#I AM SHAKING WHOEVER HELPED DECIDE THAT CHIRP GETS A DAUGHTER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phykios · 3 years

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honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now.

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really.

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them.

God damn she’s a fucking idiot.

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous.

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.”

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne.

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented.

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air…

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before.

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern.

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?”

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake.

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation.

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects.

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate.

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.”

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints.

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father.

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss.

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter.

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye.

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces.

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin.

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day.

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards.

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.”

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden.

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls.

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns.

A huge mistake.

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He’s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.”

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.”

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.”

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son.

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?”

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says.

“Zoe?”

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod.

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head.

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself.

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her.

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying.

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.”

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy.

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy.

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.”

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet.

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable.

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more.

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too.

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always.

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident.

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something?

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s.

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.”

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest.

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.”

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry.

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked.

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--”

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face.

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.”

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly.

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up.

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.”

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees.

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still.

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover.

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying.

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.”

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath.

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth.

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?”

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.”

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”

She spins on her heels, and walks away.

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.”

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go.

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.

Her stomach rolls again.

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.”

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much.

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him.

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on.

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster.

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.”

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.”

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says.

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable.

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.”

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.”

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays.

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help.

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall.

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting.

Two voices she knows intimately.

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock.

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again.

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head.

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.”

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.”

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less.

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside.

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly.

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it.

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not.

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier.

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again.

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf.

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying.

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain.

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully.

Good. He’s gone.

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick.

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out.

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror.

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

#this one's a long boi folks #long and sad #but this is as bad as it gets! we've hit rock bottom!#it's all uphill from here i promise #pjo au #ballet au #percabeth #pjo fic #the rivalry ends here

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browniefox · 3 years

Text

Poker Playing Family Time

@wrightfamilyweek day 6 - Routine.

The Wrights enjoy some bonding time at the Borscht Bowl Club. Can also be read on AO3 right here :)

oOo

It’s kind of a miracle that, despite it all - despite Daddy working five days a week at the Borscht Bowl Club and the other two with his Secret Project, and then Trucy (once again, in the new school year) trying to do a single show every-other weekend and then school on the weekdays - that there’s still ever a chance for Trucy to help Daddy out with his poker games.

Daddy has made some kind of deal with the Borscht Bowl Club over the years so that he’ll only take on the more serious poker players once a month; a saturday evening, the last of the month, when Trucy didn’t have a show. Trucy was more than willing to move around her schedule at the Wonder Bar as she needed to go with Daddy on those days. Daddy had told the staff he just liked bringing his daughter with him, his good luck charm. It was normal, after all these years, and none of the staff nor the usuals so much as blinked anymore at her trailing after him.

Usually, Daddy drives places now, but on Big Poker Nights, when he’s with Trucy, they walk from the office to the club. They leave right after Trucy gets home from school, walking down the street, chatting about Trucy’s school day and the bits and pieces of Daddy’s Secret Mission he’s willing or able to tell her. She rattles off the countries in the North American continent with Daddy checking her answers on the practice sheet. When she’s done, Daddy complains about annoying people he’s had to meet with or talk to - never by name - and practices a heavily-edited version of some speech with each recital of it getting goofier and goofier until they’re both laughing as they walk through the club doors, out of the warm sun and into the cold.

“Evening Phoenix, Truce,” Ms. Vanessa greets them, and Daddy makes a token effort to quiet down his laughter, “There’s an early competitor tonight. I know you don’t like other challengers on the big-shot nights, but he’s dumb and paid top dollar, so how could we say no?”

“Well, I suppose a warm-up can’t hurt,” Daddy shrugs. He looks over at Trucy, eyes half-lidded, his performance appearance in place since they left home. He nods over to the Hydeout, “You want to watch this one too, or stay up here and work on homework?”

“I’ll come along, Daddy!” Trucy chirps.

“Alright then, right this way, Wrights.” Vanessa bows comically low and leads them to the poker room. They pass by the piano on the way, and Trucy’s backpack is place on top of it. She waves to the staff and they all wave back, most of them smiling at seeing her. Daddy has said they like her more than they like him, and he’s right.

After all the times she’s been down there, Trucy could find her way to the Hydeout in the dark, which she kind of always does every time, considering the dim lighting on the stairs.

“He talked a big game when he showed up earlier today.” Vanessa says to Daddy, and he nods.

“So you’re throwing me a soft ball to start with tonight, huh?”

“Now, you of all people should know better than to assume anything about an opponent before you see them.” Vanessa half-heartedly reprimands.

“But Daddy’s gonna blow him out of the water, huh?” Trucy says and gets a chuckle from Vanessa.

“Yeah, he probably will.”

The dealer stands during the poker games, but Trucy’s extra chair is already down here. Like the other two, it’s a swivel chair, and she hops into it and twirls around a few times.

“I thought I was going up against Phoenix Wright, unbeaten Poker Champion, not some kid.” The man who’s already sitting at the table sniffs, and Daddy finally comes in through the door.

“Sorry, but these days Phoenix Wright’s also a full-time dad, I hope you can pardon my little darling being here.” It’s worded like an apology, but it’s clear that Daddy is absolutely not at all sorry about it. Trucy smiles innocently, like a perfect angel, and the man turns up his nose with a sniff and a ‘hmph’. Ah, so he’s going to be one of those guys.

“Really, letting a kid in here? Your own daughter? Well, ‘darling’, I hope you like watching your dear old dad’s reputation come to an end.” The man brags. Daddy just blinks slowly at the man, unimpressed, while Vanessa rolls her eyes and takes her place at the side of the table. Trucy rolls her chair to be next to Daddy and he ruffles her hair.

“Mr. Allen, Mr. Wright, are you both ready?” Vanessa asks, and the game starts after they both nod.

Trucy mostly keeps her eyes closed. Slipping into her tell-catching ‘mode’ comes so easily at this poker table, but she needs to be on her top form for the real competitor later tonight. She listens as the cards are shuffled, as soothing and familiar as the sound of rain, and then are dealt out. She half-listens to the match as she leans against her daddy. She opens her eyes every-so-often, mostly to see where the chips are standing at the moment. Trucy catches some of Mr. Allen’s tells, big and noticeable movements most of the time that there’s absolutely no way Daddy misses.

It ends with Mr. Allen angrily flipping the table over and spitting vulgarities at Daddy while he cover’s Trucy’s ears, even though they both know she’/ already heard all those words.

“Well he seemed nice,” Daddy jokes and Trucy giggles, “Alright, let’s get some borscht, yeah?”

They spend the next four hours on the piano. Trucy is allowed - encouraged, even - to plunk around on the instrument whenever and however it suits her fancy. A small stack of extra cash grows next to him from people who refuse to listen to her daddy’s terrible music while eating. Trucy gets some homework done, taking up nearly the entire table next to Daddy that they’d used to eat dinner. As Trucy makes her way through worksheet after worksheet, the staff member on the other side of the table cycles through whoever is best at the subject. Math homework is always fun, because it always creates a whole crew of people ignoring the tables they’re supposed to be waiting and the jobs they’re supposed to be doing as they try to solve the equations. Not that Trucy usually needs all that help, but they seem to like to try either way.

You can always tell the moment when the big, important player enters the building. The staff suddenly stand up straight, all eyes on the person, ready to wait on that person like a king. Daddy gets tense, but that kind of tension nobody but Trucy ever seems to notice.

This time, it’s a large woman with a long braid of colored hair. She looks around the club with a sort of honest curiosity that’s hard to come by with people like her, and when she spots Daddy at the piano, the woman smiles and comes right over.

“Oh, Phoenix Wright! Oh my, the legend himself, in the flesh! Well, I thought I’d never be here, but here I am, and there you are! Oh, right at the piano, just like they said you’d be! You can’t play, right? Or is it ‘Wright’? Hehe, do you get it?” The woman chuckles at her own pun. Daddy gives a shrug.

“I hope you didn’t come with too many expectations. Rumors have a way of getting a little out of hand.” Daddy says. Daddy never tells his challengers how true the undefeated poker champion title really is.

“Well, I mean, six years undefeated? It’s a little much to try and sell, huh?” The woman winks at Daddy and laughs again.

“Has it really been six years already. Ah, time, you cruel cruel mistress,” Daddy mourns, playing a chord on the piano. By now Vanessa has come over, and Daddy stands up, slouching with his hands in his hoodie pocket, “Well, Ms. Jackie, shall we get this show on the road?”

“Oh, of course, of course. I mean, I’ll probably stay around and try the food afterwards - do they really only have borscht here? I’ve never had it. Is it any good? What does it taste like? - but I mean, why stall? I’m so excited to see the legendary Wright in action.” Ms. Jackie rambles on as Daddy and Vanessa slowly start to head towards the Hydeout for the second time that night. Ms. Jackie walks right next to Daddy, talking about how she’s from out of state and so very excited when she heard the rumors - undefeated! Six years! How remarkable! How insane! How intriguing! - and now she was here and she was so very very excited.

It isn’t until both Daddy and Ms. Jackie have taken their seats that Ms. Jackie seems to even notice Trucy as she takes her own, the chair already right next to Daddy.

“Oh, and who is this little angel?! Oh my, isn’t she just precious with her little cape!” Ms. Jackie coos to Trucy.

“I’m Trucy Wright. I like watching my daddy play poker. I hope that’s okay.” Trucy tilts her head and smiles sweetly. Ms. Jackie practically melts.

“Ooooh, how sweeeeet! Well, I’m Jackie Blackerly, sweetie.” Jackie reaches across the table and Trucy shakes her hand kindly. She likes Jackie, she decides. But liking the opponent has nothing to do with the poker match itself, unfortunately, and Trucy doesn’t tell Jackie that she’s well out of her league. Maybe Daddy holds the champion title, but they both know that it’s really Trucy who never loses against the high-ranking opponents.

“Is it okay if I sit here? I’m Daddy’s good luck charm, you know.” Trucy tilts her head.

“Oh of course, of course! Oh my, nobody ever mentioned Mr. Wright has such an adorable daughter!”

“Are you both ready to start?” Vanessa asks. The cards are beyond well shuffled by now. Daddy nods, and then just like that, the warm and pleasant emotions disappear from Jackie’s face, like they’ve just been shut off, a blank mask over them.

“I’m ready.”

The cards are dealt, Trucy’s hand wraps around her Daddy’s arm, and just like that, the game, the tells, the truth, everything just slips into focus. She’s done this hundreds of times now, the world almost moving at a crawl to watch the little twitches and microexpressions. The code for telling Daddy what to do, a squeezing of his arm for different amount of times, is simple enough, and basically muscle-memory. Part of Trucy thinks she’d actually struggle a bit to do poker on her own and forget that she’s the one who’s supposed to actually be making the decisions and playing the round, not just delivering the information. She’s played this team version of the game many many more times than she’s ever played it ‘normally’.

Their winning the game is practically inevitable, but to be fair to Jackie, she clearly knows what she’s doing as well. Her tells are subtle, small, and take Trucy a lot of focus to find.

It’s a shame, really. Trucy had been hoping to maybe talk some more with Jackie after the game, but tonight is not going to be one of those. Already, Trucy’s head is pounding like the beating of a drum, feeling drained from the hard work. She curls up in her chair as the results are called, pretending she’s a little girl who is just tired and sleepy instead of someone trying to block out the sound of Jackie congratulating Daddy. Her chattiness, something Trucy had found fun and endearing, is now the last thing Trucy needs. Jackie heads up while Vanessa cleans up the cards and Daddy gently rubs Trucy’s back.

“How you doing, kiddo?” Daddy whispers. Trucy shakes her head. She feels him shift next to her, and then him saying, “Vanessa, think Trucy and I are gonna head out now.”

“Poor kids all tired again, huh?” Vanessa says. With her eyes closed, Trucy can’t see any tells or anything, but sometimes she wonders if Vanessa has caught on to their little trick here, “I’ll finish up here, get the kid back home and in bed.”

“Thank you, Ms. Vanessa.” Trucy says, making an effort to open her eyes up, the dim lighting of the Hydeout not yet searing with the migraine still in its early stages. Daddy slips his hand into Trucy’s, and together they go back up to the bar.

Trucy makes a token effort to help Daddy get her homework together from where it’s strewn out all over the table. Ms. Jackie comes over and is saying something, a lot of ‘Oh, are you leaving already? Oh my I was just amazed, you were amazing down there! Have you always been a poker player? Now that I’m thinking, you look sort of familiar. Have I seen you somewhere?’ And Daddy says ‘Haha, yeah, gotta get my little Trucy to bed, you know. You clearly know what you’re doing. Nah, but I’ve always been great at bluffing. Must be your imagination, I’m nobody important.’

She sneaks a peak at Daddy at that moment and sees his little tell, looking down with his eyes shielded by his hat, a sort of melancholy smirk marring his face, a little twitch of his fingers. He’s lying. He was somebody important; maybe not in the big grand scheme, maybe not a world-famous magician, but he was important to some people. Trucy wants to say “you’re my Daddy, you’re important to me,” but the pain in her head spikes and she squeezes her eyes shut again.

After a moment, Daddy grabs her hand again, and she keeps her eyes closed as he leads her out of the white and annoying noise of the bar and out onto the street. It’s still warm, even at night, and she realizes she forgot to grab a grape-juice bottle. Daddy seems to notice the same thing, letting go and telling her to wait there as he runs back inside.

He’s back in a second, the cold bottle pressed into Trucy’s hand, and she puts it against her forehead as they walk. It’s beautifully numbing to the pain there, and she zones out, focusing on the feeling as they walk down the street, completely silently this time, back to the office.

Recently, after so much practice, Trucy’s been getting better. She doesn’t always have a migraine after games, especially against the easier players. But Ms. Jackie had been good, and so Trucy is tired again. She wonders if her grandpa would’ve been able to teach her how to do this without getting a headache if he was still alive, he always seemed to understand Trucy’s little trick, but there is no way to know now.

When they get to the office, Trucy goes right to her room. The blinds were already closed earlier, before they left, just in case, and the curtains are closed to further block out any of the last beams of light. Her room is almost pitch-black. Daddy takes the bottle from her and hands her the little rice-filled frog they keep in the freezer, and the froggy friend rests on her forehead. Some medicine and a glass of water is placed in her bedside table, and she makes an effort to take it. It doesn’t always help, but sometimes it does something.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Truce.” Daddy whispers. Trucy cracks her eyes open, and from the light of the open door just barely catches Daddy blowing her a kiss.

She’s happy she’s able to help Daddy. She doesn’t care if she gets a terrible headache from it, because he’ll take care of her until it’s over, and even through the pain, she can’t wait to spend time with him again next month.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #trucy wright #wrightweek21 #fanfiction #fanfic #browniefox writes

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hoonieistrash · 5 years

Text

astilbe

pairing: persephone! jimin x hades! reader

word count: 8k

genre: FLUFF, a bit of angst

tags: jungkook has a crush on the reader so angst for kookoo :(, soft fluff, flowers, female pronouns, not like the tale where hades took or kidnapped persephone, you are an awkward bean, jimin is a softie for you :(

synopsis: Whoever said the god of the underworld was a man? No, no. You were a goddess, the goddess that your brother trapped in the land of the dead. Jimin was the complete opposite of you, the god of spring and the son of Demeter. He only heard about you through his mother and the other gods and goddesses and he was mad, they really did not give any justice to your beauty, not one bit.

alternative synopsis: Jimin was in awe with you and being the curious thing he is, decided to follow you to the Underworld.

author’s note: It’s 5 AM when I finished this :)) THS IS MY FIRST LONG FIC I PUBLISHED SO YEAH ALSO, this is unedited and English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I’m sorry :// I just love persephone and hades :( JIMIN IS A CUTIE and IM SORRY KOOKIE :(( aNYWAYS! I hope you enjoy this!

You sighed in your throne made of cold hard steel inside your dark throne-room, waiting for any mortal that committed a crime so bad that you, the goddess of the underworld, have to judge for yourself. You were dressed in a black robe as black soft silk flowed behind you while fine jewelry adorned you to match your status of Queen of the Underworld and Goddess of Death. A black crown sat on your head elegantly.

The atmosphere was like any other day in the Underworld, melancholy and the stench of death filling the air. You looked at your side as you see your loyal companion, Cerberus, sleeping in the dark corner. The poor pup was bored, nothing to do but sleep, eat and scare mortals.

“Mistress!” You heard the echo of your friend’s voice in the halls before even entering your throne room. Your cold eyes turned to the main entrance, expression hard and unreadable.

With a bang of the heavy steel door, scaring and waking up Cerberus, in came your friend and servant, but you did not like calling him that but the latter did not care, dare to say that he even liked it, that little masochist. The mortals called him Thanatos but you liked his real name better, Jungkook. You like calling him Kookie, his bashful expression always amusing you greatly.

The young daemon entered with all of his glory, two large magnificent black wings perched on his back as his black robe fluttering below his knees. Big doe eyes staring at you, a large smile on his lips, confusing you. Normally, Jungkook did not like showing these emotions, too stubborn, saying that he was a daemon and did not exhibit such feelings.

He ran towards you making Cerberus perked up, his three head looking at the winged spirit. Jungkook looked at him and searched in his bag, throwing a lump of large meat towards the huge canine. The three heads fought each other for the meat on the side as Jungkook stopped in front of you, kneeling in one knee.

“What’s all the fuss about, Jungkook?”

He merely smiled and searched again in his bag, giving a scroll to his mistress, “Hermes gave this to me”

You arched a fine brow at him, taking the scroll from him and read it. Eyebrows furrowing at every word you read but Jungkook did not notice, blabbering in front of you.

“–He just gave it to me and left, I think that Zeus is finally agreeing to let us expand our land, Mistress! It would be-”

The loud noise of the paper being torn echoed in the quiet room, Jungkook’s wide eyes stared at his furious Mistress and frowned.

“I-It’s not an agreement, is it?…” He asked quietly, a lump forming in his throat when he saw you stand up, eyes colder and deadlier than the River Styx.

“That fool! If he thinks that he can keep me locked in here then he’s greatly mistaken! I’ll destroy him!” You screamed, black flames bursting around you startling Jungkook and Cerberus. The former looked at you with scared eyes, “M-Mistress…”

You turned to him, eyes filled with fury but it softened when you saw his scared eyes, your black flames calmed down. You sat again, defeated by your younger brother.

Jungkook bit his lips at the sight of you, hating the way you slumped in your throne. You always wore yourself as a dignified and noble character, exuding an ethereal beauty, not like the mortals described you, but this sight made Jungkook want to tear Zeus himself.

He could not help but fall for you in these past few thousands of years, you always helped people and brought justice to the fallen ones but Zeus trapped you here in the Underworld, only being permitted to go to Earth every 300 years and it was only for a day.

“Leave me, Jungkook” Your weakened voice broke him. He rose up from his knelt position and looked at you with anguished

“B-But Mistress! I can help you! Please don’t shut me out–”

“I said, leave me. Do not make me repeat it thrice.” Your firm voice cut him off. He swallowed the lump on his throat and nodded, hanging his head in defeat.

“O-Of course, Mistress.”

Jungkook went out of the room, the heavy doors closing behind him and left you alone with Cerberus who was whimpering on the side.

Cerberus walked up to you slowly, his whimpers catching your attention as you turned to him with sad eyes. He slumped his three heads on your lap, your soft hands caressing one of the heads.

“If my little brother really thinks he can keep me here then I’ll make him realize just how much I belong here after all”

Jimin sat in a great meadow filled with flowers, picking pretty ones with a gentle smile as his soft blond hair fluttered with the wind. He hummed a soft tune, matching the serene atmosphere around him. He was a young god, son of Demeter and Zeus, some mortals called him Persephone while his mother called him Kore. He always hated the name his mother called him. Demeter always wanted a daughter but her dreams were shattered when Jimin came.

Demeter raised him like a daughter, bringing him pretty robes and jewelry fit for a goddess. He liked them actually but the fact that his mother brought it for her daughter and not him hurt.

His smile faltered when he remembered his mother but quickly masked it and continued to distract himself with the flowers, one hand clutching softly a bouquet of it while one caressed the planted ones.

“Jiminie~” A deep voice called out, his smile widened at the familiarity of it. He looked up and saw his best friend, Hermes, but his real name was Taehyung.

“Taehyung! Nice of you to accompany me this fine afternoon~” Jimin chirped, standing up gently, Taehyung landed in front of him a bit clumsily with his winged shoes, his golden winged staff swinging around almost hitting Jimin in the face.

“Woah there. Easy with that thing” Jimin teased, pushing it away before it hit his face. Taehyung smiled sheepishly at him before composing himself, blowing an icy blue hair away from his bronzed face

“How’s my favorite god doing?” Taehyung asked, looking at Jimin’s hand which held a beautiful arrangement of flowers and his messy golden hair with small flowers attached to it.

Jimin’s soft blue eyes rolled at him, shaking his head at the mischievousness of his best friend.

“Flower picking, as usual, Taehyung” And then went back to his flowers. Taehyung smiled sadly at his words and sat beside him.

“You know your mother is just protective, that is all” The young messenger tried to cheer up. Jimin smiled at him weakly, “I know Tae… I know…”

The taller god frowned at his smile then pursed his lips. Thinking for a moment as he studied the young god, then stood up, dusting his white immaculate robe. Jimin stared at him with confusion at the sudden action, “You’re going already?”

Taehyung smirked at him and said, “You mean, we’re going already.”

Jimin gaped at him, he knows that Taehyung was mischievous and was always up to tricks and pranks but he did not think that it was to this extent.

“M-Mother will have your head if she found out you took me away from here”

“If she finds out~”

The young god shook his head, not wanting Taehyung to get in problem with his mother. He was the only companion he has and he does not want him to go away too, forbidden by his mother.

Taehyung rolled his eyes at his friend, “Come on Jimin! The quicker you get up, the quicker we can get back”

Jimin gulped at that, looking around the meadow which he only knew since he was but a young sapling. He looked up again to his nodding best friend who was urging him to stand up.

“F-Fine… Only if we get back before mother gets back!”

Taehyung smirked at that, “You’re talking to the fastest god, darlin’~”

Jimin stifled a laugh at his words and stood up. Taehyung waved his staff and in a blink of an eye, they were gone. The young god looked around at the new meadow they were in and behind them was a forest. Jimin admired the landscape, it was certainly different from the meadow he knows, it was vibrant with more color and it has a forest next to it.

Taehyung looked at Jimin with a nervous smile, “You like it? We can go somewhere else if you want–”

“No! This is perfect! It’s so pretty, Taehyung… Thank you” Jimin uttered out. Taehyung smiled at him, his best friend was too kind and too easy to impress that it hurts his sly heart.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Do what you want to do, Jiminie~”

Jimin grinned at him and jogged to the meadow, sitting down at the softer grass, caressing the more vibrant flowers and flowers he only knew from the scrolls his mother has. He was eager to know more about them, picking the flowers unfamiliar to him, humming once again but more cheerful this time.

Taehyung smiled softly at his preoccupied friend, he was about to sit down beside the blond god when he heard the bell that alerts him when Zeus wants him to deliver something. The blue-haired god groaned at it catching Jimin’s attention who looked up at him with big eyes.

“Sorry, Jiminie. I have to go somewhere real quick. I’ll be back before you know it! Don’t go anywhere!” Taehyung said and flew off before Jimin can even say anything. The young god was left alone in the middle of nowhere as he blinks, not believing that his best friend just left him.

He sighed at that and shook his head, telling himself that Taehyung will be back shortly and that he doesn’t need to worry. He went back to picking the flowers. But then Jimin’s eyes caught a movement in the dark forest, he looks up and his breath was caught in his throat, he stood up, trying to get a closer look at the beauty.

Going in the forest was the Goddess of Underworld in all of your glory, silk robes and fine jewelry adorned your body but it was not as fine as your beauty. Jimin never saw anyone so beautiful yet look so sad. Your long (h/c) hair fluttering behind you as a black crown was perched high in your head. Your lips were a luscious red, shaming any fully bloomed rose. But what caught Jimin’s attention the most was your eyes. He never saw anything so filled with melancholy but still looked so beautifully cold. Dull (e/c) eyes but how it shone when the light hit it, Jimin wanted to see it up close.

You turned your head and locked eyes with the young god as he gasped but never removing his eyes away from yours. Your eyes widen ever so slightly at him, you never saw this young god all your life. Another child of Zeus, you presume, and with the thought of your younger brother, you scowled. Unintentionally, at Jimin, but the young god thought it was for him. He shrinks at the intensity of the scowl with it’s matching cold glare.

Your eyes softened when you saw him back away from you, your eyes turned sad once again before turning away and towards the forest to go to the underworld, back to your own personal prison.

Jimin saw you go away as he panicked, wanting to follow you but stopped when he remembered Taehyung and his mother. He bit his lip, contemplating whether he should follow you or not, but any thought vanished when he saw you get further in the forest, almost disappearing from his sight. He quickly followed you, the bouquet of flowers still in his hands.

You scowled as you stalked away to the entrance of your prison, going in the dark entryway, your robes fluttering behind you. Jimin saw you go into the hole, the scary and dark entrance gave him the frights but also thrill, never experiencing something like this.

He followed you without you noticing as he looked around the different and dark land, all he saw was in ruin as an inky black river flowed beside him. In the further distance, he saw a dark castle standing majestically. Inside the inky waters, he thought he saw faces, groaning in misery. When he saw it, he followed you, scared out of his wits.

You quickened your strut when you saw Charon in his boat, his dark hood hiding his face as his bony hand grasped his ore.

You stepped in his large boat, sitting on the seats, giving him a golden coin. Charon chuckled, raspy as if he never used it in a thousand years.

“My apologies, Mistress, but I think you owe me than just one gold coin.” He said. You were confused, looking at him with a puzzled look.

“What? What are you talking about, Charon.” You stated, not in any mood to joke around.

“There’s two of you in the boat, Mistress”

You whipped your head back and locked eyes with the same soft blue eyes you saw earlier. You furrowed your brows at that, frowning at him.

“What are you doing here, little god? You don’t belong here. Go back.” You ordered in a cold voice making him flinch but he did not move an inch.

“M-My name is Jimin, not little god. A-And I won’t go back. I just want to explore…”

You looked at him, bewildered, you did not just hear him say that. Who does this little god think he is.

“Explore? If you want to explore then go back. You do not want to explore the Underworld unless you want to die, little god.”

Jimin looked at you with wide eyes, “Underworld? This is the underworld?” He asked with surprise

Your fine brows arched, annoyed, “Yes, now go back.”

Jimin pouted at you, not fazed by your coldness, already getting used to it.

“Can’t you take me with you? Just for a bit…”

You run a hand to your face, stressed. Jimin bit his lip, “It’s just… My mother doesn’t let me go anywhere… It is my first time going out…”

You removed your hand away from your face, looking at his sad expression. Your once unbeating heart started to pump uncharacteristically. You sighed, defeat by those doe eyes.

“Fine.” You grumbled out as Jimin grinned at you, excitedly. You dug into your robe to get another coin and gave it Charon who watched the scene with amusement.

“Now, start rowing.” You ordered, Charon nodding and moved his giant ore.

Jimin cheered quietly as the boat moved. He studied the place with his soft blue eyes as his blond hair waving a bit.

You looked at him in the corner of your eyes and rolled your eyes at your decision.

‘I’m going to regret this…’ You thought, letting out a small sigh.

“What’s this?” You heard Jimin asked. You looked back nonchalantly but almost had a heart attack when you saw his hand reaching out for the black inky waters of the River Styx. You grabbed his hand in alarm, “Don’t touch that! You want to poison yourself?”

Jimin did not hear you though, he was too focused on your linked hands. Your cold hands grabbing his warm ones gently, making his heart flutter as he blushed, unfamiliar with any skin contact with others beside Taehyung and his mother. You followed his eyes and saw your hands together, you let go of his in embarrassment. You turned your head forward, once again, hiding your growing blush.

“Don’t touch anything, do you understand.” You said, feeling him nod behind you. Jimin frowned, already missing your cold touch. Your touch was very distinct, the only one who’s touch was cold but Jimin liked it.

“O-Okay, I understand”

Charon smiled a bit under his hood, his Mistress was acting so differently that it was amusing. The Goddess of Death and Queen of the Underworld disarmed by a young unknown god.

The boat ride was mostly filled with an awkward silence as it was accompanied by Jimin’s soft humming. The boat stopped in front of the castle as you got off of it with Jimin following clumsily after you.

“Mistress! You’re back!” You heard Jungkook’s voice from the castle as your eyes widen, how on earth are you going to explain to the daemon your unexpected companion. Jungkook was known for his unrivaled loyalty to you and jealousy with your flings.

Charon chuckled at your dilemma as he rowed away. Jimin looked at the hooded boatman as he heard his chuckle, tilting his head in confusion then turned back to you.

The winged daemon arrived in front of you with a wide smile but it dropped when he saw the pretty young god. His dark brows furrowed with mixed emotions bubbling in him.

“Who’s this?” His cold voice asked as you sighed, it was starting. Jimin smiled at him, nervously, and waved meekly. Jungkook scowled, disgusted by his innocence.

“This is Jimin. He followed me on the way back here.” You said, walking away as Jungkook and Jimin followed you with the former looking at you with horrified eyes.

“What do you mean, Mistress? He’s staying with us?” He asked making Jimin look at you.

“If he wants. Or if he wants to go back, then escort him out.” You said, looking at Jimin who stared at you with wide surprised eyes.

“He wants to go back, I’m sure of it!” Jungkook exclaimed, looking at Jimin with a hard glare, daring him to oppose his words. Jimin smiled apologetically at Jungkook as the winged male deflated at that.

“I-If you permit, I would like to stay for a bit” Jimin whispered out, you turned back to him, studying him with enigmatic (e/c) eyes. You nodded and continued your way.

“M-Mistress, b-but–”

“Ready a room for him, Kookie.” And with that, you disappeared into the dark. Jungkook’s wings fell at your words as he frowned, dejected.

He sighed and tried to suck it up, reminding himself that this newcomer will be out of his feathers in no time. Oh, how wrong he was.

It has been a week and Jimin was still in the Underworld, putting his flowers around the dark and gloomy palace. Jungkook did not want to admit it but Jimin was some nice company, he was pure and innocent and Jungkook likes teasing him and teaching him new ways.

They were sitting at the back of the palace, at the courtyard with Jimin making flowers appear in the slowly coming into life grass and plants. Jungkook watched his new friend companion in awe, not really used to flowers in the Underworld.

“How do you do that?” Jungkook asked him, Jimin smiled and sat beside the winged daemon.

“I’m the god of spring, silly~” He chirped, his pureness out of place in the Underworld.

“Hmm, right. You’re Demeter’s son” Jungkook boredly said, looking nonchalant now. Jimin shook his head at him, his smile never faltering.

He bit his lips, contemplating whether he should ask his question or not. He looked at Jungkook who brushed his black wings gently.

“Hey, Jungkook… Can you tell me something about, (Y/n)?” He asked making Jungkook stop his brushing and turned his eyes to Jimin. He raised a brow, “Why?”

He blushed a bit and stuttered out, “N-Nothing! Just curious”

Jungkook peered into him, untrustingly, but sighed and nodded. He pursed his lips, thinking about what to say.

“Well, Mistress is the Goddess of the Underworld–”

“I already knew that.”

“Shh, do you want to know or not?”

Jimin rolled his eyes playfully at him as Jungkook continued, “She is the eldest daughter of Rhea and Cronus which makes her the older sister of Zeus and your mother.”

Jimin’s eyes widen at the new information. Jungkook then looked at him with sad eyes, “Zeus, imprisoned Mistress in the Underworld and took the skies for himself. Mistress always thinks for the better and just not for her advantage. She believes in justice and fairness. It might not look like it but she’s really lonely and sad…”

Jungkook finished with a quiet voice, Jimin looking at the castle with sorrow, he then looked at Jungkook.

“She can’t get out of here? But I saw her before in the meadows”

Jungkook sighed, “Zeus only permits her to a certain degree to where she can go and she can only roam freely every 300 years. Today is her 233 year, once it hit 300 again, she can go for a day around Earth.”

Jimin nodded sadly at the information, looking back to the dark gloomy castle once again, ’you’re just like me then… Imprisoned and longing for freedom…’

Jimin stood in front of your chamber door with a handful of flowers in his hand, his heart beating a bit too fastly for his liking as sweat started to appear in his hands.

“Okay, Jimin you can do this. You just have to give her the flowers.” He talked to himself and with a breath, he raised his hand ready to knock but never touching the door.

He groaned as he dropped his hand, looking at the flowers in his other hand. He sighed and looked at the door, imagining you he was talking to.

“Hi, (Y/n)! Funny bumping into you–… No, no! I’m in front of her door, bumping into you? Really, Jimin?” He scolded himself as he tried again.

“Hi, (Y/n)! I grew some flowers in your courtyard and I wanted to give these to you–”

“Who are you talking to?” The same cold and smooth voice that made his heart flutter called out making him yelp as he turned around in surprise.

You looked at him with the same eyes, shocked at his sudden yelp. Jimin then fixed his posture and cleared his throat. Smiling shyly at you, he started, “Hi, (Y/n)! I- Um… I grew some flowers in your courtyard, these are for you!”

Shoving the flowers in your arms as he smiled nervously at you. You looked at the pretty flowers in your hands with a soft blush, never have really received flowers or any kind of gifts from men.

“T-Thank you, they’re very beautiful, Jimin” You whispered, a smile appearing on your usually stone-cold face making Jimin gape at you.

You raised a brow, “What?”

Jimin gulped, “Y-You have a very beautiful smile…”

Your blush worsens that you thought your head will explode from all the heat going to your face. Jimin bit his lips, smiling as he looked down at his shoes, feeling timid.

“Y-you have a very beautiful smile too…” Jimin heard as he whipped his head up at you. The sight was almost to endearing for his poor heart.

You were blushing, a beautiful contrast to your (s/c) skin and black robes. Eyes, warmer than before and lips quirking up in a shy smile.

He gulped and looked at the flowers, pointing at it. “I picked alstroemerias for friendship and daffodils for new beginnings,” Jimin said, as he removed the sad meaning of daffodils, something he knew he has when he saw you rejecting men and daemons alike.

You looked at him, confused and looked at the flowers then back at the smiling blond.

“Flowers have meanings?”

Jimin gaped at you, thinking you might be joking but the unchanging expression on your face said otherwise.

“Y-You’re not joking?”

You shook your head, looking at him with confusion. What was the big deal with not knowing that flowers having meanings? You were the Goddess of the Death and the Queen of the Underworld, it was given that flowers and all nice things were out of your forte.

Jimin grabbed your free cold hand in his making you gasped at the contact. He then dragged you, “W-What are you doing?! Unhand me!”

“Shh! I’m going to show you something!”

You shut your mouth at that, confused at the sudden confidence of the young god. You let him drag you to the courtyard which was different from what you remembered. Last time you were here, there was only darkness and filled with cold air. Ruins complementing the dried up plants.

But now, it was vibrant. There was color other than black in the courtyard. It was also warmer than any part of the Underworld as you welcomed the warm air that nipped on your cold skin.

Jimin smiled at you, “I retouched it, I hope you don’t mind”

You looked around with a soft smile, “It’s pretty. Plants always die when I am the one trying… They hate me..” You replied making Jimin giggle

“No, they don’t”

“You can speak to plants now, little god?” You teased as he pouts at you.

“Don’t call me that! I’m taller than you.”

“Barely.”

Jimin whined at your words, you chuckle at him. He stopped, studying you. It was the first time he heard you chuckle. It was melodic, smooth, and pleasant to the ears. It was now official, it is Jimin’s favorite sound to hear.

“So what do you want me to see, Jimin?” He snapped out of his thought and ohh-ed.

“Oh yeah! Here, sit next to me” He said, patting the now vibrant grass beside him. You rolled your eyes, playfully, and sat down gently next to him.

“Let’s start with the basic!” Jimin chirped

You looked at him, confused, but let him continue. With the wave of his hand, a rose appeared in the grass.

“Roses means love and romance. Pink roses, though, means gratitude and joy while white roses mean purity and youthfulness but daisies also symbolize purity but it also means beauty and fertility”

You looked at him with amusement, nodding at his words. Jimin took that as the cue to continue and with a smile, he brought another flower.

“Anemone symbolizes protection from evil and ill wishes”

Jimin’s flower lessons continued for an hour or so, none of them realizing the time as they enjoyed each other’s company.

You laughed at the last flower Jimin showed you, “I never knew flowers could have such bad meanings. Petunias, I should give dozens of them to Zeus”

Jimin’s smile faltered at the mention of his father, this, however, did no go unnoticed to you. Looking at him with worry and you asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I-I… You really do not know?”

You raised a brow at that, “No… What is the matter, little god?” you asked softly, leaning closer to him.

“Zeus is my father…” You stared at him, studying Jimin, who fidgeted under your gaze.

“You’re definitely more handsome than your father then. Zeus looks like an egg.” Your lighthearted response surprised Jimin. He thought when you knew, you’d surely kick him out and he’ll lose a friend, forever.

“Y-You are not mad?”

You smiled at him, “Would you rather me be?”

Jimin shook his head, quickly at your words making you giggle at his quick response.

“You are not your father and you do not have any connection to our fight. Do not worry too much, little god” You said, your soft smile resting on your face.

Jimin blinked his tears away, laughing with you. You looked at him and held his cheek gently, “Don’t cry, little god. I’m not mad”

Jimin leaned his cheek to your hand, nuzzling to your cold touch. You looked at him with such softness that it made his heart hurt. His heart beating a bit too fastly, he was afraid that you might hear it. You leaned a bit closer, his breath hitching.

“(Y/n)…” He trailed as he also leaned closer, trying to meet you halfway. The cold brush of your lips made him shiver in desire.

“Mistress!” Jungkook’s voice made you two jump away, blushing at the interruption. The winged daemon stopped at his tracks when he saw the blush on your faces. He raised a brow, “Was I interrupting something?”

“No! no!” Jimin shook his head, a mad red covering his cheeks and ears. You cleared your throat as you stood up, dusting your silk robe.

“What is it, Jungkook?”

The urgency came back to Jungkook and exclaimed, “Zeus wants to talk to you!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, you nodded and strolled out the courtyard but not before bidding Jimin goodbye.

“Thank you for your flower lesson, Jimin. It was greatly appreciated.” And with that you were gone, being followed by Jungkook who looked at Jimin with a small glare.

Jimin smiled a bit at your words and gazed lovingly at your retreating figure, sighing.

You entered Olympus with a stoic face, Jungkook following you. Zeus stood in the throne-room his strong back facing you. The tall man then turned to you with a large smile, “Ah! (Y/n), glad you can come!” He said to you, giving you a hug. You groaned at the strong grip your brother gave you.

“Jin, please. Don’t.”

Jin released you from the hug, his smile never faltering at your coldness, reminding you of someone…

“Dear sister! Cheer up, today is a party! You are here–”

“Stop it with this nonsense and just tell me what you need” You interrupted making Jin stop.

He frowned at you, “Always the mood-killer, dear sister.”

You glared at him, he shrugged as he went to the table to get more wine. You followed your brother, sighing, already tired.

“You see, (Y/n). Demeter has gone crazy. She thinks that you kidnapped her dear son.” You furrowed your brows at his declaration and shook your head.

“Jimin? Jimin followed me to the Underworld. He knows he can go back anytime but he doesn’t. It is not my fault.” You snapped, Jin sighed and nodded.

“I know but Demeter has gone crazy. She went and made Earth a frozen wasteland until Jimin is back in her arms”

“Well, she should’ve been a better mother because Jimin doesn’t even want to go back to her with how much she hurt him.” You retorted. Jin looked at you with eyes you did not understand.

“You have feelings for him,” He said with a small smile. You gaped at the declaration, sputtering out words.

“T-That’s absurd! No, I do not!”

Jin smiled but sighed after, remembering Demeter’s words, “Still, though (Y/n). Jimin has to go back. Can you tell him that?”

You looked at Jin with a cold look on your face then sighed, “I’ll tell him”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask, (Y/n)” Jin uttered with a gentle smile.

Jimin hummed at the huge throne room as he arranged the flower in a small vase, waiting for you to come back with a bright smile. He heard Cerberus whimper on his side, nudging him with one of his head. Jimin looked down at the canine with a smile, “What’s wrong, buddy? Hungry?”

Cerberus perked up when he heard the word, hungry, his tail wagging behind his huge body. Jimin giggled at him and started to walk to the door, “Come on, boy. Let’s get you something to eat~”

Cerberus followed the god, padding its way to him. Jimin went out of the throne room with the dog as they walked towards the kitchen. Jimin searched for any meat in the storage and with an exclaim of victory, he got out a huge piece of meat.

“Cerb! Here you go, boy!” He threw the meat to the dog as he happily caught it, the three heads fighting as usual to take a bite of the meat. Jimin chuckled at the canine, shaking his head. He was about to go out of the kitchen when he saw the open glass door, leading to a garden. He tilted his head at that, not remembering any garden other than the courtyard he redesigned. With a smile, he went out of the kitchen and to the open glass door.

Cerberus stopped chewing at the meat and observed Jimin, he quickly followed the male to the garden, finishing the meat. Jimin looked around the dried-up garden with a tsk.

“I got work caught up on me.” He muttered with a smile. He was about to get some flowers when he saw a lone tree at the corner of the garden. Jimin walked closer to the huge tree and saw that it has bear some fruits, with a smile he picked on. He never really ate food in the Underworld, Jungkook always brought him his food and it made him curious. Is the food in the Underworld that bad?

He opened the fruit that he recognizes as pomegranate and smelled the sweet scent. Jimin smiled eagerly and ate some, the burst of the sweetness made him crave for more. After eating three the first time, he got out three more and popped it in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste.

Cerberus whimpered at him making Jimin look at him as he swallowed the sweet juice. He raised a brow at the dog, “What? It’s really sweet, Cerb!”

He was about to eat some more when Jungkook entered the garden and with a gasp, he flew towards him and smacked the fruit away from Jimin.

Jimin whined at that, “Hey! I was eating that!”

Jungkook gaped, “How many did you eat?!”

The young god tilted his head, “I don’t know… Maybe six?”

“You can’t eat food in the Underworld!”

“Why not?!”

“Because once you eat something that belongs to the Underworld, you cannot leave this place.” You said, looking at Jimin in disbelief.

Jimin turned to you, surprised at your sudden appearance. Jungkook groaned at the stupidity of the young god.

“Mistress! Did you not tell him beforehand?”

You shook your head, stressed. You groaned at the problem at hand. Jimin looked at the fallen pomegranate but he did not feel sad. He knows he should feel sad but he did not. Jimin was willing to stay if it means he can be with you.

“I-I… I do not mind staying here…” He said with a blush making you and Jungkook look at him with disbelief

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly

Jimin was about to answer but looked at Jungkook who was glaring daggers at him and quickly shut his mouth. You sighed at the daemon and turned to Jungkook.

“Kookie, walk Cerberus out, will you.”

Jungkook looked at you, “B-But Mistress!”

“Please.”

Jungkook stopped, looking at your pleading face then looked at Jimin. It hurts Jungkook but he knows. He understands… He knows that you like the young god and not him, no matter how much he loves you, your heart already belongs to another. It did not matter that Jungkook knew you for eons and eons while Jimin knew you for a week, you will still pick the latter.

Jungkook tried to blink his tears away and nodded stiffly, “Of course, Mistress.” He and Cerberus walked out of the garden, leaving you and Jimin alone. You looked at Jimin with a soft smile

“What is it? What did you want to say, little god?” Jimin chuckled a bit at the nickname, feeling more nervous as you were both alone now.

“I… I do not mind staying here… because..”

Your heart started to beat faster, heat going to your face. Your eyes begging him to continue.

“Because I love you (Y/n)… That’s why I do not mind one bit.” Jimin confessed, a serene smile on his face, hiding his nervousness at the moment.

You started to smile at him but when you remembered Zeus’s words, your smile weakened.

“Y-You can’t stay here, Jimin” You muttered

Jimin walked closer to you in nervousness, holding your hands in his as it trembled, showing his nervousness.

“Do… Do you not return my feelings?” He asked with a sad smile. You looked at him and shook your head.

“Oh, gods no! I absolutely return your feelings, Jimin” He beamed at your words

“But you have to go back…” You added, watching his face fall

“But why?”

“Your mother turned Earth into a frozen wasteland… The mortals are starving and dying until you return to her…” You finally said

Jimin shook his head, “No, my mother is not that cruel”

You held his cheek with a soft frown, “It is what Zeus told me and mortals are starting to multiple nowadays in the Underworld meaning that they’re rapidly dying, love…”

Jimin looked at the ground, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He then touched your hand with his warm one.

“I can talk to mother, I’ll tell her to stop this nonsense and I’ll return here, with you.” Jimin reasoned to you. You smiled but you know that Demeter will do anything to make something up to hinder Jimin’s return to you.

“Of course, love.”

Jimin shyly grinned at you, leaning closer that you can smell his breath. He smelled like the sweet pomegranate he ate earlier.

“I like it when you call me love…” He whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours. Heat filled up your system, closing your eyes. Savoring his warmth.

Jimin bumped his nose against yours again and leaned closer, your lips brushing against each other like last time but the only difference today was that you finally kissed.

Jimin tasted so sweet, too sweet that it made you addicted now that you had a taste. The young god deepened the kiss, your minty and smoky scent making his head spin as your cold lips made him shiver.

You licked his bottom lip for permission as Jimin whimpered at the soft contact, shyly opening his mouth. The burst of sweetness filing your system, feeling his wet appendage against yours in a sensual dance.

You broke the kiss, Jimin heaving at the passion and lack of breath. You smirked at him, looking at him. He was such a vision, with flustered cheeks and blown pupils as it was overcome with lust, lips were swollen and wet from your kiss. Jimin will be the death of you.

You two stared at each other, love pouring out the two of you. Jimin leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he enjoyed your cold skin

“Mistress! Hermes is here!” You heard Jungkook called out from the garden’s entrance as the winged daemon gave you and Jimin privacy. The two of you moving away from each other a bit.

“Taehyung?” Jimin asked, looking at the door with wide eyes. You gazed at him, “You know him?”

Jimin nodded, “He’s my best friend”

Taehyung paced around the large dark throne room, his winged shoes fluttering at every step, showing his anxiousness.

Jimin runs to the throne room, pushing the doors open with a pant as he ran all the way to the throne room. Taehyung looked up from the floor and to the door, locking eyes with Jimin. The blue-haired male let out a breath in relief, running towards him and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“You have no idea how much trouble you’re in! I looked everywhere for you! I told you to not go anywhere!” Taehyung scolded Jimin, still hugging him. The blue-haired god released Jimin who smiled sheepishly.

“I’m fine, Taehyung!” Jimin said, chuckling at his friend’s worry.

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed, “I heard that Hades kidnapped you… Are you really okay?”

Now it was Jimin’s turn to furrow his brows in confusion, “What? Kidnapped?”

“Yeah! Everyone has been talking about it!”

“(Y/n) did not kidnap me! I followed her! It was my own decision…” Jimin said with a frown

“You followed Hades to the Underworld–!? Wait! Why are you calling her by her real name?”

Jimin blushed, eyes and posture turning bashful. Taehyung’s eyes widened and shook his head in disbelief.

“No… Jiminie no…”

Jimin glared at his words, “What do you mean no?! You do not tell me what and what I can not do!”

“Jimin, your mother has been searching for you everywhere, worried sick, while you’re here making up some sick romance?”

“I love her, Taehyung!”

Taehyung shut up, looking at him with sadness, “You can’t Jimin… You do not belong here… Demeter, your mother, is waiting for you…”

Jimin’s eyes turned cold, “I love my mother, do not get me wrong. But I ate a pomegranate…”

The blue-haired male hid his face in his hands, stressed at the sudden information. He looked at him, “Did Hades made you eat–”

“No! I ate it on my own!”

Taehyung sighed and muttered a sorry, “You have to talk to your mother, Jimin…”

“I will.”

Jimin and Taehyung talked about when he will go back to talk to Demeter as Taehyung went back to deliver the message to Demeter until he goes back for Jimin. The blue-haired male tired of the drama of the gods. He was really not paid enough for this, he wasn’t even paid!…

The blond god was in the courtyard with Jungkook who was oddly quiet. Jimin looked at the winged daemon, “What’s wrong, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook looked at Jimin, tears brimming in big doe eyes, “Do you really want know?”

Jimin frowned, nodding his head in worry. Jungkook sighed and wiped his tears, “I loved (Y/n) for eons Jimin…”

The young god’s eyes widen at Jungkook’s confession.

“I know that she won’t ever feel the same about me but it still hurts…”

“Jungkookie, I’m sorr–”

Jungkook stopped the blond before he can continue, “Don’t be sorry. It is not your fault. To be honest, I’m thankful she loves you and not some pesky daemon in the Underworld…” he chuckled lightly. Jimin gazed at him, still feeling bad.

“Do not feel bad nor sad. It is not your fault. Even though, she does not love me… I will forever stay loyal to her because before I loved her, she was and will always be my friend.” Jungkook muttered. Jimin hugged him as Jungkook cried, the winged male couldn’t suppress the emotions any longer. All of the hidden feelings he hid for eons finally breaking free. Though he is sad, he also felt free.

Jungkook looked at Jimin and smiled through his salty tears, “Please take care of her, she can be really clumsy and can say some hurtful words but please understand her. Be patient for she does not mean it” Jimin nodded, smiling at Jungkook as he wiped his tears.

“Thank you for sharing your feelings with me, Jungkook”

“Thank you for listening”

You looked at the vibrant pink flowers in your hand as you bit your lips in nervousness. Jimin then entered the throne-room making you hide the bouquet behind your back. The young god looked at you then at your hand that was behind your back with a teasing smile. He jogged towards you and leaned closer to you.

“Oho~ What’s this? Did you got me something?”

You sighed, the surprise ruined. You slowly took your hand away and brought it to Jimin with a soft smile. The blond god’s eyes widened at the bouquet, tears welling up. He hugged you, slightly crushing the flowers between you two. He nuzzled at the crook of your neck, kissing the cold skin as he tasted his salty tears along with your skin.

“The flowers are getting crushed, love”

“I do not care, I just want to hug you for now… Please”

You slowly wrapped your arms around him as you felt his grip tightened around you. You smiled, caressing his soft hair.

Jimin looked at you with tears on his blue eyes and smiled lovingly at you, “I see that you have read further than our lesson”

You smiled, proudly, “I am a goddess of surprises, love” Jimin giggled at your words

You held his cheek, caressing softly at his skin. Feeling and memorizing his features as you leaned, your noses bumping lovingly.

“I’ll miss you, little god”

“I’ll be back, you know.”

“I know… I just.. Will miss you still”

Jimin smirked at you, “You have gotten soft, Goddess of Death, Queen of the Underworld.”

You playfully glared at him, pinching his nose a bit, “Do not test me, little god”

Jimin whined at the pinch, caressing his nose with a pout. You chuckled at him and gestured the flowers that were still in your hands.

“Do you not want it?” Jimin rolled his eyes at your words with a smile

“Of course I do, love. You’re such a tease.”

“You hang out with Jungkook too much, little god.”

Jimin giggled, taking the flowers from your hands as he cradled it in his hands, smiling softly at it.

“Jiminie, are you ready to go?” Taehyung called, Jimin’s escort to Demeter as he entered with Jungkook who was fuming behind him.

“Your wings are still ugly.” The daemon snapped

“Says the one with the large black wings.”

“Excuse you! At least my wings are attached to my body!”

“How dare you!”

Jimin ran up to them, separating the two who looked like they were about to throw hands any minute.

“Okay! That’s enough!”

You chuckled at the scene, finding it funny that a short god can make the two taller males stand down in a wave of his finger.

“I’m sorry, Jiminie…”

“I ain’t saying sorry, Jimin. That foul god deserves it”

“Why you-”

You went to the three males and commanded, “Jungkook stop it. Come here.”

Jungkook perked up and ran to your side with a raspberry blown to Taehyung. The latter glared at the daemon, wanting to strangle him.

“You best be going, love. Your mother’s been killing a lot of mortals. This place will be crowded if it does not stop” You said

Jimin raised a brow at your words, “You sound like you just want me out of here”

You gasped, exaggerated, and placed a hand on your chest, “I have been found out”

“You-!”

You chuckled and kissed his cheek, “Come back to me, alright, little god”

Jimin smiled at you, nodding, he was about to kiss you but heard the gagging noises from Taehyung.

“You guys are gross. It’s not like you won’t see each other you know. If you have forgotten Jiminie, you’re stuck in here for 6 months and 6 months with your mother” Taehyung said, rolling his eyes

“I know, Taehyung. Thank you for reminding me” Jimin said sarcastically

“You’re welcome!”

Jimin looked at You and Jungkook, “I’ll see you two in 6 months”

Jungkook scoffed, “That’s too short if you ask me”

You slapped the back of his head with a glare, “I already said to stop it, did I not Jungkook?”

Jungkook pouted, “Yes Mistress”

Taehyung stuck his tongue at Jungkook, smirking at him. Jungkook growled, glaring intensely at the god.

“Let’s go, Jiminie~”

Jimin made amends with Demeter when he went back, explaining everything to her. Demeter brought spring back with Jimin’s help. That is why the Earth has cold and warm seasons, it is when Jimin came and gone away from his mother. When he is with his mother, the seasons turned warm and flowers grew everywhere. When he is with his love, Demeter turned the earth cold, missing his son dearly.

Jimin stared at the vase of flowers you got him, smiling at the bouquet of astilbe. The vibrant pink making his heart flutter as he waits until he can come back to his love.

“I will be waiting for you.”

300 notes · View notes

writethehousedown · 4 years

Text

Trust Fund, Gold Tongue (Crygi) 1/7 - Peridot

A/N: I am so excited to be taking part in the Summer Lovin’ fic challenge! This is going to be my first multichap ever, so bare with me!! I’ve enjoyed working on this for ages now, and I’m so excited to share it with you all. You can find me at my sideblog @artificialperidot, come say hi!!

Summary: Crystal hates her summer job in a country club, until she falls oh so hard for the sweet-talking millionaire daughter of the owner. Gigi would rather not spend her summer with her dysfunctional family, but a certain red headed waitress proves to be a welcome distraction.

They would both rather be anywhere else, but perhaps their summer won’t be as bad as it seems.

Hope you enjoy!!

Crystal could think of a hundred things she’d rather be doing this summer than working in a country club full of wealthy pricks. But the wage was decent, and God knows her rent wasn’t going to pay itself.

Walking into the resort for the first time had been like walking into another dimension, a complete other world from the life she knew, where there was no such thing as “too expensive”. It was like getting a glimpse into the other side of the world, of affluence that she could have never comprehended unless she had seen it with her own eyes. The complex was huge, spanning acres upon acres of land, and lavishly decorated - the front lobby had a fountain, for Christ’s sake.

Crystal thought it looked like something from MTV Cribs. On crack.

Not only was the place huge, but it had more facilities than Crystal could’ve even imagined - a golf course, a bowling alley, tennis courts, a spa, and countless swimming pools and hot tubs, some of which Crystal had yet to find on her first week on the job. Not to mention the private restaurants and numerous bars, which, as a waitress, she most often found herself working in.

So far, Crystal had learned two things in her first week working at the country club. Number one, for having such expensive taste, rich old white men liked drinking really cheap beer. And number two, despite the beer being cheap, they would do anything they could to avoid paying for it.

Crystal leaned against her beer cart and did her very best to ignore the sound of a 50-something year old country club member (who was much too loud and much too drunk for 11am on a Tuesday) babbling something about Crystal bringing him the wrong drink - that he ordered a Budweiser and not a Heineken - in an attempt to get another free pint. Crystal didn’t say a word, only nodding now and again to seem like she was listening. She was absolutely certain the guy was lying through his teeth. She specifically remembered writing down the man’s order, and double checking to make sure she had got it right. But she’d quickly learned to keep her mouth shut, because the people she was dealing with had enough money and enough influence to get her fired in an instant, and that simply was not an option for her.

She learnt that the customer is always right, even if the customer’s nose has grown five inches and their pants have set on fire.

Heaving a sigh, she mumbled out a “sorry about that, sir, I’ll get you another one on the house” through gritted teeth, before lifting all the empty glasses from the poolside table and balancing the man’s pint (which was about two thirds empty, despite it supposedly being ‘the wrong drink’) , precariously on her cart. If she had an ounce more courage, she would’ve challenged him, told him that he and his mates that had tried the same trick on her before weren’t fooling anyone, but she decided she’d leave her complaining for Jan’s ears when they were on lunch break.

She found their reluctance to pay surprising, really, since they had more money than she could even imagine. They had more money than she’d probably earn in her whole life. But, she supposed that’s how they all stayed so rich - by being cheap bastards.

She started wheeling the trolley back towards the bar indoors, hoping the guy didn’t pay much attention to the scowl that had crept its way onto her face. She decided to take the long way back, going around the pool rather than passing by his table again, which gave her a little time to cool off before she had to go inside and tell Jan or whoever was bartending to pour his beer down the sink.

She was tempted to hide round a corner and down the beer when no one was looking, because fuck, she needed a drink right about now.

Crystal found it funny that little things like that bothered her so much. She was fully aware that there were far worse things a person could do - she herself had done things that were way worse than telling a little white lie to get a free drink. But seeing it happen every day for the past week had really rubbed her the wrong way. Sure, in her last job as a waitress in a café she had encountered similar situations, but this felt different. It was different because she knew these people had the money, that they would have no trouble paying a few dollars out of their millions, and that they were stealing for the hell of it. Thinking about it made her want to scream.

Crystal wasn’t poor, per say. She wasn’t rich by any means, but her family had enough money to get by most of the time. It was only now that she was moving out for college at the end of the summer that she was in real need of some cash for her rent and her student loans. But knowing that people slave away for hours in dead end jobs just to make ends meet, and these millionaires wouldn’t pay for a fucking beer? It made her blood boil.

Although she felt like steam was coming out of her ears, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself and keep her cool. She was still working, after all. She found herself staring into the pool water as she rolled the cart along, watching as the sun’s reflection danced on its surface, glimmering. She was thankful for the hot weather, at least. The sunshine lightened everyone’s mood a little, and usually made her job a bit easier.

She considered it a small victory.

“Excuse me, miss?” a woman’s voice called out.

Snapping out of her daydream, Crystal swivelled round in search of the source of the voice. The poolside was fairly empty given the time of day (because let’s face it, if Crystal wasn’t working, she wouldn’t have been awake at 11am, either), so it didn’t take her long to see a girl, lying on one of the sun loungers, seemingly on her own and sticking out like a sore thumb from the older men in golfing gear.

She was young, Crystal thought, probably about the same age as herself or a little younger, and she donned a floppy sun hat and a pair of oversized cat-eye sunglasses, which left Crystal slightly unsure in what direction she was looking, or if she even had her eyes open at all. Her long, dark hair sat in waves down to her chest, and she just so happened to be wearing a very flattering and clearly very expensive bathing suit - a black halter neck bikini, with gold buckles - which left little to the imagination.

She looked like the dictionary definition of a rich girl, and Crystal would’ve rolled her eyes at how cliché she looked if she wasn’t so god damn hot.

“Um, hello?” the girl asked.

Crystal’s heart jolted. “Huh? Oh! Uh, how can I help you?” She jumped to attention, and was now suddenly very aware of her cheeks flushing red. How long had she been staring?

“Could I get another pink lemonade, please?” the girl said as if it was obvious, holding out her empty glass for Crystal to take.

“Oh, sure,” Crystal replied, making her way over to her sunlounger and feeling the heat rush to her face. When she grabbed the glass, Crystal could’ve swore she felt their hands touch for just a millisecond, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little flustered.

“Thanks,” the girl said, offering Crystal a small smile from behind her huge sunglasses.

A smile of pity, probably, Crystal thought.

She quickly placed the glass onto her cart and began rolling it away as fast as she deemed socially acceptable, speed-walking her way towards the bar. She bit the inside of her cheek and inwardly cursed herself for being so awkward. What was that? Who was that? And why the hell was she having heart palpitations?

She was practically out of breath by the time she reached the bar, which was located just inside a set of double doors, right by the pool. She set the glasses on the bar top, leaning on it in an attempt to steady herself and taking a few seconds to catch her breath. When she looked up, she was met by a smirking Jan, who had a single eyebrow raised.

“Care to tell me why you’re as red as a tomato?”

“Fuck you,” Crystal sighed, a smile breaking onto her face. “It’s warm outside, that’s all.”

Jan raised a single eyebrow. “Whatever you say,” she chirped, clearly not believing her. As much as Crystal wanted to elbow her in the ribs at that, she couldn’t help but smile. One of the few good things to come out of this job was her friendship with Jan and the other staff, which was new, but already felt strong. Jan was the human equivalent of a golden retriever- it was hard not to love her.

“Hey, I need a pink lemonade and a Budweiser beer for customers outside.”

“Another beer? This one’s not finished,” Jan said, gesturing to the pint glass Crystal had placed on the bar top before her.

Crystal rolled her eyes. “Apparently it’s the wrong brand.”

“Ugh. Another one of those guys. I hope he didn’t give you a hard time, sweetie,” she said, shaking her head with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll get the drinks for you now.”

“Thanks, Jan.”

As Jan busied herself with pulling another pint, Crystal could help but peer out through the door at the girl, still laid out on her sun lounger by the pool. She couldn’t deny she was gorgeous, but she wasn’t sure why her heart decided to try to escape her chest at the sight of her, especially seeing half of her face was hidden by those huge sunglasses and that floppy hat. It was probably that damn swimsuit, she thought.

Jan’s voice interrupted her train of thought. “I presume the pink lemonade’s for miss Goode? It’s her usual. I’ll put it on her tab.”

Crystal was quickly brought back to attention. “Who’s miss Goode?” she asked, trying not to seem too curious.

“Probably one of the richest teenagers in this hemisphere,” Jan scoffed.

Crystal gulped. “Oh, really?”

“Mmhm. Her dad’s a multimillionaire, he’s the CEO of some software company,” she said, not looking up from her task of refilling drinks. “He owns this whole country club. The Goode’s always spend their summer here.”

Crystal’s eyes widened. She knew that the girl would be rich, but she didn’t think she would be that rich. She was suddenly very intimidated, but she somehow wasn’t surprised. This ‘miss Goode’ looked like a million dollars, and apparently she was worth even more. One thing was for certain, though - any feelings she possibly could’ve had towards her had to be squashed, immediately.

“She’s not a bad kid, though,” Jan continued. “I kinda feel bad for her sometimes.”

“Why’s that?”

Before Jan could answer, their workmate Heidi swept through from the kitchen, carrying a stack of trays in one hand and a towel in the other, and took her place behind the bar with Jan. “Oh please, there’s nothing to feel bad for. She’s a bazillionaire, she’ll probably never work a day in her life!” she exclaimed, clearly having overheard their conversation. “If I was that rich, I’d be living it up in a mansion with all my rich friends and buying loads of cars and having parties every night. But, ya know. Poverty,” she said, laughing at her own joke immediately after.

Crystal found herself chuckling along and automatically agreeing with Heidi - she was sure that money like that would solve all of her problems. But she was reluctant to say so, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

“You’d better not keep her waiting, Crystal,” Jan prompted, handing over the fresh pint of beer and a tall glass of pink lemonade, which had a pink straw and crushed ice and a strawberry and slice of lemon on the rim. Crystal thought that it should have one of those mini cocktail umbrellas too, but she supposed that would’ve been a little overkill.

Gently balancing the drinks on her cart, she nodded in thanks to the girls, promising to meet them on their lunch break, and started wheeling it out the double doors, back towards the pool and the sun loungers.

Back towards miss Goode.

She wasn’t entirely sure that the colour of her face had settled by now, but she hoped that she wouldn’t be able to tell from behind her sunglasses. She told herself the nerves that were building in her chest were because of this girl’s social status, and definitely not because she was pretty. Definitely not. That didn’t even cross Crystal’s mind. She didn’t even need to tell herself that looking at a customer like that was a bad idea, and that miss Goode was probably straight, and that she’d never think twice about dating an employee. No, of course not. That would be stupid.

As she walked ever closer, Crystal was psyching herself up, telling herself to stop being an awkward mess and just be cool. Act natural. All she had to do was hand her the glass without making it too obvious that she was nervous. Easy. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. (And, avoid staring at her in that bathing suit, which was significantly less easy peasy lemon squeezy).

Before she knew it, she was a couple steps away from her. This was it. Just hand her the drink and get out of there. She could do this.

The girl turned to face Crystal when she saw her coming, offering her a smile. And then, she reached up and took off her sunglasses. And Crystal got a glimpse of her eyes for the first time. They were a piercing icy blue, and they twinkled in the sunshine, and Crystal didn’t want to take her eyes off of them.

Crystal fumbled on her cart and grabbed a glass, handing it to Gigi, not wanting to break eye contact for a second. She may have only been holding eye contact for a few seconds, but Crystal was captivated, swimming in her gaze.

And then, the girl looked downwards, and her face fell, and for just a second, Crystal’s heart dropped. Her brows furrowed. She looked confused.

And then Crystal realised she hadn’t handed the girl her pink lemonade, but the pint of beer.

Crap.

“Usually I get ID’d before someone serves me alcohol,” the girl said with a cocky smirk.

“Oh, uh, sorry!”

Crystal felt the heat rushing to her cheeks as she fumbled to fix her mistake, practically shoving the pink drink in her free hand as panic caught in her throat. She had one job. One simple job. She snatched the pint glass away from her with shaky hands.

And then, she dropped it.

“Shit!”

The glass miraculously didn’t smash, but its contents were spilt all over the poolside tiles.

This was all she needed.

Crystal sighed, just desolately staring at her reflection at the puddle of beer for a few seconds as an overwhelming feeling of for fuck’s sake overtook her. She groaned, flailing her arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. She heard the girl beside her start to chuckle with that stupid cocky smirk still plastered on her face, perching on the edge of the sun lounger and looking up at Crystal.

“You know, someone should really clean that up,” she said, flashing Crystal a grin. “It’s a slipping hazard.”

Crystal rolled her eyes. “We’re by a pool, everywhere’s a slipping hazard,” she said, but she fumbled for the towel that she had tucked into her apron pocket anyways, kneeling down to wipe it up.

The girl giggled at that, leaning back against her chair with her crossed legs outstretched before her (which Crystal definitely didn’t find herself staring at). “You didn’t strike me as the type to talk back, but I’m pleasantly surprised,” she said, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp through her pink bendy straw.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Most of the staff here are no fun. I think they’re all afraid I’m gonna get them fired or something,” she said with a shrug. “You seem fun though.”

Crystal felt herself blush, but this time she wasn’t embarrassed. She was smiling. “Well, God didn’t give me this incredible personality to be quiet.”

The girl laughed, tucking a lock of her dark chocolate brown hair behind her ear. Crystal couldn’t help but take notice of the way she stuck her tongue out just a little as she giggled, and it made her smile, too. She giggled like a little girl, and it seemed like such a contrast to her effortless chic-ness. Crystal found it endearing. And very cute.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, have I?” the girl said. Her eyes scanned Crystal’s face, and Crystal tried to focus on wiping up the spilt drink because she was sure that if she caught another glance at the girl’s doll eyes looking directly at her, her brain would start shutting down.

“I don’t think so,” Crystal replied. “I only started here about a week ago.”

“I thought so,” the girl hummed, before taking another sip from her glass. “I think I would’ve remembered you.”

Crystal could’ve swallowed her own tongue at that. Instead she clenched her jaw and continued cleaning, keeping her lips firmly shut to make sure she didn’t say something stupid.

“So what’s your name then?”

“Crystal,”

“Nice to meet you, Crystal,” the girl said with a quick raise of her eyebrows.

“Nice to meet you too, uh-.”

“Gigi,” the girl said with a smile.

“Gigi,” Crystal replied, seeing how her name felt on her tongue, and recalling the name Jan had mentioned earlier. Gigi Goode. It felt right, she thought. It suited her. It definitely seemed like a rich girl name, and as far as rich girls came, this girl was supposedly in a league of her own. Though Crystal tried not to think about that - her massive sunglasses and her perfect model body were already intimidating enough.

Not that Crystal was thinking about her body or anything. Especially not about how good it looked in that pretty swimsuit.

Of course not.

Once she had the beer all mopped up, Crystal tossed the soaked towel over her shoulder, picking up the desolate pint glass from the ground and placing it on her beer cart, still in awe of how it didn’t smash on the outdoor tiles. She supposed the universe had felt bad for her - she’d had quite enough beer issues for today, and the last thing she needed was broken glass to deal with, too.

The knowledge that she’d have to go back for yet another beer for that lying bastard, though, made her want to throw the glass at a brick wall.

She felt frustration build up in her chest at the thought, and sighed. Perhaps a little too loudly, though, as Gigi seemed to pick up in it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Ugh, I just have to go get this annoying guy another beer now,” Crystal replied with a roll of her eyes.

“How is he annoying?”

Crystal probably shouldn’t be saying this to the daughter of the country club owner, but fuck it, she needed to vent. “There’s a group of them, actually. They always yell at me and pretend I got their order wrong so they can get another free beer. I know it’s not that bad, but it just rubs me the wrong way.”

Crystal looked at Gigi, whose face had changed to one of shock and anger, her mouth hanging open slightly and her eyebrows furrowed. She stayed silent for a second, before standing up from her sun lounger, scanning the pool area. “Who was it?”

“That guy over there, in the blue polo shirt,” Crystal said, gesturing towards him.

Gigi nodded, her eyes narrowing. Crystal saw her clutch her glass tightly, her knuckles turning white. “Oh. Him,” she said, her voice stoic. “I know him. Well, I guess I won’t be needing the rest of my drink!” she said, and with that, she was off, quickly marching to the spot where the man stood.

Before Crystal had time to comprehend what was happening, Gigi was face to face with the man, and Crystal was frozen in her spot, her feet stuck to the ground a few meters away from them.

She heard Gigi’s voice yell something, and then she was throwing her pink lemonade in the man’s face.

He was drenched, and Crystal had to cover her mouth to suppress her laughter.

Crystal half expected the now dripping man to start yelling, screaming at Gigi like he had screamed at her. But instead he remained silent, not looking angry, but more at a loss for words, before he trudged off grumpily, presumably to get changed.

When her eyes darted away from the man, Gigi was nowhere to be seen. But even so, she still found herself grinning like a fool.

And, when her manager called her to clean up the spilt pink lemonade by the pool, she was more than happy to oblige.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #crystal methyd #gigi goode #heidi n closet #jan sport #peridot #fluff #angst #lesbian au #tw: homophobia but not in this chapter #concrit welcome #submission #summer lovin' 2020 #day 1: bathing suit

66 notes · View notes

poeticandors · 7 years

Text

I’ll Come Back For You Part 2

Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: Y/N is the adopted daughter of Leia and Han Solo. After being captured by Kylo Ren, Y/N is forced to watch as he tortures Poe.

Warnings: A few curse words and mentions of torture (Very little)

I do not own anything!!!

Part 1

Tags at end of fic below the cut.

Everyone around you is hurrying to their stations. The sounds of people panting and yelling orders filled the station. Pilots are yelling for their droids to keep up as they prepare to take off to fight against the Resistance.

In search of your mother, you failed to notice the small droid that was in your path. With your head still turned, you feel a pair of arms reach around your waist to stop you from going any further.

You hated when people touched you without your permission, so naturally you began to struggle out of whoever’s arms you were in.

“Hey man,” You said through clenched teeth. “I don’t like to be man handled. So you have about 0.5 seconds before I stick my boot up your ass.”

“Whoa, princess,” A deep voice chuckled softly as he released you. “I was just trying to stop you from running over my pal, BB-8.”

Straightening your jacket, you looked down and noticed an orange and white BB-unit inches away from your feet. The droid was just about the cutest you had ever seen, so you instantly calmed down.

You turned toward the man and took in his appearance. The first thing you noticed about him was how one corner of his lips turned up into a smirk, as if he knew he was just the shit. You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss those lips or just punch that smirk off.

Your gaze made its way up towards his dark, wavy locks that had you questioning if they were as soft as they looked. Finally, your eyes connected with his dark, brown ones— filled with what you would describe as playfulness, as if he knew he was testing your patience.

“See anything you like, princess?” He asked smugly.

“You mean other than a face that I want to use as a punching bag?” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Ouch sweetheart, that isn’t a nice thing to say to your prince charming,” he said, still wearing that smirk on his face.

Your eyes quickly fell to his lips once more and just as quickly, you lifted your gaze back up. For some reason you didn’t know, you felt your stomach flutter both times you glanced at those lips.

“Okay,” you sighed, looking away from those lips for a moment to search around you, “I don’t have time for this. I am trying to find my mother.”

“Well, maybe I could help? What does she look like, princess?”

You groaned at the pet name he gave you, but felt a bit of amusement as you spotted your mother. Smirking to yourself, you looked back at the man.

“Actually, she is right over there.”

As you pointed across the room, the man’s smirk had finally dropped. You felt a sense of achievement.

“The General is your mother? But you don’t look anything like her.”

“It’s called adoption, not all of us know our birth parents.” You paused. “I don’t even know why I am explaining myself to you; I need to talk to my mother.” You were in the process of turning away from him when he called out for you.

“Wait! So technically, you really are a princess, yeah?” Rolling your eyes, you refused to answer and stormed off towards your mother, hearing his laugh behind you.

Your mother must have heard your heavy footsteps as she turned to look at you. She smiled at you as soon as you reached her.

“Hello Y/N, are you ready for your first mission?”

“Yes mo- I mean General.” You corrected yourself. “Just waiting to find out which pilot will be escorting me.”

“I would only trust the best pilot in the Resistance to assist you.” She motioned for you to follow her. “Let me show you to him.”

As you followed behind her, you were too busy seeing if you could figure out who you pilot was to listen to her. You nearly bumped into her as she had stopped right in front of you and motioned towards your pilot.

“Y/N,” she began, “this is Poe Dameron, and he will be your pilot for this mission.”

Your face fell as you recognized the man you had run into earlier. Poe grinned down at you and you could feel your cheeks heating up.

“Hey there princess,” he said stepping towards you. “Looks like we are going to be partners.”

Although you didn’t mind the pet name, you couldn’t help but scoff at him.

“Yeah, well don’t flatter yourself Dameron.”

“Alright, that’s enough from the both of you.” Your mother laughed. “Poe, can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Yes, General.” As he walked past you, he shot you a wink.

You felt your cheeks heat up once more and tried to shake off the warm feeling. Something bumped against your leg and you looked down to see BB-8 looking up towards you. As you knelt down, the droid began to chirp excitedly, introduced itself to you.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you BB-8.” You patted the droid. “I’m Y/N and I am glad that you will be going on this mission with us.”

As you continued to talk with BB-8, someone tapped your shoulder. You turned to see Poe smiling a sincere smile at you. You immediately stood up.

“I see you and BB-8 have been getting along. Does that mean we can be friends too, princess?” Huffing in annoyance, you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips.

“Maybe,” You said as you stepped closer to Poe. “But only on one condition.”

“What’s that princess?” He asked, stepping close to you as well.

“Don’t ever call me princess.” And with a final glare, you turned around to board the X-Wing.

Your body shook awake as you felt a compelling weight upon you. Pushing yourself to sit up, you became instantly dizzy and leaned against the wall, taking in slow breaths.

You noticed that you weren’t cuffed or chained to the wall—probably at the “mercy” of your brother—and were only lying on a cold, metal bench. Your mind instantly went to Poe and you began to worry for him. What if they were hurting him?

The metal doors opened with a whoosh and you watched as two Stormtroopers walked towards you, ordering you to stand up. You only glared at them.

“Well you see boys; I would, but your buddy the Jedi Killed didn’t warn me of the side effects that would come after he decided to knock me out.”

Both of the Stormtroopers marched up to you, gripped you heard by your arms, and lifted you up. You began to trash your arms against them, but it was no use. They began walking you out of your room and down a hallway.

You tried to memorize every turn, seeing as you would be trying to escape later on. As they dragged you around a corner, you noticed another Stormtrooper, standing by himself, looking down at the helmet in his hands.

Huh, you thought, I wonder what his deal is.

The Stormtroopers stopped you in front of another room and you could sense that something was not right. The doors opened and your eyes landed on the beaten, battered body of Poe and you gasped. As soon as the Troopers released you, you rushed over to him and gently took his face in your hands.

“Poe?” You patted his face gently. “Hey, Poe, it’s me, Y/N. You need to wake up now.” Poe began to groan and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding as he began to stir awake.

“Hngh…Y/N?” His eyes shot wide open and he looked around the room in a panic. “What are you doing here? I told you to leave.”

“Well…” Poe was unamused at the playfulness of your tone. “I was but then-“

“I brought her as my guest.” The familiar robotic voice of your brother made you flinch.

A lump formed in the back of your throat and you slowly turned towards your brother.

“Oh, hey Ben.” You hissed. “Thanks for giving me the worst possible headache back there.”

“I figured it would be easier on me instead of trying to carry someone who would’ve thrashed around like a child, sister. But, now that you are here, we can finally get started.” You stood protectively in front of Poe.

“Don’t do this Ben.” You flinched at how your voice cracked. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“Oh, I won’t hurt him, little sister.” Ben began to walk towards the both of you slowly, “all you have to do is tell me where the map is.” Your muscles instantly tensed up.

Poe must’ve noticed, as you heard him struggle against his restraints.

“No, Y/N, don’t you tell him.” As soon as Poe spoke up, your heart began to race.

You certainly didn’t want Poe to get hurt, but you couldn’t risk losing the one thing that could help out the Resistance. Taking in a deep breath, you sized up against your brother and stood your ground.

“The Resistance will not be intimidated by you.” Ben growled and flicked his wrist, throwing you against the far wall.

You struggled but it was no use—he was much stronger than you were. Ben turned his back against you, now focused on Poe, and brought out his lightsaber. Your eyes widened and you tried to fight against the invisible force that held you against the wall.

“No! Please, Ben.” You cried out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Don’t do this, please.”

“You let your emotions drag you down, little sister.” He said without turning. “That, in return, has made you weak.”

He stalked up to Poe and dragged one of the smaller edges of his saber to cut into Poe’s shoulder. The smell of burning flesh and the sound of Poe screaming caused you to cry out for the pilot. Your brother pulled his saber away and proceeded down towards his chest.

“No, wait! I’ll tell you where it is!” You begged—dropping your head in defeat and letting the tears fall down your cheeks. “Just please stop hurting him.” The sound of the whirring lightsaber stopped and you lifted your head up to see Ben walk towards you.

“N-no Y/N.” The sound of Poe’s weak voice only made the tears fall faster. “Don’t tell him. I’ll be fine.” Continuing to glare at your brother, you chose to ignore Poe’s demand.

All of a sudden, the invisible force holding you disappeared and you began to fall forward, landing hard on your hands and knees. Ben crouched down next to you and lifted your chin up to him. Although you doubted it, you swore you saw him flinch as he glanced upon your tear ridden face.

“If you tell me, I will not touch him and will leave right away.” You pushed his hand away and continued to glare at him, refusing to speak.

“You’re stubbornness is going to be the death of you, Y/N.” He clenched his fists. “Now tell me, where is the map.” You smirked.

“It’s at the location of go fuck yourself, Ben.” At that moment, Ben lifted his hand up to your head.

Although Ben wasn’t touching you, it was like his hand was actually squeezing your head. That he was making his way through your mind—digging through the deepest of thoughts.

Poe began to yell, but it was no use; you couldn’t hear him. All you could focus on was the terrible humming that was going on in your head.

Finally, the pain subsided and your body dropped to the floor. The sound of Ben’s heavy footsteps faded away as he left the room, leaving you on the ground panting.

“Y/N?” Poe spoke softly. “Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me, princess. I don’t think I could handle not hearing your pretty voice. Even if you have used it many times to threaten me with it.” Struggling, you crawled over to Poe, your body overwhelmed with dizziness.

Using the chair that held Poe, you lifted yourself up and help on tightly. Poe’s fingers tangled themselves in yours and you squeezed lightly, refusing to look up at the pilot.

“I’m so sorry, Poe. I wasn’t strong enough.”

“It wasn’t you, sweetheart, I was the weak one. I think he had already gotten the location from me but wanted to see if it was the truth. You did all that you could and I am so proud of you, princess.” Although you were still disappointed in yourself, you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips at the pet name.

Gently, you leaned your head on his uninjured shoulder and allowed Poe to lean his head on top of yours. Sitting quietly for a few moments, you immediately stood in front of Poe again when a Stormtrooper walked through the door.

The Stormtrooper led you and Poe down the corridors of the ship. At first, when he pushed you guys aside, you were confused by his sudden action.

He then began to tell you how he would rescue you guys if you could help him escape and asked if either you or Poe could fly a TIE Fighter. You pointed hurriedly at Poe.

“He can. But I thought that TIE FIghters-“

“Why are you helping us?” Poe interrupted.

The Stormtrooper looked between the both of you and sighed.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” You and Poe looked at each other in unison and you smirked back at the Stormtrooper.

“You just need a pilot huh?”

“I need a pilot.”

The three of you began walking to the docking area for the TIE Fighters While you and Poe were acting extremely calm, your rescuer sounded like he would pass out any moment.

“Hey buddy.” You whispered. “Maybe you should consider relaxing before you blow our cover.”

“Shhh, Y/N.”

“Hey guys, how are all three of us going to fit? I thought TIE Fighters were only two seats.”

“Looks like you’ll be sitting on my lap then, princess,” Poe commented and you could hear the smugness in his voice.

Before you could comment back, the Stormtrooper pushed you guys towards one of the TIE Fighters and motioned for you to climb inside. You realized Poe was serious when he patted down on his lap and grinned. Instead, you sat on the floor next to him and tried to somehow secure yourself.

“Aww come on princess. You know I don’t bite.”

“Can you just please get us out of here, Dameron.” You shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Poe laughed as he began to do his thing while also trying to explain how to shoot to your no-named friend. You felt the TIE Fighter begin to rise and relief washed over you… until you were thrown forward a little too harshly.

“I can fix this.” Poe was quick to say as he began to hit some toggle switches and push buttons.

“Seriously?” You groaned. “I thought you could fly anything. You need to get us out of here Dameron.”

You felt the impact of blasters hit the Fighter and braced yourself. Finally, Poe was able to free the TIE Fighter and you flew back, grabbing onto Poe to steady yourself.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Poe asked.

“Yeah,” You huffed. “No thanks to you!”

“Hey buddy, what’s your name?” Poe asked.

“FN-2187.” You and Poe both furrowed your brows.

“FN… what?” You asked.

“That’s the only name they ever gave me.”

“Yeah… I don’t think that will work here.” You chuckled.

You and Poe agreed that you would then call him Finn and continued to introduce yourselves. As you got closer to Jakku, Finn began to question why you were headed back there.

“We need to get his droid.” You answered. “It’s holding a map to Luke Skywalker and we need to get it before the First Order does.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, I-“

Finn was interrupted as you guys were starting to spin out of control. You grabbed on tightly to Poe and prayed to the Maker that you guys would be alright.

“Y/N!” Poe cried. “You need to go back there with Finn and secure yourself with him. The trajectory of the landing shows that it is more likely that he will be more protected.”

“No Poe,” you placed your hand on his, “I am not going to leave you again.”

“Hey, remember what I told you? I will always come back for you.” Your eyes locked onto his for a long moment and you sighed in defeat.

“Okay Poe. If you somehow make it back to me, I get to punch you in the arm.” You pecked his cheek.

“Deal Y/N/N.” He squeezed your hand before ushering you to go towards Finn.

Securing yourself as best you could, you awaited the hard impact. As the ground was coming closer into view, you closed your eyes and called out Poe’s name one last time before the world around you turned black.

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joyfullynervouscreator · 7 years

Text

The Burned Prince c1

Nínimeth. Art by Charlie Bowater

Young Thranduil by pastellzhq on DA

After the sacking of Doriath, the lands once girdled by Melian were abandoned. Faerbraichon, Lord of House Brethil, went east in search of a new land for his Sindar Elves, a land far removed from the grief caused by the Silmaril Thingol had coveted. With him came his family - those who were left - and those for whom he was Lord. Running into a Dragon was an unexpected complication; though, for one of his sons, it might turn out to be the source of love. For the rest of House Brethil, the meeting between their youngest Prince and a Woodland elleth will eventually lead to the formation of the largest Elven Kingdom in Arda and the establishment of a new people - the combined Sindar and Nandor Elves that eventually became known as the Silvans of Greenwood.

This is that story.

a note on people: Nenglessel│Nenalassië - mother of Bregolion, Nengeliel, Glaerdor and Thranduil. Wife of Faerbraichon│Oropher. Kinsman of Thingol through his brother Olwe. Falmarin/Telerin elleth who escaped the kinslaying of Alqualondë, pressed into service as a sailor by Fëanor and his Noldorin army. Faerbraichon│Oropher - father of Bregolion, Nengeliel, Glaerdor and Thranduil. Husband of Nenglessel│Nenalassië. Lord of House Brethil (House of Beech trees), a noble house of Doriath. Kinsman of Thingol. Hwiniedir│Thranduil - youngest child of Faerbraichon & Nenglessel. Named for his skill with a blade(Whirling one). Bronwe - Captain of Thranduil's personal guard and his best friend.

Glíweniel│Nínimeth - future wife of Hwiniedir│Thranduil. Only surviving child of Lore-Keeper Glíwen, clan Oakheart, and Chieftain Drauchir, clan Wolfstar, the two largest clans of the Nandorin who live in the vast Forest. Healer. Glíwen - Lore-Keeper of clan Oakheart, mother of Glíweniel and Drauchirion, gwathel(sworn sister) of Celebrimbor, the Smith-Lord of eregion. Eglossion - Glíweniel's best friend; a taciturn hunter assigned to her protection by Drauchir after the death of her brother.

“Are you sure you wish to remain here rather than visit Celebrimbor, sellig?” Glíwen asked, but her daughter just nodded.

“You know I wanted to stay home until Medlimel had her babe,” Glíweniel chided.

“You are a stubborn soul,” Glíwen sighed, but she smiled fondly at the willful young elleth. “But you are a good friend, sellig, and I am pleased that you will keep your word, though I will miss you while I am gone.”

“I shall go south after the babe has come.” Glíweniel promised, picking up her mother’s cloak and handing it over.

“Promise me that you will not go alone, sellig,” Glíwen frowned, wrapping the cloak around her and picking up her pack.

“I am not that helpless, nana,” Glíweniel complained, “I have been trained in the bow and the blade, same as any other Silvan!”

“I know, sellig,” Glíwen said, cupping her face, “but,” the sadness in her eyes made her daughter’s breath catch.

“Yes, nana, I know.” Glíweniel whispered. “Eglossion will go with me after the birth and keep me safe on the road. I promise.” Her mother rose slightly, kissing her forehead. Glíweniel nodded, tightening the straps that tied Glíwen’s luggage to the elk who would carry her south.

“Gin iallon,” she said. Swinging herself onto the animal’s back, she shared a final smile with her daughter, before setting off with a gentle command.

“No gelin idh raid dhîn, a no adel dhen i chwest, nana.” Glíweniel called, waving until her mother was no more than a blue speck on the edge of the horizon.

“I don’t like this, Glíweniel,” Eglossion grumbled. “The small birds are silent. Something is wrong with the woods.” Glíweniel knew what he meant, but waved off her prickly friend’s concern when the birds began chirping once more. They continued on for another half league.

“What is that smell?” she asked, before it suddenly dawned on her. Badly burnt meat. At first, she would have steered her elk far away from the smell, the clever animal already turning to avoid it, but the sound that suddenly reached her ears made her spur her mount onwards instead. A pained scream, abruptly cut off. Either whoever had screamed had been attacked and was now dead – or they had fallen unconscious. The healer’s heart that beat in her breast would not let her move on without at least seeing if there was anything she could do to help. Glíweniel ignored Eglossion’s angry yelling; her friend would catch up easily. What she saw when she reached the clearing where the scream had sounded made her wish she had given breakfast a miss. The two ellyn, strangely armoured, in plate that made her think they had come from the west, had obviously been in combat with…something. One of them, his armour rent in places and singed on the left side, appeared to be alive still, but the other… he was little more than crispy, still smoking meat. Glíweniel shuddered. Behind her, Eglossion uttered a low curse.

“We should leave here,” he said, pulling on her hand. At the same moment, the half-burned one moaned.

“We will tend him.” Glíweniel said, her voice brooking no disagreement with her orders. Eglossion cursed again. “Fetch water, and make a shelter. I’ll get a fire going.”

They managed to get the armour off the ellon who was stubbornly clinging to life. Eglossion had grumbled, but Glíweniel had saved the one he called Lachon. Sitting in the tent while Eglossion saw to the burial of the dead ellon, Glíweniel studied her patient. His hair was pale, like moonlight, and his skin, too, was lighter than her own. His armour and sword were of good quality, she thought, though she knew little of metalwork. Her own people favoured arrows, metal used mostly for the long-handled knives they wielded for everything from hunting to eating. Stroking one of the unburnt patches of skin on his good arm, Glíweniel wondered at the multitude of tiny golden hairs that rose in the wake of her finger. The fist he swung was a surprise, catching her above the eye with unexpected force as he screamed. Glíweniel blinked, dumbfounded, staring into his blue-grey eye as the screams continued. “You are safe, mellon, I swear,” she tried to tell him, but doubted he actually heard her. Trailing off to whimpers, suddenly the blue eye rolled back in his head, and the stranger was unconscious again.

Eglossion had sat with the patient while Glíweniel had been boiling the herbs she needed for burn salve, but now he was off hunting something for their supper, preferably a fat bird they could turn into broth for Lachon. She had picked one of the small snowdrops that clustered beneath the trees, once more taking up position beside the cot; though this time she dared not touch him. Eglossion had not liked seeing her split eyebrow. When his eyelids fluttered open, he did not immediately scream, which meant the balm was working, at least a little. Glíweniel had never treated a burn this large before. Picking up her small pot of salve, she tried to speak to him once more, slow and clearly, in case he would not understand her woodland speech patterns.

“Who are you, child of Doriath?” as she spoke, her fingers danced lightly across the burnt skin, smoothing the cooling balm over the burns. The ellon grimaced with pain, but did not cry out – another good sign.

“My name is Hwiniedir, Braigion. My father is a Lord of Doriath. Where am I? Who are you? You are not Sindarin.” He mumbled, slow and painful sounding, as though his throat was sore. Glíweniel thought he might have inhaled smoke from whatever had burned him so terribly.

“I am a Silvan, Hwiniedir. Wood-Elf. I am Glíweniel.” She gave him a soothing smile. His eye-colour really was amazing. “You were found by my friend and I, along with the body of another Elf, both of you badly burned. You are in our tent.” Wiping balm off her fingers with a scrap of mullein leaf, one of her hands began playing with her hair, an unconscious habit. Lach- no, Hwiniedir, followed the motion with the eye he had left, as her words filled the blue-grey orb with tears. The other ellon had been special to him, then, Glíweniel surmised, grieving for his loss.

“There are Sindar in the forest, Glíweniel.” Eglossion barked, flipping the tent open. His face looked distinctly unhappy. “We should leave Lachon for his people to find. Return to our forests.” He had a point, Glíweniel knew, her nana would be waiting in Eregion with Celebrimbor. Still, the thought of leaving her patient to fend for himself made her uneasy.

“He is Hwiniedir, and he is hurt and weakened with loss, Eglossion. We cannot abandon him without knowing he will be found by someone who would not seek to harm him further.” Glíweniel kept her tone mild, but Eglossion still snarled unhappily at her, before ducking outside once more. She heard him pick up his bow, stalking off with a low curse. Hunting something would help his mood, Glíweniel knew, letting him go with a soft shake of her head. “Do not mind Eglossion.” She said, turning back to Hwiniedir. “He does not trust strangers, even our distant kin,” Glíweniel smiled, squeezing his clammy hand.

“Thank you… your kindness is valued.” Hwiniedir’s words were halting, hesitant and pained, his voice rough from smoke and screaming, but Glíweniel heard the low words and accepted them with a brilliant smile.

“Rest now. I will watch over you.” Smoothing back a few pale strands of hair, Glíweniel waited until he was asleep once more, before moving outside, finding the expected bird by the fire where Eglossion had left it. Shaking her head fondly, she began to pluck the animal while a small pot of water boiled in the fire. She would have to spit-roast the bird, she thought, cutting off a few of the fattier pieces to boil with some herbs for a nice broth. While it cooked, she’d clean Hwiniedir’s sword, she decided, humming softly as she set to her self-appointed tasks.

The horse that burst into the clearing made her scream in fright, but Glíweniel was quick to arm herself, pulling the knife she wore at her belt and grabbing Hwiniedir’s sword in her other hand. Her bow was too far away, still strapped to her pack, but she wouldn’t let anyone Man or Elf harm her patient. Snarling at her opponent Glíweniel fell into a low crouch, ready to defend.

“I know that blade!” the armoured stranger cried, his words marking him as Elven, “Give it to me!” Glíweniel believed his words, to a point, but his own naked blade did not make her feel inclined to drop her only means of defence.

“I will not!” she snarled, though it was rather unwieldy, being made for a taller body and shaped for use with two hands.

“I told you, Silvan, I know that sword! It was made for the youngest son of Faerbraichon, and you will tell me how you came by it or I swear I will run you through for his murder!” he shouted, anger colouring his every word and motion. Glíweniel blanched. The sound of a birdcall, an emlin, among the trees behind the aggressive ellon made her feel marginally safer. Eglossion was back.

“I expect she took it from me when she tended my wounds, Captain,” Hwiniedir croaked, making both elves turn their full attention to him.

“Hwin!” Glíweniel cursed loudly. He should not have left his bed; there was no way he was healed enough. Forgetting the ellon with the sword pointed at her back, Glíweniel dropped her knife, wrapping one arm around Hwiniedir’s good side and taking most of his weight.

“Put your sword away, stranger, and face me. You would die before the strike landed!” Eglossion stepped between the trees around the clearing, his longbow ready to fire. Glíweniel breathed a sigh of relief. In her arms, Hwiniedir trembled.

“This is Glíweniel, who saved my life. Have you news of my father, my brothers?” he could barely get the words out, but the whisper reached the apparent captain, who dismounted swiftly with a happy exclamation.

“You live!” he cried. Gliweniel hissed darkly, still not convinced this ellon was trustworthy.

“Eglossion!” she shouted. The Silvan stepped up to the armoured elf, dropping his bow and putting his knife to the captain’s throat. He cleared his throat. With a sheepish expression, he sheathed his sword, giving her a gentle smile. Glíweniel did not let down her guard, keeping herself between the stranger and Hwin – she liked called him Hwin, it was like he was all hers that way… and she really shouldn’t be thinking like that, she knew.

“Captain. Relax. I am in no danger from Glíweniel,” Hwiniedir managed tiredly. “Eglossion is Glíweniel’s friend, be at ease, Captain Bronwe, mellon-nîn.” Glíweniel softened her stance, and Eglossion put his knife back on his belt, stepping over to turn the bird on its spit. Sheepish nods and introductions were made, and Glíweniel forced herself to ignore the way his skin felt pressed against her arm as she forced him back to his cot. He was unsteady, though apparently stronger than she had thought. The captain, whose armour she now recognised as bearing the same marks that Hwin’s had, followed them into the tent.

“Faerbraichon is well, but Bregolion is dead and Glaerdon is missing. Your father sent out all able warriors to search for you. The dragon is dead and will no longer be a threat, but our losses were great. That you live will be news to bring great joy to our Lord.” Captain Bronwe’s smile was fond, and Hwiniedir gave him a weak smile in return. A dragon! Glíweniel had only vague recollections of hearing of such a beast, remnants of the war between the Noldor and Morgoth, she thought.

“I am the last Braigion, mellon. Glaerdon perished before I could save him.” He croaked, coughing hoarsely. So the other one had been his brother? A sudden wave of sympathy overcame her, seeing again the face of her own brother, lost to raiding orcs.

“Amarth bal!” Bronwe swore.

“You are upsetting my patient, Captain Bronwe.” Glíweniel hissed, looking at Hwin’s pale face, which had paled further with the exertions of walking and talking. She had resumed her seat, gently pressing him down flat before swiftly smearing his arm and chest with more ointment, carefully covering the burned half of his face.

“Apologies, Lady Glíweniel.” Bronwe bowed. “Nesto Hwiniedir, dhen iallon.” As if she hadn’t already been doing that, Glíweniel thought waspishly. Doriath-Elves were an odd bunch, Glíweniel decided, but gave him a graceful smile.

“You should regain most of the motion in your limbs, though the scars will remain. The grace of the Eldar will hide your ruined face, and the passing of time might remove the scarring altogether, but the loss of your left eye is permanent.” Glíweniel told Hwiniedir quietly, ignoring the captain’s gasp. She could see in the steady blue eye that gazed upon her face that Hwiniedir had already realised as much, and was determined to be stoic about the loss. She smiled softly at him. Even slathered in goo and smelling like roast, there was something about his smile… “You should remain here until you are strong enough to move, Hwin,” she told him, not even realising that she had spoken his shortened name aloud. She would miss him when he left.

“Bronwe will carry word of my health to my father and our people and return in three days to fetch me,” he decreed, silencing another of the Captain’s protests easily. Glíweniel smiled at his announcement, feeling curiously happy that he wasn’t about to go away right this moment.

“Lady Glíweniel, would you leave us for a quick word? I’m sure my Lord would appreciate a private message from his son. I promise not to upset him further,” Bronwe smiled his most innocent and charming smile at her, but Glíweniel wasn’t fooled in the slightest. Still, she got up with a small chuckle, ducking out of the tent to go help Eglossion with the bird.

“You’re fond of Lachon,” Eglossion said quietly. “No good will come of it, Glíw. The Sindar are not like us, even if we share their blood,” he sighed.

“I know…” Glíweniel replied, stirring the small pot that Eglossion had dropped chunks of meat into, sprinkling a few healing herbs into the water. “but Hwin is… mine.” The designation surprised even herself. Eglossion looked up with an incredulous stare. Then he collapsed in loud guffaws.

“You-“ he laughed uproariously, “you A-AND your nana!” Glíweniel scowled. Just because Glíwen had married an ellon from the North-Woods and caused a minor scandal! Slapping Eglossion’s shoulder with a mock stern look, suddenly Glíweniel too was overcome with laughter. It was funny.

chapter 2 will be up tomorrow.

@life-is-righteous @pandepirateprincess @crimson-coloured-rrain

#Thranduil+wife #thranduil #Nínimeth #Prince of Greenwood

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poeticandors · 7 years

Text

In My Dreams Part 3

Poe Dameron x Reader Anastasia!AU

Summary: Poe and Finn get to know about Y/N and, after little convincing, all come to an agreement to help each other out.

Warnings: None

Part 1 Part 2

Tags are under the cut.

Poe’s eyes widened as he realized someone was inside their hideout and looked at Finn. Motioning for Finn to take cover, Poe pulled out his blaster and stood next to the entrance, waiting for the intruder to show themselves.

While Finn was struggling to find a place to hide, Poe didn’t hesitate on pointing his blaster to the target as soon as they crossed the doorway, only for him to realize it was a young woman.

“I’m looking for Poe Dameron!” The Y/H/C woman yelled out at a startled Finn.

Poe tilted his head to the side, not daring to lower his blaster. Finn was leaning forward on his knees, sighing in relief as he looked the girl up and down.

“Yeah, so is the First Order.” Finn pointed to Poe, who was quickly trying to put his blaster back in its holster. “That’s Poe. I’m Finn.” Without hesitation, the girl turned to find Poe struggling to place his blaster back and took a step back out of slight fear.

“Sorry,” Finn spoke up. “You can never be too careful, especially with the First Order roaming about.” Before the girl could have a chance to reply, Poe cleared his voice.

“What do you want?” The girl seemed baffled at the sharpness of Poe’s tone but decided to ignore it.

“I, uh, was told that you were finding a way to get off of this moon. That you would be able to help me as well?” Poe arched a brow and pushed past the girl towards Finn.

“And who told you that?”

“A droid did. I believe he is yours? BB-8?” As soon as she sad his name, Poe turned to find BB-8 and another droid rolling into the room.

“He is. And I have told him before to not run off or talk to strangers, right buddy?” The droid chirped an apology and the girl walked up to Poe.

“So are you willing to help me? I have plenty of credits and won’t be a burden.” Poe smirked over at Finn, who had a look of pity for the girl. “I am a hard worker. On Jakku I worked on repairing and cleaning up parts and on Coruscant I worked as a waitress.”

“Jakku? Coruscant? Those are a long ways from here.” Finn commented—his voice much softer. “Are you running from something?”

“No… more like running to someone.” She paused. “I am trying to get to D’Qar.” Poe quickly glanced at Finn and walked right up to the girl, who began walking backwards.

“How do you know about D’Qar? Are you a First Order spy?” Poe backed the girl up against the wall.

“N-no I’m not.”

“Then how do you know about D’Qar?” The girl’s demeanor changed and she was now glaring up at Poe.

“Why are you so rude?”

You were now challenging Poe as he stared down at you firmly. Finn (was that his name?) finally decided to step in between the two of you.

“Hey, now, you never told us your name?” Rolling your eyes, you opened your mouth to reply, but stopped when your eyes landed on the beat up insignia on Poe’s jacket.

Immediately, your eyes glazed over and you felt a sense of familiarity wash over you. Flashes of pictures went through your mind—adults, children, and a flash of red—but you couldn’t focus on them.

“I’ve seen that insignia before.” You whispered; staggering backwards only for both Finn and Poe caught you by the arms before you could fall.

The lightheadedness continued as the two men led you to an old chair and sat you down. You continued to stare ahead as someone placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Are you okay?” It was Finn’s voice that you heard and you nodded slowly.

“Yes, I’m sorry it’s just that…” You looked over at Poe and nodded towards the insignia. “I’ve seen that before. Many times in my dreams and I think from before.”

“Well I would hope so.” Poe scoffed. “It’s the symbol for the Resistance. I’m sure you’ve seen it many times.”

“Poe, can you go get her some water? She looks like she might faint.” Finn interjected and you watched as Poe sighed and did as he was asked.

“Thank you, Finn. You seem rather kind… even if your friend is not.” The corner of Finn’s mouth lifted up.

“He usually isn’t so bad. He is just on edge about the First Order and whatnot.”

“As we all are. He isn’t the only one who has to look over his shoulder every second.” You snapped.

Poe returned with a canteen and you took it graciously, nodding thanks.

“So anyways,” Poe began. “Are you sure you haven’t just seen the symbol on another person? It wouldn’t surprise me, there are usually members appearing once in a while.” You shook your head.

“No. It’s significant somehow. But I know I have seen it in my dreams.” You averted your gaze from Poe and swallowed. “Along with… other things.”

“I know you didn’t get a chance to answer, but what is your name?” Finn asked.

“I don’t know.” You said simply, shrugging your shoulders as Finn and Poe exchanged concerned looks. “I was told by some medical droids that a man who had found me said my name was Y/F/N and that they had specific orders to drop me off to the nearest small moon…” The expression on your face fell. “They also told me that I had amnesia, which is why I can only remember so little of my life before.”

“Is there anything you do remember?”

“Only some. I do remember the old man carrying me and talking to the medical droids, but not what he looked like. I remember feeling sad, like something happened and I continued to cry but couldn’t figure out why—like everything that happened before that moment was erased from my mind.” You stopped and looked over at Finn, who encouraged you to continue.

“I also seem to have recurring dreams every night. I don’t know if they are really dreams or if they are memories. But, I am constantly dreaming of a dark room and I hear a voice whispering something about D’Qar. There are also some with many children running around on an island, and the name Tay is often being spoken as well.” You noticed how Poe suddenly seemed more interested, his eyes widening.

Your eyes closed and you released a shaky breath before continuing.

“But, I also see flashes of fire and hear echoes of screams and I can’t do anything to help whoever is in need and it just seems so real.” Your voice began to shake towards the end and you looked over to Poe, whose harsh demeanor from earlier was now replaced with a softer one. “You just don’t know what it’s like not to know who you are.” It was quiet for a few moments—no one daring to speak—until Poe got up and pulled Finn to the side, leaving BB-8 and R9 to roll up and try comforting you.

Finn pulled his arm out of Poe’s grasp.

“Poe, what—“

“Buddy, I know this may sound crazy, but I think she may be the girl.”

“Girl? What girl?”

“The girl! The one that was adopted along with her brother by General Organa. The same one whose body wasn’t found along with Luke Skywalker after Kylo Ren went on the rampage.” Finn squinted his eyes a bit and leaned his head forward.

“What makes you so sure?”

“She said she keeps hearing someone call out the name Tay, right?” Finn nodded. “That was the name of the General’s adoptive son. He was the twin of the missing daughter, Talia. It can’t be a coincidence.” Poe took a look over towards Y/N, her Y/E/C shining as she continued talking to the two droids.

“She even looks like her too.” Poe mumbled quietly to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Poe shook his head and walked up to the Y/H/C girl, who curiously glanced up at him.

“Y/N, have you been hearing about the rumors about the General’s missing daughter, Talia?” Y/N tilted her head.

“Of course, who hasn’t? But, that’s all they are, right? Just rumors?” Poe shrugged his shoulders.

“They might. But even if they are, who’s to say that they might not be true?”

“Y-yeah, Y/N,” Finn stuttered. “Who’s to say that she isn’t sitting in this room right now?” Poe pulled out his holo and a picture of a young Talia appeared.

Y/N stared at the picture—they did have the same hair color, same eyes, and smile—but then shook her head as she stood up and stared at the two men.

“Wait, wait, are you two trying to tell me that I could be the General’s missing daughter? Her Force sensitive daughter I might add.”

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Poe placed the holo back in his pocket. “You don’t know who you are—“

“And no one knows for sure if she died when Kylo Ren raided the Jedi temple.” Finn crossed his arms across his chest.

“You’re looking for your family in D’Qar and her only family was in D’Qar.” Poe watched as Y/N’s posture stiffened.

“What do you mean was?” You looked up at Poe, a solemn look on your face.

“Well, D’Qar was the location of the Resistance base, but with the recent events, they have had to look elsewhere. A certain moon which is exactly where we are to meet the General.”

“Okay,” You raised your hands in the air. “You two are beginning to sound crazy. Let’s go, R9.” As you turned to walk away, Poe called out your name.

“Don’t you want to know who you are?” This caused you to stop in your place. “This could be your only chance—or at least one step closer—into finding out who you really are, Y/N.” Poe’s voice was soft, and the way your name rolled off of his tongue caused your face to grow warm.

After a moment of no response, you finally sighed and looked at Poe and Finn.

“You’re right.” Poe and Finn exchanged quick glances. “This could be my only shot at finding out something about who I really am. And even if I’m not her, we could just tell the General that it was all a big misunderstanding—that I meant no harm and was just trying to see if I belonged to anyone.” Poe’s face beamed and he took a step closer.

“Of course! A big misunderstanding.” You could feel a smile begin to form, but it soon fell.

“But wait. How do you become the person you’ve forgotten you ever were?” Your eyes darted up to Poe. “How are we going to prove that I really am her? I’m not Force sensitive... I think.”

Tags: @purelittleblueberry @phantomgirl2298

Permanent Tags: @geeksareunique

#poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron #star wars imagine #finn #bb-8

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