your own legs as you pivoted sharply. “I’m sorry for your luck that you’ve ended up in Birch but I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you.” You grasped the handle of the liquor store door. “Oh, and my name isn’t kitten.”

“I know your name. I remember it.” He grinned and you swung open the door. He caught it behind you and you let out a frustrated sigh as he trailed you inside. “It’s almost as gorgeous as you.”

“Do those work on the women where you’re from?”

You stared at the shelf of fruit wines and tried to ignore him. You were starting to build a real thirst for the bottles.

“I don’t meet a lot of women like you, kitten.”

“Would you stop it--” You blinked and stomped further down the aisle.

“Thor. My name’s Thor.” He offered gallantly. “But you can call me whatever you wish.”

“I could think of a few things.” You bent down to read the label of a wine from the Maritimes.

“Mmm, my thoughts run wild, kitten.” He purred and you looked up at him in confusion.

You swiped the bottle from the shelf and stood straight. His eyes clung to your ass and as you turned, they swiftly found your chest. Neither were well-hidden by your jacket, even as thick as it was. Your weight often deterred the whistles and the leers, but not this time.

“How many ways can I tell you to go away?” You hissed and move to step around him. He turned and watched you pass. He shivered as you brushed against him unwillingly in the narrow aisle.

“So, you got a man?” He questioned as again he tailed you to the counter. You grabbed a small bottle of Vodka from the rack beside it and dug out your wallet.

“Does it matter?”

He bent and leaned on the counter beside you and you ignored his attempt to look you in the face. You paid and took your change as the clerk bagged your purchase.

“To me, everything about you matters, kitten.”

You shot him a sharp look and took your paper bag. You hugged it close and glared at him as he straightened. “Stop calling me that.”

“Here,” he gripped the top of the bag, “I’ll help.”

“I’ll smash this bottle over your head,” you threatened. “Now I’ve told you to leave me alone.”

He chuckled and dipped his head. His hair slid down the leather and he scratched his thick beard.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I like to play.”

He looked at you again, his blue eyes twinkling. You were startled as suddenly he ‘woofed’’ at you. You backed away and he kept close as is to chase you, ready to salivate like the dog he mimicked.

“Get away!” You shouted and raced for the door.

His barks turned to laughter and the bell announced your stagger out onto the street. You didn’t look back as you charged across the street and narrowly missed being mowed down by Linda Karling. You reached the other side as you heard the liquor store door clatter a second time. You sensed his shadow as you turned down a side street.

You walked until you were certain he wasn’t following. The cold blew up your jacket as you mapped out your way back. You could sneak around the back of the clothes shop and sneak up the metal escape. You peered back and forth, the old house just at the town limits nearly faded into the dimming sky and main street shrouded by brick walls.

“Hey,” a small voice surprised you as a woman neared, walking the same route as you. “Whatcha doing all the way up here?”

You stared at her dumbly. It was the woman who worked at the bakery. She hung out with the club too.

“Nothing, I…” You grabbed your earbuds and put them back in your ears. “I was listening to my music and got carried away.”

“Oh?” she chittered like a mouse. “No one comes this way. Only me to see my ma.”

You nodded at her and gave an awkward smile. “Mmhmm. Well, thanks. I probably would’ve wandered right out of town.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” she said forlornly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“For your latte. And you always get the banana loaf when it’s on special and tomorrow’s Tuesday.”

You sniffed and rubbed your neck. You hated that. You hated that everyone knew you, that everyone knew what you did, and that they assumed they knew everything else. But she was sweet and you couldn’t hate her for never being freed from the prison of Birch.

“Oh yeah,” you squeezed the paper bag so it crinkled and pulled out your phone with your free hand, “tomorrow.”

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