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enchantinglyjade · 2 years

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Milk & Honey - Ch. 27 (The End)

Austin!Elvis x Black!OC

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Summary: Colonel is finally out of the picture and Elvis and Honey embark on a new journey together

Warning: Swearing

Note: It's been a long ride guys. Sad to see her go, but excited to move on to new things. I hope you liked this series and maybe even could relate to my work or characters in some way. And lastly, as promised, a happy ending ❤️

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In the end, Elvis and I finally left Colonel, and with the help of his little mafia crew we were able to pay off his debt and leave him for good. Luckily, I was able to calm Elvis down before he did something radical to The Colonel or to his career. Soon enough, Elvis was back touring around America, making back his fortune like it was nothing.

We’ve been on the road for about 2 weeks now and I was in the audience each and every time to support my husband. But one day I decided I could use a break from the same set list and started looking into some of the other performers in town that night. There were a few concerts going on, so the city was filled with talent and I wanted to expand my music taste and knowledge. I, of course, was immediately stopped on my way out by a man dressed in a red jumpsuit and shiny, gold jewelry.

“Where you think you’re going?” Elvis questions, backing me into a nearby wall in the hallway of our hotel. He smirks while he traps me between the hard plaster and his body.

I shrug guiltily. “Was thinkin bout goin to see a show or somethin.”

He furrows his brows. “Why?” He asks, genuinely not understanding.

I laugh at his confused expression. “Why? I wanna hear some new music, baby, that’s why.”

“Why you wanna see anybody else perform when you got me every night?” And that’s when I knew I’d be seeing his show again tonight.

He grabs my chin, swiping his thumb across the skin just below my bottom lip and meets my eyes in a tender gaze. “I need my Bumble out there in the audience. S’nice looking out there, seeing my wife all giggly over my moves.”

I smile, a new title I have yet to get used to. A deep blush rises to my cheeks, and I immediately try to hide it away. He wants none of this behavior and follows my embarrassed expression with his eyes and begins kissing all over my face until I turn towards him again. “Elvis, please, someone could come out of their room and see us.” I say with a giggle, still trying to escape the tickle of his kisses.

“I don’t give a damn, I’m tryna give some sugar to my lil’ mama.” He grumbles against my neck, eventually pulling away to meet my eyes. “Come to rehearsal with me.” My eyes widen. Usually he likes rehearsing with just him in his band, I assume so he can concentrate better, why does he suddenly want me there?

I follow his guiding hand through the hotel and to the back of the stage, where I find Charles already waiting, flirting with some of the backstage girls. I roll my eyes. So many people didn’t believe me when I said he was Elvis’ boy, look at him now. Still, it’s weird seeing him look and act so grown now.

Elvis takes me out onto the stage, which shoots nervousness through my veins despite the seats in front of me being empty. The room is huge when I’m in the crowd, but from this angle it’s ginormous.

A clunk echoes through the speakers and I turn to see Elvis messing with his microphone. “Honey bun, come ’ere for a sec.” He wiggles his fingers to gesture me over and I come, smiling at his band as I pass them by. “Sing som’in for me.” He demands softly and casually. My stomach drops at the words and I look at him like he’s crazy as he forces the microphone between my hands. I gulp nervously at the piece of equipment in my grasp. You’d think after doing this so many times, it’d start to get easier but it never does. “Come on, show em that smooth like honey voice.” He smiles flirtatiously, thumbing over my shoulder nearest him.

My mind only flashes with his songs, so I settle for one on the set list tonight. I start, singing softly into the microphone, feeling awkward that I had no music to sing to, but once the band recognizes the song, they happily join in. I smile, singing slow and seductively in a teasing way towards Elvis, which he responds to with a warning of a head shake, but a smile nonetheless.

I couldn’t help but laugh at our difference in styles however. Growing up we heard the same music. The blues of the house parties and the gospel of the church. Funny how our paths diverged. While his heart followed the church over time, mine stayed in the dirty pit of that house party. While I continuously sang about desire like a temptress, I remained, mostly anyways, inexperienced and pure. While he sang about the heavens with his angelic voice, he reeked of lust. He was the perfect balance between sinful and godly.

“Baby.” He says, pulling me close once I finish singing for him.

I lower the microphone, holding onto his arms. “Yes?”

“Sing backup for me.”

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “What?”

He chuckles at my dumbfounded face, wrapping his arms around me and dropping his voice into a whisper. “You can sing back up with the Sweet Inspirations. Your voice fits right in and I want you to be my lead girl.”

I pause. “Are you serious?” I ask through the hopeful grin pulling at my lips.

He smiles back at me, pleased by my reaction. “More serious than I’ll ever be.” A hum vibrates through my throat as he places a kiss on my forehead. “I want you to sing for me. That way I can keep a better eye on ya too.” He says with a wink.

The next few days we spent back on the road, which was exhausting, but thrilling. Now that I was a backup singer I got to experience the concerts in a whole new way that I never imagined, not to mention I got to stare at Elvis’ ass for hours each show. I loved being able to watch him get lost in the passion of the music from up close, and he’d tell me he felt more at ease knowing I was always close by. It’s cute he worries so much, but better than that, I was back in business.

“There she is.” Elvis greets me with open arms a few minutes before showtime. He takes in the dazzling, golden dress I have on, a dress that reminded me of the one I wore for my first performance when I was a young girl.

And like that, we were on the stage again, back in Vegas as usual. He sang his normal songs, but now with my voice following close behind him. We even recorded a few duets together while I was learning how to record songs on my own.

He stands before the crowd with his arms out, taking in the applause as he finishes his song. The clapping comes to a slow and he raises the mic back to his lips. “Thank you everyone.” He says out of breath, slowly taking backward steps. “but I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for my baby.” And with that, his hand extends for mine which I happily take with a big, cheesy smile on my face. “Honey, lay me down some sugar, baby.” His head reaches around my mic and I meet him for a kiss, causing the crowd to go wild.

Of course, people still had things to say, when didn’t they, but after this long we learned to easily ignore them. My dreams had come true and that’s all that mattered now.

Speaking of dreams, now that Charles was growing into a teenager, he started taking his acting passions more seriously and with the help of Jerry, started landing some small parts in films to get him started. He was already becoming a such heartthrob in the eyes of many, just like his dad.

Once the show is over, Elvis and I take a walk down one of the lone streets near the Bellagio to catch a glimpse of the giant water fountain while it dances in the night above the crowd of all the other watchers. It was just one of our ways of cooling down after a show and getting some alone time away from all the noise.

He leans over the barrier, resting his elbows on the concrete fencing. “You know everybody always wanted me to be their superhero, but I only ever wanted to be yours.”

I turn from my spot, meeting his eyes, watching the nightlife reflect off his blue orbs. “Lotta people wanted me to be their princess, but I only wanted to be saved by one superhero.”

He hums in response, now looking down at me. “And who would that be?” He asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

I shake my head with a smile, sneaking under his warm arm. “You know who.” I whisper.

He kisses the top of my head with a chuckle, before resting his cheek against my forehead. “I finally got my baby. I can die happy now.” He wraps his other arm around me, causing me to smile while I close my eyes and return his embrace.

At this moment I had no other care in the world. For once I felt unstoppable, and after years of feeling powerless and letting others make me feel unworthy, I finally found my way in the world. I had relived my parents' love story and came out victorious and I can only hope they’re somewhere up there proud that I accomplished what they never could. It took work and loss, but I’m free now. Free to love.

“You and me against the world, baby.”

Note: I hope you guys enjoyed the series! Not gonna lie, I was originally going to kill Elvis off but I promised a happy ending, so here you go. Thank you to all my followers and readers for supporting me and this story! ❤️

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satans-helper · 8 months

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Reaching for Stardust - Part XVII

Read Looking for Space here / Playlists / Read RFS on wattpad or read previous parts here

Word Count: ~4000

Warnings: none:)

This chapter took me ages to write! But it ended up being quite a fun one. Hope you enjoy <3

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“I can’t believe the boys actually wanted to go to a club,” I said from the passenger seat of Josh’s Jeep. Although it wasn’t a super long drive to get to the city and to see our kinsmen again, I was glad for the break in the harsh winter weather that made the journey smoother–instead of the ice-slicked and snow-covered roads we’d been struggling to get used to again, the highway was clear and dry, the snow kept to the sidelines. The woods lining the interstate were still coated in a seemingly perpetual layer of white which seemed to sparkle a bit with the rare and warm sunshine, the sky a wall of gentle blue and sparse clouds, the sunlight strong through the windshield. I was actually beginning to feel too warm with the heat from the vents and the sunshine licking my skin, bundled up with anticipation of the worst. You never knew when things might change. But underneath my coat, I was already in my “going out” outfit–a midnight blue sequined top with a deep v neckline that was slightly itchy on the inside but not enough for me to sacrifice it, a black skirt and matching sweater tights to complete it. Sequined black heels too, which made me notably taller than Josh, which he seemed to actually love.

“It is a little surprising,” Josh agreed, also dressed in his New Year’s Eve celebration outfit–gray, almost silvery, pants and a matching jacket, a white shirt underneath, all topped off with a mixture of silver and gold jewelry. I figured we’d both be sparkling quite a lot throughout the night. “Then again,” he continued, turning down the heat after he saw me close one vent. “I think they’re always riding on the high of a much busier life these days. Going out to a whole myriad of places is more natural for them now.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” I looked out the window again, following the treeline with my eyes, imagining how much fun those three boys must have after their shows. Josh and I heard a lot about those nights, sure, but it would be so different to be a fly on the wall. Or to actually be there.

“Jane didn’t wanna drive down with us?”

“She’s already there,” I said with a laugh, pulling out my phone to check again for texts from her, though I had a feeling there would be none. “She drove down yesterday.”

“Oh, they had a sleepover?”

“Yes. Imagine that.” Yup–no texts. I clicked my phone shut. “I’m assuming it all went well since she hasn’t texted me at all. Did Jake text you?”

Josh chuckled. “Nope. And why isn’t Bev joining us tonight?”

“She’s got another party to go to.”

Josh gave an exaggerated, offended scoff. “Would this other party be better than spending the night with us at a club called Pearl, drinking overpriced champagne and smoking all of Sam’s weed?”

I laughed. “I think she just doesn’t wanna hang out with Sam, honestly.”

I saw Josh’s lips twist a little. “Ouch.”

“No, no, it’s not like she hates him or anything,” I assured him. “I think she’s still attracted to him but knows he’s not interested anymore. So it’s easier for her to take a step back.”

“You think that or she told you that?”

“She told me. More or less.”

“Well,” Josh said, shifting in the driver’s seat. “That makes me a little sad. Bev is great. Is this going to make their places in the wedding awkward?”

“She assured me that it won’t,” I told him and, for once, I actually really wasn’t worried about it. “She’s hell-bent on finding some hottie at her party tonight and bringing them home.”

“Oh, is that right? I hope she achieves her goal.”

I reached over to briefly toy with his earring. “What’s our goal tonight, Josh?”

He giggled and swung his head to the side to evade my intentionally ticklish touch. “Our goal, my darling, is to get absolutely wasted and have the best time ever.”

“Which we will be doing again in like, two and a half weeks.” I shuddered, not from any slight chill in the car but from the anticipation. “At our wedding.”

“So?”

I smiled, using Josh’s own smile at me to turn the nervous anticipatory energy into unbridled excitement. “So let’s do it.”

Pearl lived up to its name which, in my own naivety, I hadn’t expected. Then again, I should have known that Sam especially would only go to a club he passionately approved of, which meant it wasn’t going to be a cesspool or anything even remotely close to “subpar.” Still, I hadn’t been prepared for the slick white light, the shimmering waves illuminating a glossy, excited crowd, hot, scantily clad bartenders and servers passing out colorful cocktails in slim glasses, and certainly not the very not Sam music, which was pulsating and electric. The sound felt like it was vibrating through my bones as the entire lot of us made it past the exceptionally well-dressed bouncer and headed toward the bar.

The place was packed despite it being early. It wasn’t even half past nine, yet a throng was caught up at the bar, some people leaning over the counter in desperation while some stood back, shoulders straight and taut, eyeing the bartenders with impatience and contempt.

“I’ve never been to a club where so many people were actually dressed up,” I noted to no one in particular while I surveyed the people squishing against our group. Even the people who didn’t look fancy were sparkly enough to make up for it.

“How many clubs have you even been to, girlie?” Sam asked, a cheeky smile on his face while he stayed close to Danny, who was one of the people leaning over the bar. The two of them were dressed up–Sam was in silky, shiny creamy fabrics with a bold pop of red from his jacket, while Danny was in black and indigo. I could even see faint traces of black eyeliner around Danny’s long lashes–oh, how things had changed.

“This makes two,” I told him, earnestly proud of that fact.

Danny fell back into line with all of us and said, “It’s gonna be an eternity before we get drinks. Should you guys find us a table or something?”

“Yeah, what exactly are we doing here?” I asked, trying to peer past the crowd ahead of me for spare tables. There were people sitting on the edges of the club, but on free-standing stools, not tables, and with my strained leering I could see a dimly lit hallway that piqued my curiosity. I tugged on the sleeve of Sam’s jacket and asked, “What’s back there?”

“Actual tables,” he told me, giving Danny a shove to get him struggling for the bartender’s attention again. “There’s also a big patio out back.”

“There’s also another bar in there,” Jake said, tilting his head and looking at Sam with his eyebrows raised. “So why don’t we try that?”

“Tag team it,” Sam suggested, lifting his arms to gesture out at the hallway and back behind himself at the bar. “Us here, you back there.”

“And WE will find all of us a table,” Josh added, linking his arm with mine.

“My god,” I said, too quiet to be heard over the music while Josh and I navigated through the crowd, Jake and Jane just a few steps ahead of us. I raised the volume of my voice to say, “What do you think about this place?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Josh called back to me, pivoting to avoid being elbowed by a man shoving his way past us to, presumably, get to the bar. “Visually, I don’t dislike it. The music, however, I’m not sure about.”

I wasn’t either. The fast beats that had been laced with electric pop sounds had been replaced with what sounded almost like strange, electronic remixes of goth metal songs. “It’s like whiplash,” I had to shout back to Josh.

The dark hallway was lit with strings of fake pearls, all dripping from black wires that almost entirely disappeared into the walls, and then we were in an even larger room where there were indeed tables. I sighed with relief–the space was marginally quieter, though the same songs filtered in my eardrums, and the bar was entirely visible. I watched Jake take Jane’s hand and zig-zag through the other patrons to reach it as I cleared my throat, the air so full of so many different colognes and perfumes, smoke and sweat, everything dry and dank at once.

With the volume of the music so loud, Josh and I resigned to sitting next to each other in mostly silence, primarily communicating with facial expressions and hand gestures–a sour face from me when a man in a pleather jacket and way too much Axe body spray walked by, which made Josh sniff after the man and laugh hard into my side. The wait for drinks continued, and Josh’s eyebrows lifted and his lips parted in awe while he pointed at two girls headed to the bar, one in a purple sequined mini dress and the other in a longer, flowy, glittery teal dress.

“Matching!” Josh said, leaning against my shoulder to get right at my ear. “Kind of.”

I nodded, my eyes following the shift of those purple sequins until the girls disappeared into the sea of people, then caught a glimpse of red and black headed our way–Sam and Danny, respectively.

“My fucking god,” Sam said loudly as soon as he was within six inches of our table. He set down a try of six shots that he’d been carefully cradling the entire way as Danny set down a separate tray holding four different cocktails.

“It’s nice that they gave you trays,” I noted, tapping the one holding the shots which was all iridescent and cream colored. “So fancy.”

“You didn’t get Jake and Jane drinks?” Josh asked, scanning the tray of cocktails that all looked unfamiliar. “What are these anyway?”

“Different house cocktails,” Danny said, pointing at each one as he explained them. “This red one is called something like ‘Cherry Divine.’ I think it has amaretto in it.” He pointed at a bubbly, almost clear drink with a strawberry garnish in a shorter wine glass. “This one has champagne in it but I can’t remember what else.”

Sam shoved those two at Josh and I, clearly ready to get on with it, and took the last two for himself and Danny. “Okay, yeah, drinks,” he said with a huff, running one hand through his hair. He picked up a shot for himself and gestured at the tray. “Let’s do shots already.”

“Wait, wait,” Danny said, laughing, and grabbed Sam’s arm. “We have to wait for Jake and Jane.”

“There they are!” Josh said victoriously, standing up and waving an arm out at the pair headed toward us, another tray of shots in Jake’s hands and another tray of cocktails in Jane’s.

“Long wait,” Jake needlessly explained as he lifted the tray of shots over his head while shoving past a different couple going in the opposite direction. With a deep sigh, he set it down once he was finally at the table and Jane set her tray down in tandem, then they both looked incredulously over the four trays holding the copious amounts of alcohol.

“So are we gonna do all these shots right now?” Jane asked with a laugh, sitting down across from me, the silver and purple glitter in her fine, tulle-like top catching the light.

Jake sat down next to her and finally Sam and Danny joined in their own chairs, the table bouncing a bit as Sam slid in too hard. “We really should,” he said, already reaching for two of the shots. He and Josh were actually the least sparkly and shiny of us all, with Jake taking a little note from Danny with his all-black ensemble. “I’m feeling fairly desperate for a cigarette now.”

“Me too,” Josh echoed, passing me a shot next. I sniffed the clear liquid, discovered it was tequila, and grimaced. Josh just laughed and said, “You’ll need one too after this, won’t you?”

Twelve shots down the hatch, two for each of us, most of us wincing with each one; we sipped our cocktails as chasers and sat there amongst the excitable crowd, all of us turning our heads one direction, then the next, to take in the atmosphere.

New Years always felt strange. There was so much expectation, but for what? Josh and I tried–and succeeded, honestly–to make the best of it every time it came around. The harsh, dark, bitter cold winters ended up being no match for a rowdy night full of multiple bottles of champagne, loud music, card and board games and the inevitable midnight kiss which always led to sloppy, fun, giggly drunk sex. This year was the first in a couple years we’d gone out, although last year we had also ended the night with not just the two of us.

Looking away from the strangers and back to all my friends–my new family–I began to wonder what next year’s celebration would look like. There had been a night recently where I’d been texting Danny, mostly about wedding stuff but also about band stuff, and the latter proved to be more interesting–I’d known how talented all the boys were and I’d seen their success grow more and more over time, but I hadn’t known just quite how serious it was becoming. Danny wouldn’t tell me details–he swore that he couldn't–but apparently big things were happening. Bigger than all the other big things that had happened. And with the sudden onset of a wicked buzz in my head from the shots and somehow downing half my cocktail without even realizing it, my mind lingered on the mystery and the trepidation that came along with it more than I cared for.

“Is anyone feeling daring enough to dance?” Josh asked, scanning each and every one of us with bright, mischievous eyes.

“Can anyone dance to this?” Danny asked, tilting his head, eyes looking up. “I don’t even know what I’m hearing.”

“I’m gonna need a few more drinks before that happens,” Jane said, and I voiced my agreement.

“Patio?” Jake offered, gesturing to the vague backdrop where the patio must have been waiting, and was probably just as congested as the inside of the club.

“Are we really ready to risk losing our table?” I asked, though I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to stay in any longer once the music changed yet again. The bass was even louder than earlier, aggressive and juxtaposed by swooping, high-pitched vocals. Maybe later on they’d start playing more familiar tunes. I turned to Sam and asked, “You chose this club? May I ask why?”

“Okay, alright, the music absolutely sucks ass,” Sam agreed, lifting his cocktail. “But the drinks are good, it’s busy, it’s kind of cool. Sue me for wanting us all to do something different for the new year.”

“No one’s gonna sue you, but I do really want to see you dance now,” I told him; Josh smiled and gave an enthusiastic nod while Jake snickered behind his drink. “You know, to make up for it.”

“I would also like to see you get down with these strange, terrible songs,” Danny chimed in, nudging Sam with his elbow.

Sam roped an aggressively affectionate arm around Danny’s waist and brought their faces close together. “Only if you do it with me. You’re the one with all the moves.”

The patio out back was less crowded but still full of life, although most people had covered up their festive outfits in favor of jackets and coats to shield against the cold. Some brave girls didn’t cover up at all and I wondered how they were standing out there without, at the very least, shivering violently.

The city street in front, mostly devoid of trees, sent wind hurtling back to us but the vague sort of tree-lined courtyard behind the fence–also covered with string lights of fake pearls and tiny, glittering white stars–shielded us a bit from the other wall of cold air. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself and Josh pressed himself to my side. My hand that was holding my drink was already becoming frigid and a little stiff; I went to put the other in my coat pocket but Josh grabbed it and held it, his hand warmer while he rubbed his thumb over my knuckles for a few seconds, then he let me go to fish for his cigarettes while Jake pulled out his own and Sam whipped out a joint.

No one else around us cared about what we were doing or who we were–while I shared that American Spirit with Josh, I wondered to myself if Jake, Sam and Danny were reveling in their anonymity. Someday, they might not have much of it. But tonight, we were all strangers to the rest of the club-goers, just another posse looking for a good time and to ring in the new year with lights, glitter, alcohol, smoke and that excitement that some people like to say only comes once a year. Meanwhile, I was sure I felt those butterflies, the anticipation, the bundle of buzzing sparks every day with my sweetheart, who stayed close to my side and whose fingers brushed against mine each time we passed the cigarette back and forth.

We smoked; we drank; we danced. Danny really did have the moves, I was reminded of again–I hadn’t seen any of the boys dance in so long that I couldn’t stop laughing with pure delight when Danny was the first to get out on the dance floor and force himself to jive with the music. I watched Sam watching him, then he swept out to meet his best friend and long, gangly limbs moved alongside Danny’s more built ones; it didn’t take long for Jane to pull Jake along by the hand, giggling enough for him to laugh too, and Josh and I watched them all until the song changed. Then he was doing the same thing–grabbing my hand and yanking me into the crowd, into the circle of our very best companions, while the clocks around the Eastern time zone ticked minute by minute into the night, while everyone forgot all the bad things that had happened in the past twelve months.

Pearl had their own ball to gradually drop in the last minute of the night and, of course, it looked like a huge, shiny, opalescent pearl. It twirled in the air, sparkling in the lights from the extra layer of jewels and sequins coating it, as some people kept dancing, ignoring it, some kept dancing while watching it with their heads tilted up and fixed in the same direction, while some people stopped entirely to focus their full attention on it. It was a mixed bag in our group–Sam and Danny kept dancing as if the ball didn’t exist. Jane and Jake swayed together slowly, side by side, watching the molasses-slow drop, as if the music was something gentle and light. Josh gathered me in his arms and swayed us together too, my back pressed to his front, and I had a hunch we were both imagining the giant fake pearl as the moon outside–the moon that would ascend, not fall, on both, on all, of us in just a few more nights.

Despite the club being more or less a total mass of strangers, most people all chimed in together for the final ten second countdown of the ball drop. Sam and Danny did too, which prompted the rest of our group to join, all of us so drunk and stoned that every second of camaraderie felt like part of a huge, profound mission. In a way, I think it was–getting through any year was a feat every person should celebrate.

I felt an excited sort of trembling in my bones, my eyes wide and too clear given the amount I’d drank as I followed the descent of that opalescent orb hanging overhead like it really was the moon. The moon displaced, an artificial but still significant moon that had been created just for us, for all of us who danced, laughed and consumed beneath it.

When the chanting of counting became a roar of nearly synchronized cheers, before Josh spun me around, I saw Sam grab the sides of Danny’s face and pull him into a shocking, searing kiss. My own laugh in response at what I’d witnessed caught in my throat, a hand flying up to my mouth; I saw a flash of dark hair that I knew was Jake going in to kiss Jane, then Josh was in front of me as my mind went dizzy for a moment. But when he pressed us back flush together, facing each other this time, and his mouth met mine. I blinked into velvet darkness and felt like we were the only two people in the universe for a brief, blissful moment.

“So…” I began, slurring the single word, while Josh and I were undressing in Danny’s room. Now even more unsurprisingly, he and Sam had volunteered to share Sam’s room and leave us in Danny’s, and I had saved this juicy gossip until Josh and I were alone. It hadn’t seemed like the best thing to bring up with all six of us crammed into an uber on the way back to the boy’s house, although even in the dark confines of that SUV, Sam and Danny hadn’t hidden touches of their hands and the pressing together of their thighs.

“So..?” Josh countered with a sly smile at me not having finished my thought. He stumbled as he tried to take his pants off, helplessly hopping around on one foot until he careened over to prop himself up with the edge of Danny’s bed.

“So,” I began again emphatically, raising my eyebrows at Josh while I unzipped my skirt. “Did you see what Sam and Danny did when the ball dropped?”

“I caught a glimpse,” Josh replied with a chuckle, then a grunt of effort as he struggled to kick his pants all the way off. “Given how things have been going for a while, can’t say I’m surprised. Anyway, who doesn't want to kiss Danny?”

I laughed and nodded. “Totally, right? But yeah, not surprised, just surprised to see it, I think.” Standing in just my bra, tights and underwear, I grabbed my overnight bag to rummage through. The pajamas I’d packed felt luxuriously soft, comforting and inviting against my fingers, the electric energy of our celebration night dwindling into the usual drunken sleepiness.

“Everyone’s pairing off!” Josh said with a dramatic flair of his voice and a dramatic whipping off of his shirt to the floor. “What are we going to do?”

I laughed, tossing him his own pajamas from his bag. “Who do you think will get married next?”

“I can’t even think about that.” Josh stripped down to nothing at the same time I did. “I almost didn’t remember you and I were getting married until just now.”

I let out a loud laugh while the soft cotton brushed over my chilled skin. “You’re a little liar. I’ve thought about it a lot tonight, actually,” I told him, looking away from his nude form to find my travel toothbrush. “It was a really enchanting night. I didn’t expect it–not with the music and the club being, like, what it was.”

“It was a great night,” Josh agreed, achieving a little more balance while he got his PJ pants on. “Now it’s a new year–what are we gonna do with it?”

I paused at the bedroom door, toothbrush in hand, head and heart thumping: “We’re gonna get married and we’re gonna have the time of our lives.”

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kaeyachi · 1 year

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Hiiiiiii

I’ve got some questions about your big brother Haitham AU if you’re willing to indulge my silly little invested self:

- So I know Kaeya’s new skin is what inspired this, but I’m wondering if that’s what you think his normal outfit would be, or if like the skin it’s really just a costume so he doesn’t have many opportunities to wear it? Or it doesn’t exist and was just an inspiration lol

- I’m assuming his vision would be a Sumeru one, so would there be any be any differences on it to the typical ones(like how his Mond one only has two wings), or maybe there’s a Khaenri’ah star back like the one in his skin?

- What age are Kaeya, Haitham, Nilou, and Kaveh all in your AU?

Hi anon! I'm glad you liked the AU so far! I'd be glad to answer your questions!

Q1: I have been thinking about what he should wear for a while because his costume is ornate, so not too reasonable to wear daily. Unfortunately I've been coming up with a blank for a fully-formed look :( So far, all I want for his usual Sumeru clothing is that should have the fluffier fur and the tight pants from his original Mond outfit, partnered with something loose and flowy for the top (gold jewelry and dark blue gems too!). I think I need to search for more inspirations for this... he keeps the braid though!

Q2: It is a Sumeru one! He does not lose some wings or details, unlike what happened in Mond, but he does ask a Ksharewar scholar to make him a Khaenri'ahn star frame for it. The difference is how he gets his vision. Kaeya will never be fighting with Alhaitham because Alhaitham already knew. Alhaitham is ruled by his logic after all (Alhaitham and Kaeya also have a larger age gap than Diluc and Kaeya's, so the way he was treated when he confessed was different). He knows he is allowed to belong in both thanks to Alhaitham's straightforward reasoning and upbringing. He will not receive a vision during the confession but will instead later get it in life thanks to a different event occuring hehe

Q3: Here are my age HCs!! (based on canon age math? and a bit of tweaking)

Alhaitham (13) Kaeya (8)- they meet for the first time

Alhaitham (18) Kaeya(13)- their grandmother dies (Alhaitham gets to gain custody of Kaeya)

Alhaitham (19) Kaeya (14) Kaveh (21)- Alhaitham and Kaveh start their joint thesis. Kaeya gets to watch how it all falls apart

Alhaitham (28) Kaeya (23) Nilou (25) Kaveh (30)- start of Sumeru archon quests

Additional notes:

While the Kaeya skin being compared to Alhaitham's outfit made me ponder on this AU, what really cemented my interest was how oddly similar they actually are. Both are great strategists and quick thinkers. Their acting skills are also incredible. I think Alhaitham's mindset and philosopies in life would greatly help Kaeya in figuring out what to do and what to think. In turn, Kaeya's compassion and natural charisma helped Alhaitham with understanding other people better. They'd be good for each other's development.

#big bro alhaitham au #kaeyachi asks #im really happy people are considering this au!!#thanks for the ask anon!

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myfavsmasian · 2 years

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Crows and Rings || Eddie Munson x reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie woke up in a haze still a bit hung over from the previous night that was filled with the usual smoking, drinking and other less than healthy activities. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and face, Eddie slowly hobbles over to his desk where he kept a little tray of his bulky rings only to find he was missing his favourite skull ring that Wayne gave to him on his 17th birthday.

“Shit, where did it go.. Wayne is gonna skin me alive.” He mumbled to himself as he went around his room and trailer in search for said ring. However, after maybe an hour or two of rewardless hunting, he realized that someone could’ve taken it last night, thinking it was theirs. But then again, who gets that hammered in the first place anyways? With that thought in mind, Eddie tosses on some sweats and a jacket he had lying around, probably from last night and headed for the door.

Bouncing from porch to porch, his search remained fruitless as he began to feel defeated as he came up to the last trailer in his park, which was oddly surrounded by crows and shiny junk such as bottle caps, fake gold and silver chains, and even some expensive shit that looked a bit rusty.

‘Well there’s no time like the present’ Eddie sighs to himself as he makes his way up to the front door of your very humble abode while dodging a crow or two to ask about his ring. To his surprise, it only took three knocks for you to show up in front of him.

Answering the door, you have no idea what you were expecting, but you certainly weren’t expecting Eddie Munson in the flesh standing in front of you with wide, gleaming eyes as he scans your face.

“Oh, isn’t this a pleasant surprise. What can I do for the legend, Eddie Munson?” You inquired with a tone mixed with amusement as you looked him up and down with a playful glance. “Well princess, it seems as though you have something of mine around your neck.” He chucked still fixated on your soft groggy expression. Looking down, you realize the only thing you figured he could be talking about is the bulky, black skull ring attached to a thin metal chain as a makeshift necklace.

“Oh, this thing? My crow friends gave it to me as a little gift. I thought it looked a bit familiar.. sorry about that Eds.” You bashfully sighed as you reach back to take off the ring from your small chain. “Oh no it’s fine princess, at this point I think it looks better on you.” He points out, a small blush dusting across his features. “Wanna come in?” You asked seeing as he looked rather… less than ideal shape. Chuckling slightly, he obliged. “Well if you insist babe.”

Moving past you, he catches glimpses of your charming trailer home, scattered with shiny trinkets and pretty stones. Heading to the kitchen to make some coffee for the both of you, you can’t help but feel kinda bad for basically stealing your boyfriend’s favourite ring. “Hey hun, is it actually okay that I keep the ring?” You mumble as you sit next to him on your couch. You assume Eddie detected some shame in your voice when he reached for your face and put his hand on your cheeks. “Of course baby, I wouldn’t trust my jewelry to anyone else.” Sharing a chaste kiss, you both giggle a little bit at the events that transpired as you both reminisce on the night that led to all of this.

Prompt credit goes to:

willowsgrl

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

Text

Chloe's Lament Part 2

Next part of Chloe's Lament. Chloe begins to learn of the changes to reality from her Wish.

She will not be happy about this.

____________________

When Chloe woke up, the first thing that struck her was the loud banging sounds from somewhere below her.

The second thing was pain.

“I have a headache!” She called out, laying an arm over her sleep mask-covered eyes. Her butler would hear her and respond accordingly, of course. He always did.

“And get them to stop that racket down there!” She flopped on her bed with a huff, waiting for the help to return with aid.

Really, the things she dealt with!

Normally, her butler would arrive immediately, with painkillers and fruit-infused water being presented to her within a minute.

But to her growing frustration, that minute came and passed.

Then two.

Three…

Not that Chloe was counting.

Eventually, it had been five minutes and there was still no word from the man. And to make matters worse, that damn banging from below was only getting louder and increasing her suffering.

“Ugh! Do I have to do everything myself?!”

She ripped off the sleep mask, only to wince at the level of brightness in the room. She was on the top floor with the best visibility but the windows were supposed to be tinted and covered to prevent this very thing!

Once her vision cleared, several things should have stood out as odd.

But the first thing to attract her notice was the sleep mask she had just removed—some cheapo dime-store brand. She tossed the rag away with a shriek.

“Is this a prank?!” She demanded. “That is not my personalized diamond-studded satin custom made facial mask! Jean? Jean!”

There was a ruckus from below. The sound of something being dropped. Footsteps—loud and fast and getting closer. Then the opening of a door.

“Precious! Is everything okay?”

She sneered at the sound of her father’s voice.

“No! My sleep mask was stolen, it’s too bright, my head is KILLING me and no one is getting me anything to help!”

He looked confused at that. “Are you out of Efferalgan in your bathroom cabinet?”

She gave him a look. Why would she have to get up and go to the bathroom for some painkillers when there should be someone to hand them to her?

He gave her a strange look in response. Like he was confused his daughter would expect someone to do something as simple as bringing her painkillers and water.

And water.

Preferably cherry-infused.

Was that really so much to ask? Or even require asking?

“Just…hang on a moment.” He said and left her her bathroom.

Finally.

With nothing to do but wait, she glanced around, noting that…this was not her room.

Not the one she knew, anyway.

The light that had blinded her before was from a central window overlooking the room that so obtrusively settled on her bed. In addition, there was a skylight placed above a nook set behind her bed, which brought more light into the room.

She vaguely recognized the room. Well, by its floor plan, at least. The layout and decor threw her off though. The furniture and items were clearly cheaper than her usual high end designer brands. But she saw aspects that were suited to her tastes. Minute indications of her own touch in the assortment of objects around her. Yellow and white as the themes. Black cushions and aesthetic.

It was…decent. But so beneath her it was embarrassing! These were cheap models! Practically plastic! The bedsheets were…ugh…cotton of all things! The lamps were dim! She was missing her boudoir! And her shoes! And her jewelry! She didn’t even want to imagine the nightmare that was her closet—it was practically a hole in the wall! There was no way it would fit everything!

“Here you are, dear!” Her father said, returning from her bathroom with a glass of water and a pill in hand.

She fought the grimace.

Was this tap water?

Gross!

By his expectant look, he clearly meant for her to drink it.

With her continuing headache and no better option for fast relief, Chloe reluctantly took the proffered items. She was unable to help the slightest grimace before she downed them both.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be getting back to setting up for the morning rush. Come downstairs to the bakery when you’re ready.” He looked almost relieved to be leaving.

Chloe barely took notice now that she had what she needed. Instead, she took to contemplating her situation and her new surroundings.

All the furniture aside, this room looked familiar. Not really well known, because Chloe was sure she had never been in such a place before. But…like she had seen it somewhere…TV maybe?

And her Daddykins was here. That meant…wherever she was, it was apparently expected for her to be here.

But where was here?

The last thing she remembered was…

She closed her eyes, straining to think past the pain.

That’s right! Hawk Moth’s offer! The Bee! She was Miracle Queen! And she had just won! She had Ladybug beaten…

Her fists clenched.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng…

It hit her.

This was just like her room!

She had only seen it a couple of times. Once for sure when Sabrina had snuck into her room per Chloe‘s instructions for blackmail material. She happened to glimpse a picture of the room here or there from other people’s phones of times that they had spent in this room—that she had really cared. It was a small and dingy room that had nothing on her glamorous abode at the hotel, which of course, was superior in every way.

She was vaguely reminded of that one show that Marinette hadn’t stopped talking about which had also apparently shown Marinette‘s room, but Chloe honestly hadn’t been bothered enough to watch it, so she didn’t have that to go on. But with what she did know, it was a safe bet to assume that this was some knockoff of Marinette‘s room.

So why was Chloe here? Why was her dad downstairs?

She… she had made the Wish, hadn’t she?

…

What…is this it?

She turned up her nose at the environment around her, completely unimpressed.

Was this dinky little room with its weird setup and tacky decor what the Wish gave her? Why would she be in any copy of Dupain-Cheng’s room layout anyway?

The Wish should have changed reality, that much was clear. There was no way she would be caught dead in Dupain-Cheng’s room otherwise—much less sleeping there like it was her own room!

…unless…it was her room?

Was it?

She had found some aspects of the room to her taste, but did that mean this was hers?

It would explain why she was there. And why her Daddy had come up. He had mentioned her bathroom earlier, then had gone through the nearby door to get a tablet and water from what she could only assume was the bathroom he had spoken of.

…he had mentioned a bakery.

Eyes wide, she stumbled out of bed and to the window. Sure enough, the school was just across the way. And there was a sign out front.

“Bourgeois Bakery”

Chloe stared.

Suddenly, it clicked. The banging from downstairs. Her Daddy talking about a ‘morning rush’. And to come down to the…

…no way!

This place was a bakery! Her Daddy was operating a bakery!

And given her location, it was the same bakery that Marinette’s parents owned originally!

This…

…wait…

…did this mean she was supposed to be Marinette?

She threw her pillow in a fury.

Stupid Wish! This wasn’t at all what she wanted!

You would think all-powerful Wish-granting artifacts would do it right!

“Where are those kwamis?!” She demanded, jumping out of the bed and looking around for anywhere she would keep such important jewels. “I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!”

She had a boudoir along with the various jewelry pieces kept there ranging among a variety of gold and diamonds—all fakes, much to her disappointment. And not a single Miraculous among them.

She slammed the final drawer in with a curse.

Nothing!

If she had the Miraculous, shouldn’t they still be with her? Do they just disappear after being used?

Ugh! Those things really were useless! Utterly useless!

It was when she stood back to full height that she noticed the monthly calendar. There were the standard holidays, but also a weekly appointment every Friday evening with some ‘Bridgette’. What was that? A spa day?

She shot a glance to her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. She definitely needed one. She could just feel all the oils on her skin!

But more to the point, there was one day circled on the calendar.

‘Start of School’

She grabbed her phone—an older, obsolete model with a glittery but fake casing—and checked the date.

That…

That was today.

It was the first day of school. A…

She checked the date again, and sure enough, it was a year ago!

Had the Wish taken her back in time?

She froze, realization hitting her.

This was the first day of school. The same day as the first akuma attack.

And when Ladybug first appeared.

That meant…she was sent back in time to the day Marinette would become Ladybug.

It was a year in the past. She wasn’t at the hotel. Her room was in a bakery. Her father was working as a baker. She was Marinette now.

That meant…

She giggled, feeling a giddiness rise within her.

Today was the day she becomes Ladybug!

It looks like the Wish did something right, after all!

Chloe grinned, spinning away from the mirror and to her closet.

She had to get ready! She had to prepare the perfect outfit! Something for the day she becomes a hero!

No. THE hero!

She knew how the Ladybug worked. Hell, she knew the akumas to come. With her prior knowledge and skills, she would know how to use the yoyo and how to use the Lucky Charm better than the old Ladybug ever did! She’d have every akuma in the bag!

Hell, maybe she could force the Ladybug kwami to tell her where the Guardian is so she can get the other Miraculous, too! That way, she could have both the Ladybug AND the Bee again.

And her Adrikens would be her partner! To support her! To stay by her side! Just as it should be!

She paused, something niggling at the back of her brain. There was something she was forgetting.

A glance around the room as she wondered

Of course, the full extent of the change and just what that meant didn’t really hit her until she went downstairs and actually saw her father.

The poor man was in the middle of retrieving a pan lined with croissants from the unbearably hot oven, his hair contained in…fishnet? Latex? Whatever the cafeteria cooks wore when she had no choice but to eat from the school’s lunchroom.

Gross! He looked like a lunch lady!

He didn’t seem to notice her, too busy dancing around the kitchen and checking over the…whatever pastries those were and just looking proud of himself.

Daddykins, no. You’re better than this! How could you be reduced to such a state?

He seemed to notice her staring. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, looking concerned.

“Er…yeah.” She replied. She wasn’t, really, but she couldn’t tell him that. He could try to have her stay home and how would she get to see the fruits of her labors from there?

“Ah good!” He said cheerfully. “It is the first day of the new school year, and you certainly want to…” He hesitated, “…start off on the right foot.”

A pause. He looked at her expectantly, but she had no idea what he was getting at.

He shook his head and turned away for a moment to grab a box before coming back and presenting it to her.

Clearly he wanted her to take it, so she sighed and took hold of the box. A peek inside revealed a number of macarons.

For her? Now this was what she was talking about!

“Oh, Daddykins! You shouldn’t have!”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I figured it would be a great way to start off the new year by sharing them with your classmates.”

Ugh. Seriously? All happy feelings vanished in an instant and she shot him a petulant look.

“Why should I have to share?” She demanded.

He hesitated.

She glared, tapping her foot in a clear indication of wanting an answer. Or preferably for him to just say they were all hers.

“It’s a new year and a new start.” Andre said, smiling nervously. “Maybe it’s time to just let bygones be bygones?“

It was a stupid question and she sure let him know it. She stared at him flatly, causing him to wilt.

Andre sighed.

“I know you don’t like her, but…” he hesitated. “Please, just try to get along?”

She blinked.

“Her?”

Wait.

Wait…

It suddenly struck her.

If she was Dupain-Cheng now…

That meant Marinette was in her shoes!

She grinned.

Marinette would be her bully! She’d be the rich bitch daughter of the Mayor and loathed by Paris while Chloe would be—

The one everyone rallied around.

The one Adrikens adored.

The one chosen as Ladybug!

She would have it all!

Part of her hoped the other girl would know about the previous reality…just so she could shove it in her face!

“Just take it slow,” he continued, unaware of her true thoughts. “And then you can report about it to Bridgette at your counseling session on Friday.”

Wait—counseling?

Seeing her expression, he held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

“I know you don’t like it, but it was part of the agreement. You need to make a better impression this year, sweetie.”

“What?”

“She’s the daughter of the Mayor. I’m not sure we can take another…” He trailed off before shaking his head and looking at her imploringly. “You understand, right?”

Oh.

She got it!

“Of course, Daddykins!”

Clearly Dupain-Cheng was abusing her influence, just as she thought!

She had to hand it to the girl…a part of her hadn’t been quite convinced that she would go quite that far. But that just proof that Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so perfect and that even she would be the same as Chloe once in her position!

Chloe knew she would have to bear with the mistreatment for now. No matter how much it would grate her. It would suck to have to have to accept it for any period of time.

Still, it would be worth it! It just meant even more ammunition to use against her once Chloe was Ladybug!

She didn’t even notice the look of concern he gave her or his weak goodbye as she left the bakery with the box in hand. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. Particularly her plans.

And what plans they were!

So what if Maribrat had Chloe’s wealth? It wasn’t like she knew the first thing about status or being a symbol. No, Ladybug did that for her and she didn’t even use it right! Not like Chloe would.

She smirked to herself, imagining the future.

Well, as soon as she got the Miraculous, taking the pigtailed down a peg would be the first thing on her list. Maybe a dip in the Seine? Or ‘accidentally’ getting her hit by an akuma or two?

Why limit it to her personally? If Ladybug spoke out against the mayor, who would vote for him? From what she remembered of Marinette’s dad, that oaf had no business being in politics anyway! Then there was the hotel, which would no doubt be a mess with him in charge anyway.

And best of all, she thought with glee, with a word from Paris’s favorite hero, Dupain-Cheng could be implicated as an ally of Hawk Moth.

Who wouldn’t believe it? If Marinette was in Chloe’s place, that meant she had to be a brat despised by Paris. Everyone would likely jump at the excuse to run her out of the city!

It was slightly disappointing that the former Ladybug wouldn’t know why the new Ladybug was so against her or that she had even been replaced, but she didn’t deserve answers anyway.

For once, Chloe was getting everything she wanted. It was like the Universe itself was on her side! Chloe would be the hero with all the Miraculous and status just as she’d always deserved. And everyone would automatically see it and love her while they would already recognize Marinette as the selfish bitch Chloe always knew she was!

It was a win/win for Chloe and all her fans—which was the best kind of win for Chloe.

Sure, it meant she would have to suffer the loss of her basic comforts like a butler, the latest in fashion and accessories, and easy immediate access to a luxury spa for now…but it would be worth it in the long run.

…maybe not the luxury spa. She would kill for the hotel’s oils and masseuse. But she would just have to deal with, ugh, scheduling with a four star locale in the meantime.

It’s for the greatest good, she reminded herself, looking mournfully at her chipped nails.

And besides, she didn’t have to suffer for long.

Today was the first day of school, which signified the first appearance of Ladybug! This was the day she achieved her destiny! Once she became Ladybug, she would be back on top!

So what if her dad was a baker instead of a hotel owner this go around? Who said it had to stay that way? Just as she could use her position to defame the Dupain-Chengs and ruin Marinette, she could endorse the bakery for free publicity. Do special promotions and deals for money. Or even better! She could make the city pay her for her work!

After all, how much was her Miracle Cure worth, really? How much would the city be willing to pay for her to fix the damage caused by akuma fights? It was only what she was owed; the least they could do is compensate her for her time.

Really, it was Marinette’s own fault for not taking advantage while she could. She could’ve been an idol or the city’s star. She could have used the Miraculous to create an army. Hell, Hawk Moth should have been nothing against her! And instead, she just…wasted her potential. On things like loose zoo animals or out of control helicopters, no less!

Chloe wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

And now that Chloe was set to be the city’s hero…

Even if Marinette was rich (for now), it would be nothing compared to what Chloe would have. She would be Paris’s hero! The BEST hero! And unlike that has-been, she at least would use Ladybug’s power and status right!

She didn’t need to be the daughter of the Mayor! Her Mother was still THE Style Queen, Audrey Bourgeois. Adrien Agreste was still her best friend. She was still Chloe Bourgeois, the best thing to happen to Paris! And now as Ladybug, she would still be back on top and ruling Paris in no time!

And it would all start once she got to school.

“Get out of my way!” She exclaimed, shoving some old fart taking his sweet time walking, sending him to the ground and out of her way.

Move aside, peons!

Her destiny awaits!

Back at the intersection, Chloe never noticed the way the elderly gentleman cast her a judging stare from his position on the ground. Or his muttering.

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you okay?” Came a voice.

“Ah, yes!” He replied, accepting the offered hand and taking stock of the girl it belonged to. She was young. In college, likely. “Thank you, young lady!”

“Of course!” She smiled, handing him back his cane. “Do you need help getting home from here? That looked like quite a fall.”

“But don’t you have somewhere to be?” He asked.

“Just school, but I can spare a few minutes if you need…?”

“There is no need for that.” He shook his head. “I will be fine, thank you for your concern.”

Yes, he decided with a smile as he watched her go, this one will do.

_________________

Ugh, walking. Who invented such a thing? She couldn’t wait until she had a personal limo again. This was so not good for her!

Chloe continued plotting as she walked, magnanimously choosing to consider this as part of the reason for revenge instead of its own thing.

And speaking of revenge! Let’s see…

She scrunched her face, trying to remember the events of the first day of school.

There had been that fight with Marinette over her seat. ‘My seat now’, she realized with glee. ‘Which means I’ll be back next to Adrikens!’

Where she should be.

And if she and Dupain-Cheng were now supposed to be switched, that meant ‘the horrible bully Marinette’ would be picking on ‘poor sweet little Chloe’.

She couldn’t wait!

‘Let’s see how you handle being in my shoes, Dupain-Cheng!’

She giggled to herself, ignoring the weirded out looks she was getting from some passing students.

Or the way the other students in general seemed to give her a wide berth.

As they should for the real Queen Bee of this school!

She was already imagining how this was going to go. And with the classroom only a few feet ahead, her vindication was already so close she could taste it!

Except when she finally arrived at the class, it was immediately clear that something wasn’t right.

Dupain-Cheng was there as expected. With her same kiddie pigtails and her pink and grey ensemble with polka-dots—what kind of designer was she anyway?

What wasn’t expected, however, was that Cesaire was already was there as well.

Originally, Cesaire defended Dupain-Cheng and they became friends. If things played out the same, shouldn’t Cesaire be coming in late? Or standing up to Dupain-Cheng here? If anything, they already seemed to be friends.

Unless Cesaire was Dupain-Cheng’s tool like Sabrina had been for her?

It made sense that this new reality would swap more around, she reasoned.

Except…

Chloe frowned. Now that she was actually close enough to the classroom, she could see the classmates gathered into a sort of half circle around Dupain-Cheng and her follower. And as she reached the doorway, she could more clearly hear what they were saying.

“—at the Le Grand Paris.” Marinette said, gesturing to Alya with a smile.

“Wow!”

“So cool!”

“That’s awesome! So you’ve just been staying at the hotel until you can get settled in?”

Alya nodded, smiling. “Yeah. At least for a little while until we could get our own apartment. Mr. Dupain-Cheng was really accommodating. Luckily, we didn’t need it for long before Mom found something. She didn’t want to take advantage of his generosity, but it’s just really amazing that he was willing to offer us room and board just to have Mom as part of his staff!”

Chloe raised a nose in disgust.

Who ever heard of such a thing?! What hotel made any profit letting people stay for free?

“We met when I was cleaning rooms and she offered to help!” Marinette explained brightly.

Chloe nearly gagged.

Cleaned?

Marinette…actually cleaned the hotel?

Why do something that gross?

That’s what the help was for! And Sabrina.

Speaking of, where was she?

Chloe glanced around, but Sabrina was nowhere to be seen amongst the classmates.

Maybe the Wish had done more than switch her with Dupain-Cheng? Maybe Cesaire and Sabrina had been switched as well? So that meant Sabrina should be the new transfer, right?

No wait, that didn’t add up. She had just walked in on Cesaire being introduced.

Sabrina was probably just her best friend, then.

She nodded.

That was good enough, she supposed. At least if she couldn’t have her necessities from the hotel, she still had Sabrina to take care of the more mundane tasks for her.

Unaware of her thoughts, Marinette had continued talking to the others unhindered.

“—said she would be coming to Francios Dupont, and I knew I had to introduce her. She’s new, so be nice.” She instructed, giving a stare to Kim in particular. “Kim.”

The taller boy raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll give her a week before any challenges.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “Challenges? Dare I ask?”

Everyone groaned.

“No dares.” Nino begged, covering his face with his hat. “Please. Kim is bad enough every year. I still can’t look at the hotel without remembering what happened last time…”

“Yeah, your dumb dare got us banned from the hotel’s pool for a month!” Alix said, pointing at Kim, who shrugged helplessly.

“Speaking of the hotel!” Marinette cut in, pulling out her tablet. “I convinced my dad to let us do this year’s work study at the hotel.” She tapped her tablet. “I have a little bit of influence over what they’ll choose as assignments, so we can try to come up with roles everyone will like.”

“Hey yeah! That sounds awesome!”

The classmates crowded the desk, chatting excitedly.

“So where will everyone go?”

“Maybe Kim and Max in security? Or Alix and Max in security, so Kim could work the pool area.”

“As a lifeguard?” Kim asked cheerfully. “I’ve done some training, after all.”

Marinette sent him a wry look and pretended to be thinking it over. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe as a pool cleaner?”

Kim pouted. “No fair, Mari!”

“Hey, it would do you some good to learn the cleaning process for the pools you use so much.” Mylene said, half jokingly and half pointedly, making Kim lower his head and groan.

Marinette giggled a little. “Well at any rate, I’ve set up a list of all the different jobs at the hotel so people can mark their top preferences. Between all the options, everyone is bound to find something that’ll suit them best.”

She sent Adrien a knowing look. “And of course Adrien will be in the kitchen.”

Adrien beamed at that.

Not that Chloe noticed.

“Kitchen?!” Chloe squawked. “You’re going to make my Adrikens work in a dirty old kitchen?!”

She had known Marinette would be bad, but how dare she punish Adrikens like that? She could just see it now! Her poor Adrikens, forced to slave away in a room meant for servants like…like he was a servant! Where he could get covered in grime and burn his precious skin!

Everyone frowned at her, as if she was the one being ridiculous!

The boy in question raised his hand.

“But I want to—”

“That is a flagrant abuse of power!” Chloe shouted, slamming a hand on the desk. “She’s making Adrikens work like a maid! What if his father hears about this?!”

Adrien wilted in on himself.

“The kitchen isn’t dirty or old.” Marinette said, sounding annoyingly calm with a terseness in her tone that Chloe had heard some service workers use when dealing with particularly difficult customers—though why they used it with her was beyond her. It was as if Marinette was acting like she the reasonable one dealing with an unreasonable customer or something. “They just finished the remodeling three months ago, we clean it regularly, and all of our utensils and equipment are taken good care of.”

“That’s not the point!” Chloe shouted. “How could you use my Adrikens in such a way? Gabriel Agreste would never approve when he hears about this!”

Because he would be hearing about this! Chloe would make sure of it!

“I could just explain to Mr. Agreste that this would be for good publicity.” Marinette suggested. “I’m sure he would allow it.”

She knew it! There were really no lows she wouldn’t go to!

“You’re really pushing this! And you call yourself Adrikens’ friend!” Chloe pointed at Marinette accusingly. “Just because your Daddy’s the Mayor doesn’t mean you can treat people like they’re lesser than you!”

Marinette frowned, looking uncertain as her gaze flickered between the others.

Hah! Even in Chloe’s position, Marinette still wavered easily and she couldn’t hide her insecurities to save her life. It was why she always gave in in the end! Anyone would roll over someone showing such an obvious weakness!

Hell, she may not even need to wait to see her taken down. This was a perfect opportunity to lead everyone in rising up against her tyranny.

After a few seconds, she turned back to face Chloe, no doubt to attack her for challenging her and show her true colors—

“Chloe, are you okay?”

Huh?

“My Dad just runs the Hotel. He isn’t the Mayor.”

What?!

“My Mom is. You met her at your…” She hesitated, sending the others a glance before lowering her voice, “…meeting, remember?”

She had to bite her tongue regarding the ridiculousness of Dupain-Cheng’s mother being the Mayor. Was that woman even a French citizen?

But it was the other part of Marinette’s statement that concerned her. What meeting? What was she even getting at? Why was she trying to be quiet about it.

Nevermind! She’d worry about that later!

“It doesn’t matter!” Chloe shouted, forcing Marinette to back away. “The fact is that you can’t just throw your weight around to get your way and treat people however you like! And I’m not the only one who feels that way!” She exclaimed, turning to the classmates in expectation.

…only to get a number of blank or confused stares in response.

“Um, what are you even talking about?” Alya asked incredulously.

What?

“Yeah, dude! Marinette doesn’t treat anyone that way.” Nino added.

What?

“The only one who pulls that sort of thing is you.” Said Nathaniel bitingly.

Since when does that loser talk?

And also, what?!

“And aren’t you supposed to be leaving Marinette alone?” Alix asked, giving Chloe a pointed look.

What even was that about?

“I thought that was the agreement.” Mylene said quietly.

Seriously?! Was everyone on her side?

They were supposed to be silent! Or judging the Mayor’s brat! That’s what they did with Chloe! Instead, they were jumping to her defense!

“Are you serious?” She demanded. “Like she doesn’t abuse her power and authority to push people around!”

“Of course not!” Marinette insisted. And then to Chloe’s rage, seemed to draw herself up even more, actually looking confident and self assured in a way Chloe herself had never felt in her place. “As the daughter of the mayor, I have to set a good example.”

Ex…

Example?

What even was that?

Unaware of Chloe’s short-circuiting, she continued. “And Chloe, I wouldn’t force anyone to do a role that they don’t want. That’s why I brought the list here for the class to review first.” She gestured to her tablet. “That way everyone has a chance to pick what roles they want and we can avoid the ones no one wants to do. How is that a bad thing?”

It wasn’t, admittedly. But Marinette wasn’t supposed to be the one doing it! That was the problem!

“And who put you in charge?!” Chloe demanded of Marinette. “Why are you deciding where we’ll do the work study? What, are you using the Class Rep position to flaunt your family’s hotel?”

It would make sense. Chloe had been the Class Rep for years originally. If Marinette was her…

Marinette just gave her a strange look.

“No. I’m not Class Rep, remember?”

Chloe balked.

“What?”

“Chloe, did you hit your head?” Marinette asked, sounding worried. She held a hand out in offering. “Do you need to go to the Nurse’s Office?”

Chloe jerked away from the girl’s outreached hand. Why would Dupain-Cheng still be acting…nice?

Clearly she must still be pretending!

“Nevermind that! If you aren’t the Class Rep, then who is?”

“Your benevolent dictator is here!” Came a voice. A familiar voice. The last one Chloe expected.

“Hey, Class Rep.” Marinette said, giving Chloe a pointed look while waving to the person behind her.

Chloe turned slowly. She had to force herself to move. The strain made it feel like her bones were creaking.

Behind her, Sabrina stood tall with a tablet in hand and looking…surprisingly well for a new reality as a lackey of someone other than Chloe. She almost didn’t recognize her.

Chloe stood straight, expecting the standard greeting.

To her shock, Sabrina didn’t even look at her, instead moving past her to…

“Wow, Marinette! Nice jacket!” Sabrina said first thing in greeting as she moved over to the other girl in interest.

Marinette blushed at the praise. “Thanks! My dad got me some new fabric and I was inspired to try this style!” She gave a wink. “Now this is just a test run to see how it works out.”

“It certainly looks comfortable.” Sabrina said in awe.

Were…were they ignoring her?

“I have some of the material left.” Marinette said. “I could make you your own for your birthday if you want?”

Oh gag! Why would anyone want Marinette’s tacky creations instead of the latest in season creation?

And there was Sabrina looking like that was something to be excited about!

Oh no! Without Chloe to guide her, she had lost any sense of fashion! No matter how much fuller her hair was or how she no longer looked like a strong wind could blow her away!

Clearly, her life was a tragedy without Chloe!

“And I checked like you asked.” Marinette continued, unaware of Chloe’s glare. “My Dad said we could do the work study at his hotel.”

“Thank you!” Sabrina cheered. “That’ll be one less thing to worry about.”

“Yeah, we were talking about that when you came in.” Marinette explained.

Chloe glared pointedly at the girl over the way she was blatantly ignoring that they had been in the middle of Chloe calling her out! Seriously, what was the point of getting to tell people off for their flaws if they were going to ignore you and pretend it never happened! Really! You can’t just ignore the truth like that!

“We were discussing what positions everyone wanted.” Mylene said. “Even if we can’t get the exact ones we’d like, there’ll at least be options.”

“Juleka and I can clean the ball room!” Rose exclaimed. “It will give us a chance to check the acoustics of the room. We’ve been wondering about the effects and what to expect if our band ever plays in such an area.“

Nino looked intrigued at that. “Hey, that does sound like a good idea. Maybe sign me up for that as well?” He asked, turning to Marinette before mumbling to himself about the echo effect on his beats.

Marinette gave him a nod before turning back to Rose. “I heard you guys just started, didn’t you?“

Rose nodded, beaming. “It’s so much fun!”

Marinette smiled and marked it down on her list. “Then I’ll suggest that for you.”

She paused for a moment, hesitating in clear unwillingness to continue before giving a strained smile.

“And Chloe...”

“How about trash cleanup?” Alix snarked, giving the girl a dark look.

“Excuse you?!” Chloe shouted in outrage. “Do you know who my daddy is?!”

The looks she was given were completely unimpressed.

“A baker?”

“And not even a good one.”

"Hey, his croissants are all right."

Chloe blanched, remembering that her father wasn’t the mayor in this world.

He wasn’t even rich.

He was just a baker now. A simple ordinary not even very good baker who was barely keeping his head above water trying to maintain his business and manage his teenage daughter.

And that made Chloe…

Nothing.

Her go to tactic now had no power.

But…but Sabrina! She realized in a flash that her minion was apparently the Class Rep! She could have her back her!

But when she spun around to look, the girl had actually just abandoned her and the gathering altogether to sit next to Mylene of all people! Mylene! And they were just…chatting! Since when did those two spend time together! And why wasn’t Sabrina there for her?!

“Chloe!” Came the only voice worth listening to.

Oh, Adrikens! Of course you would always be there for her!

She spun to him in expectation. Because of course her Adrikens would be on her side! Her savior! Her only ally against such cruel tyranny—

But he didn’t look happy. Or in any way amicable to her. “Don’t forget!” He whispered sharply to her. “You’re still on probation! You can’t start another commotion before the first class of the school year has even started!”

Chloe blinked.

Pro…

Probation?

…

Her?!

“How am I on—?!”

It was impossible! She had never had a criminal record! She’d never even committed a crime! Or anything that warranted getting in trouble over!

Regardless of what Ladybug said, since she clearly had it out for her.

“Just leave Marinette alone.” Adrien whispered, turning her away from the rest of the group and…her. “Please.”

She didn’t want to. There were so many questions and so many things she wanted to demand right now. She was very well inclined to make demands regardless, because she didn’t know what was going on and she needed answers.

But it was her Adrikens asking.

And she didn’t have much chance to say anything else as Bustier had chosen that time to arrive.

“Welcome back, everyone!” The woman greeted cheerfully. Her arrival cut off all other discussion as the students made their way to their desks. “I hope everyone had a good break and that we’re all ready to start the new year.”

A chorus of affirmations followed as everyone took their seats.

Everyone except Chloe, who was glancing around the room in confusion.

None of this was right.

She had expected to fight with Marinette over her seat to get to sit behind Adrien, but he was sitting at the back next to Nathaniel. And Marinette was sitting in the mid row on the other side from him, pulling Alya to sit next to her. But if she wasn’t sitting behind Adrien, what was even the point of challenging her for her seat?

…where even was Chloe’s seat?

She would have sad next to Sabrina, but that traitor hadn’t moved from her spot next to Mylene and left no room for Chloe! And nobody else was calling Chloe over—so if someone else had taken Sabrina’s place as her best friend, she had no way of even knowing who it was!

“Chloe,” Bustier called to her, ever so gently. “Your seat is up at the front, remember? As we discussed the last time we met.” She gestured to the bench at the front.

It was across the one Chloe had sat at previously, being the front desk closest to the door. And to her frustration, there was no one sitting with her! How else was she supposed to get her assignments copied? And wasn’t that the seat that loser, Nino, had been put in because he got in trouble? Chloe wasn’t in trouble though!

Adrien’s words about probation hit her, making her wince.

…was she?

She wanted to ask. She wanted to stomp her foot and demand the answers she deserved.

But Bustier was staring at her expectantly. And she could hear some giggles and snickering from behind her the longer she waited. She glanced back to Adrikens, but…he wasn’t even looking at her! He was conversing with Nathaniel over something on his sketchbook!

How could a sketchbook be more important than his best friend?!

With little other choice, Chloe slid into the front desk, blushing furiously in humiliation and trying to ignore everyone behind her.

It didn’t matter.

None of them mattered!

None of this would matter once she got the Miraculous and put Dupain-Cheng in her place! Then everyone would know SHE was the Queen Bee!

She was sure of it!

#ml fic #chloe's lament #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #kwami swap #plagg #be careful what you wish for #chloe is not careful #chloe is a horrible person #miracle queen

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crimsonrae · 3 years

Text

Drowned Desires

Summary: Pirates plunder wasn’t always jewels and gold. Sometimes their bounty was flesh. Captain Cavill had found his treasure in the shape of a feral woman.

Pirate!HenryxOFC

Warning: Kidnapping, coercion, trapped, spanking, ultimatums, dry humping, masturbation. Dark Themes below. read at your own risk.

A/N: I have written and rewritten sections of this several times, but it took nearly deleting it all by accident to get me to post. I hope you all enjoyed.

Drowned Desires

Wooden planks whined and groaned as waves licked and lapped at the ship's underbelly. It was a familiar tune, as much as the heavy thumps of feet upon the deck, the clash of swords, and the cries of men – so familiar that the Captain heard none of it as he perused the papers and trinkets hidden away in the desk of his now fallen counterpart.

His men never understood his predilection for ship diaries and official correspondence, not when there were shinier prizes at hand. Yet, he understood what they did not...information would always fetch a far higher price than any piece of jewelry – not that he didn’t take his share of that too.

A faint smirk spread lazily across his lips as he drew his finger across beautifully inked letters that denoted the mark of nobility. His mind already hungered for the letter's contents – for what could nobility want in the Caribbean wild?

“Captain!” Sapphire-iced eyes flicked to the cabin door with disinterest before returning to his venture, “Captain!”

With a roaring slam, the door flew open to reveal his first mate, but he was not alone. A wild maelstrom of silk impressively blocked the large man from view as guttural grunts and screams filled the cabin.

Henry raised an innocuous brow as he watched the virulent struggle, silently amused by the brief glimpses of frustration on Brooks’s face as he maintained his hold on what Henry could only assume was a feral girl.

“Be quiet!” Brooks barked, finally having enough as he shoved the girl to the ground. His bulky frame took up the entirety of the cabin’s exit as he glared almost mutinously at his captain.

Henry licked his lip and smirked before peering curiously over the edge of the wide desk to the sprawled form below. A mass of hair flipped back to reveal a startlingly beautiful and mature face. Unbidden, lust stirred within his veins.

Not a girl, then. A woman.

A very angry woman, Henry mused as he sat back and stared at his first mate, “Is there a reason why she’s not locked in the stores with the others?”

“She ripped Thatcher’s ear clear off, Captain. He’s demanding recompense.” Brooks intoned wearily as he kept a watchful eye on the now oddly quiet woman.

Henry’s brow arched higher, if possible, as again he leaned over the desk to take in the fallen woman. She was paying him no mind, having come to her knees. Her eyes shifted about the room as if looking for an exit or a weapon. It was then that Henry was able to note the faint glimpse of red staining her skin – not on her hands, but her neck and mouth. It wasn’t hard to deduce what Thatcher had attempted that had cost him his ear.

“I take it young Mr. Thatcher, is currently being attended to which is why he’s not here to plead his case.” Henry murmured, as he took in the long line of her throat and the gentle swells that teased the hem of her bodice. Blood had stained her flesh here too, but he found his cock twitching despite her dishevelment. He could see why Thatcher had chosen her.

“Aye, Captain.”

“And what say you, woman?” Henry queried lightly, smirking as her gaze finally alighted on him. Wariness, fury, and a touch of fear – but not as much as he expected, “Should I let Thatcher have his pound of flesh?”

She said nothing, her fine eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. It made him want to grin. How had Thatcher missed the fire she emanated? But then, the deckhand was not the brightest of his crew.

Henry tilted his head, “Oh, don’t play mute now. Not after the ruckus of your entry.”

He barely had the words out when something wet hit his cheek. If it were possible the entire cabin stilled, even the creaking of the ship had quieted. The captain’s amusement with the situation had disappeared as he stoically wiped the spittle from his person.

“I suppose I should be grateful to still have my ear.” He muttered with deceptive gentleness as he leveled a cold stare onto the woman. She stiffened in preparation of an attack, but none came as his attention turned back to his first mate, “Leave us.”

There was a moment of hesitation before the cabin door swung shut with as decorous a roar as it had been opened. To the woman still kneeled on the floor, it was almost like hearing a nail pounded into her coffin. There was little point in trying to leave. She would merely end up on the deck with the savage crew that had taken the ship hostage. If she were lucky then she might make it to the water, but that was only a slower death.

“What’s your name?” His words were measured and deliberate, “And do not spit at me again lest you wish to feel the back of my hand.”

“...Mary.” She muttered after a moment.

Henry snorted, her pause had given her away, “Too pious a name for you. Try again.”

She huffed indignantly, but acquiesced, “Elowyn. Elowyn O’Dara.”

There was a faint lilt to her voice that agreed with her name, though even this moniker seemed too tame for her spirit, “Ms. O’Dara, why aren’t you locked in the stores with the other passengers?”

If eyes were daggers, he’d be dead as her glare became pointed, “Your man already told you.”

“Surely, you don’t simply have a predilection for tearing off ears – or shall I say a taste.” He prodded, wanting his suspicions confirmed, “What exactly provoked you?”

“He looked at me funny.” Elowyn hissed bitingly.

Henry pursed his lips, a reproach on the tip of his tongue when better sense prevailed him. Despite the grand silks she wore, her gown was ill-fitted. The sleeve came within a breath of falling off her shoulder and her speech while refined was far blunter than any gentlewoman. He had a new suspicion about his little spitfire.

“Is that all it takes?” Henry taunted as he towered over her. Well aware that her dangerous mouth was aligned to an appendage far more valuable than an ear. In fact, it was the image of her mouth and that appendage which enticed him to draw closer still, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze and avoid undue embarrassment. He swore that he could feel her breath even through the thick leather of his trousers.

Elowyn growled, though the flush of her cheeks belied any indifference, “Why should it take more?”

“I think it would take more.” He stated quietly. His finger curled under her chin and urged her to stand. He wanted the full measure of her. Not the defiant victim she had curled herself into.

The fabric of her gown swished and whispered as it draped around her body like a protective cloak. Her eyes sparkled wildly at him, warily – like twin pillar flames of a candelabra. He had no doubt that she would attack him as fervently as she had his man if he were to push his luck. He was tempted to try anyway...but a greater desire lurked in his heart.

She would bend to him first.

He let his finger trail down the line of her throat as he kept his gaze locked with hers, taking in every twitch and tremble that she tried so valiantly to hide. His touch smoothed across her shoulder, warm and chafing against her delicate flesh until, at last, he reached that clinging hem.

Almost thoughtfully, he traced that strained neckline, “Tell me, did your mistress press you into her dress to hide, or have you been trying to pass yourself off as a gentle lady for your voyage? Graces and airs do open many doors.”

Elowyn stilled as his words took home, “I’ve no idea of what you speak.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Henry hummed knowingly, “A good liar you are not, Ms. O’Dara. Which makes me inclined to think you were pressed into this gown. However, like recognizes like and I think I’ve merely unsettled you.”

“The devil would be unsettled by you.” She murmured; heat resonated through her bosom as his fingers hovered over her swells, but he didn’t touch... just teased.

He grinned roguishly, amused by her scorn, “Either way... it does beg the question, how are you going to keep yourself from ruin? Even if you leave my presence – and that of my crew’s untouched – you’re still caught in something of a predicament, lass.”

Confusion furrowed her brow at his words and only deepened as he stepped away from her to lean against the ornate desk behind him. Smug and insufferable it galled her to ask after his meaning, “The only predicament I’ll have is giving the navy a name for the swine that dared board this ship.”

Henry barked a sharp laugh before giving a mocking bow, “Why Captain Henry Cavill at your service, milady? But do you honestly think that if I were to return you to the stores below that assumptions wouldn’t be made?”

Elowyn’s lips pursed, a silent refusal to entertain his inquiry. It only delighted him.

“You’ve been gone too long, lass. They know why Ole Thatch took you. Probably already assume that you’re dead. And let’s say you were pressed into this gown by your mistress... Loyal though you were, what use does she have for a spoiled maid? Best to send you on your way. And if you are a gentlewoman, word of your ruin will reach all and sundry before the ship is even done being berthed. No hoity-toity wealthy gentleman will look at you twice. All your prospects gone.”

Her cheeks were scarlet with humiliation, and she gritted her teeth as she scolded him, “Does this please you? These cruel games? I demand to be taken back to the stores.”

His eyes twinkled mirthfully, “Oh that’s it, Luv. Not bad for a gentlewoman, but you should tremble a little more to sell it.”

She barely bit back a snarl, even as her body moved without permission. To the surprise of both Henry and Elowyn, her slim hand snatched the pistol tucked into his belt and had it pressed under his chin before either could blink.

“Get. Off. This. Ship.” She sniped, hand minutely trembling as she stared straight into his now unimpressed eyes.

Outside the sounds of battle and the thumping of steps had dwindled to a steady few. His crew had overwhelmed the other and were taking what ever they could find back to the Kalliope. His time aboard was limited anyway... but still, it wouldn’t do to have this slip of a girl think she gained the upper hand. No longer was he willing to see her submit, but he would see her pride broken.

It was time he acted like a pirate.

“I intend to.” He murmured.

It wasn’t what she had expected him to say, and her moment of bafflement worked to his advantage as he ducked down and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed in much the same way she had in entering the room.

He heard the soft click of his gun and grinned when she comprehended that there was no bullet to be shot. He had used his powder on boarding, his pistol now a pretty decoration for his ruthless image. Her screams became even more enraged.

He chuckled and ignored her pounding fists to his back as he stepped out to the deck, “Brooks!”

His steadfast first mate appeared with nary a word and a raised brow. Yet, Henry knew he wouldn’t ask the question dancing on his tongue, “Ms. O’Dara will be joining us. See to it that the rudder of this ship is disengaged and gather the men back aboard Kal. I want to be sailing with the wind within the hour.”

“Aye, Captain.”

No further words were spoken nor needed between the two though that hardly stopped the squalling of the harridan thrashing his back. Grunting in frustration, he crossed the boarding ramp in two steps as his palm placed a resound slap onto Elowyn’s wriggling rump. A silent warning to be still which she did not heed.

“Put me down!”

It must have been the hundredth time she had shrieked this, but as Henry crossed the threshold of his cabin he decided to finally obey, “Very well.”

Grim amusement touched his lips as he tossed her onto his bed, her skirts flew wild, and he caught a tempting glimpse of the thin cotton of her bloomers. Those would not last long, like the whores of Nassau she would learn to stay bare beneath those skirts.

Ever defiant, Elowyn flew up from her supine position and slid from the bed before he could blink. Her speed was impressive, but she was not fast enough to beat the closing of the door as the lock clicked into place. Smirking, Henry seized the bottle of whiskey from the corner of his desk as he fell languidly into his chair to watch the despairing storm that descended upon his captive.

Elowyn yanked heartily on the handle, a torrent of panic and anger spurning her heart. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she was furious to find a sob pulling at her throat as the sands counting down her freedom quickly dwindled. She could not be trapped here. It simply was not to be born.

All the while, Elowyn could feel his gaze burn into her back. Not for the first time her stomach clenched under the weight of his attention. She detested the stirrings of lust his visage had enticed; his quiet perusal of her body had done much to set a simmering awareness along her skin that could only be calmed by the touch of another.

She slammed her palm against the hardwood of the door as her head became bowed with defeat.

“I am no one’s whore.” Her voice hoarse from her screams broke the expectant silence.

For a moment, the captain wondered if she could read minds. However, the longer he was in her presence the more he thought she was an innocent maid... if only her protest had not been so despondent. Tired. Bitter. As if this was a situation not uncommon.

“Aren’t you?” The words were spoken with seemingly little thought as Henry took a light swig from his bottle. A pleasantly harsh warmth burned over his tongue and down his throat as the dark liquid sought out his blood.

A low snarl emanated from her, and Henry watched curiously as she whirled to face him. His breath was stolen by the fury in her watery gaze. Her lips had curled back into a sneer, and she stood defiant. Wrathful, proud, and stunning. She was Circe reborn.

The entertained glint that shined in the face of her rage, merely cemented her ire as she strode across the room with the full command of a Goddess. She let the dress fall from her shoulders to twist and drown around her torso before falling lost to the floor. She trod on it and over it with little care.

Henry devoured the view of her corset and bloomers. Her curves were more pronounced with the clinging material of her undergarments and yet not enough. He’d rather see her bare.

Elowyn pointedly ignored the hunger of his countenance and snatched the whiskey from his hand. Her throat bobbed deliciously as she downed one mouthful and then two before throwing the bottle at the very door she longed to escape through.

A sharp thunk and the glittering clatter of shattered glass echoed through the cabin. Henry arched a brow in mild disappointment, “That was a very expensive bottle.”

“That I’m sure you stole.” Elowyn countered as she moved to straddle his lap. Her gaze was taunting as her fingers laced into the collar of his shirt, “Is this what you wanted, Captain?

He hummed, amused by her show of bravado, and respected her attempt at taking control, but he could see the quivering girl just below the surface. He delved his hands beneath the hem of her corset, gliding calloused fingers around the satin flesh of her waist. Goosebumps raised like waves in a storm at his touch.

A sharp gasp left Elowyn’s throat as one hand slid down beneath her bloomers to grasp the firm muscle of her bottom and squeeze. It was like lightning had been released across her hide. Visceral mordant liquid pooled in her loins, and she tried not to squirm. She didn’t want him to see how affected she truly was, even as evidence blossomed across the flimsy material guarding her.

Yet, as she held his dark stare, she swore that the staccato beating of her heart had given her away. A cool thrill shivered across her skin, only to be chased by a flaming warmth that she could not control. Beneath the rough cotton of her corset, her nipples puckered and pebbled, and she felt a shameful heat spread over her breasts to her collar and up her neck.

He hadn’t even kissed her.

He leant forward, teasingly drawing his lips along the shell of her ear. Henry grinned at the small shivering whimper that spilled from her lips at such an act. He had to wonder if she was worried that he would do to her what she had done to Thatch. Tauntingly, his tongue shot out and suckled her delicate lobe into his mouth as her knuckles whitened to match his collar.

She mewled prettily and arched into his hold, unable to voice the word stop. He wouldn’t have, even if she begged.

He lathed attention to her sensitive appendage for another few seconds before gently nipping the tender flesh, “I think this what you wanted, lass.”

She swallowed tightly and tried to bring forth the dispassionate woman that had brought her to his lap, “No.”

“No?” Henry almost sang, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. He nuzzled the plush swell of her cheek, breathing a kiss to the corner of her mouth as his fingers made quick work of the laces of her corset. A faint copper taste dazzled his tongue – had she enjoyed the taste of Thatcher’s blood?

Her breath hitched as she felt the boned fabric slide from her bosom. It took every ounce of strength not to fold her arms in and hide. She had tried to out bluff the monster but had goaded him into action instead. Brute violence would not remove her from this situation. She knew this instinctively, and as his bristled cheek chafed against the silk of her neck and chest, Elowyn became uncertain if she wanted to be removed.

Gossamer licks of pleasure pulsated from his rough skimming, and his hot breath ignited a current of desire that made her stomach clench with need. She felt suddenly empty and as his supple lips latched onto her pointed teet, she keened. Unthinkingly, she rocked into his pelvis in a feeble attempt to fill the throbbing void between her legs. Her cunt dripped and twitched needily as he suckled.

Elowyn sputtered and gasped at his forceful pulls, pressing down harder into his lap and ultimately onto his erection. She wasn’t sure when, but her fingers had delved around the bandanna holding back his wild mane as she tried not to fall into his ardent mouth, but she was helpless against his assault. He would devour her.

“Please.” She breathed.

Henry smiled and lightly bit down on her tortured tit, admiring the dark hue her sensitive flesh had garnered from his attentions, before moving his attention to her other breast, “Please, what?”

She arched as he began his attack anew. Her hips coming alive as she undulated frenetically against him. A pressure had started to build, a delicious force stood just out of reach and she just... just needed.

Henry’s strong hands dug into her hips stilling her movements. He knew that she was on the cusp of climax. He could smell the heady scent of her arousal, but such satisfaction would not be had until she took his cock.

Elowyn wailed in frustration, “Please!!”

“Please, what?” He iterated again. His fingers latched onto the seam of her bloomers. One fierce tug would be all he needed to tear her undergarment in two.

Her pride screamed at her to remain silent, but the wanton in her demanded she cave. Elowyn bit her lip as she tried to stave off another plea. Instead, she sought out the lace of his breeches and swiftly freed him of his leather confines.

Henry allowed her this and watched with a jovial grimace as she took in his hidden pistol. Her eyes widen at his size, her thighs clenching over his at the thought of taking him. He would not fit, but he would certainly fill her. She dragged a curious nail over his weeping head, jolting as his manhood twitched and bobbed under her innocent exploration.

He hissed, “Either suck me off, lass, or finish your request. If I must choose what comes next, you will find little pleasure in my actions.”

Her gaze flew up to his, noting the seriousness she found staring back at her. She swallowed tightly, “T-take me.”

A cruel grin twitched at his lips, “Take you where?”

She bristled at his mocking, “Copulate with me, like the pig you are.”

SMACK!

She gasped at the pain that flared through her hind-side and barely refrained from moaning as the reverberation echoed with her desire.

Henry tutted, “Name-calling when you’re begging? Not very gracious. Especially as you were the one to come to me, Luv.”

“Bastard!” She spat and choked on another moan as he assaulted her rear once more.

He grinned, “Enjoy that do you?”

She cursed him again and he laughed, “Should I take the cat and nine tails to you? What a saucy minx you’re turning out to be.”

“I loathe you.” Elowyn murmured through gritted teeth, “What do you want from me?”

He smiled bitingly at her, “Ask nicely and remember my title.”

She growled and tore from his hold as her pride won out for the moment. He watched her with the gaze of a predator as she discarded the last of her garments. She flung herself onto his bed and splayed her legs wide. She would not capitulate to him.

At least not verbally.

Henry’s mouth watered greedily as her nimble little fingers delved and played with her soaked mound. She was playing a very dangerous game. She stroked her sweet little nub with feverish intensity, allowing her moans to fill the cabin like a sonorous symphony. She put on a lovely lurid show and he couldn’t pull his gaze away as she ran a finger along the edge of her cunt, teasing him with a view of her seeping hole. It took little time for her to find that pleasure peak again and even less for him to lose his patience.

In less than three steps he was between her legs, knocking her hands away from her lush garden.

In two breaths, he was poised at her entrance.

In one kiss, he speared her with the intensity of a hunter claiming his prey.

He swallowed her raucous cry and reveled in the silent tear the swam down her cheek as he brutal entrance. Unbridled heat scored up his manhood as her wet cavern suckled him reluctantly to her womb. He had warned her what would happen if he were to choose.

Groaning, he could not still for long and raised his knee for leverage as he began a brutal pace toward release. Despite his harsh embrace, it was not long before her hips met his, seeking salvation from his unrelenting torrent.

Her muscles strained from being split, but the sharp ache was diminished by the relief of being so completely stuffed. Her pride wailed in horror at being proven the whore, but Elowyn cared little. Pleasure scalded and overwhelmed her like a bubbling hot spring.

Henry was everywhere.

Grasping, biting, prodding, and shoving.

He pulled sounds from her throat she had never heard before... but she was no better. Willing, she spread her thighs wider for him, welcoming his passionate tempest as he soundly cast her to the waves of ecstasy.

She cried out fervently as she drowned, and her body clung to him as if it were a buoy. Her walls became a vice, now trapping him to her as she fell victim to her carnal desires, “Captain!”

Henry watched her erupt through half-hooded eyes, captivated by the euphoria that descended upon her. He groaned as her walls clenched even tighter around him, demanding his seed.

He thrust once.

Twice.

Thrice more before he gave in to her delicious demand and came with a roar, filling her to brim as he enjoyed the way his cock spasmed in time with her tremors. Lazily, he pressed a kiss to her temple as she quivered against him.

Elowyn peered up at him with wide eyes, shame seeping into her mien as the weight of her actions crashed down onto her. She tried to cover herself, but Henry refused to let her move. He trapped her wrists above her head as he trapped her stare with his, “You have a choice now, lass. Be a good girl and warm this bed or walk out of this cabin and warm my crew’s. Either way, you’ll be a whore, but whose... well that remains up to you.”

Tears welled as he pulled out of her with a wet plop. Only then could she see the image she painted. Ruined and laid bare before the man who had stolen her as he fixed his trousers and shirt. She hated how little she had resisted him, how much she still wanted him. She had no recourse. He had extracted his pound of flesh as she drowned in her desires.

She would be his whore.

It was then she knew that Captain Henry Cavill wasn’t merely a pirate, he was the devil too.

#Pirate!Henry #AuHenry #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #fanfic #fanfiction #dark theme #Drowned Desires

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varianfinn · 3 years

Text

✨Mermaid aesthetic✨

🐠 Salt water scented candles

🐠 Wavy hair

🐠 Dark blue glittery nail polish

🐠 Pearls/abalone/shells/ sea glass/driftwood

🐠 Golden hand mirrors and wood combs

🐠 Gold jewelry [think buried treasure vibes]

🐠 Ear cuffs [What can I say, they’re cool]

🐠 Sea salt flavored ice cream [try it! Yum!]

🐠 Dolphin/shark symbolism

🐠 Sushi [I’m guessing mermaids don’t have Chipotle at the bottom of the sea]

🐠 Singing. Especially a cappella

🐠 La Jolla caves. Google them, they are beautiful. Or come visit us!

🐠 Skin care routine

🐠 High maintenance vibes[I have a lot to say about this so check down below for my notes lol]

🐠 🐟 🐠 🐟🐠🐟🐠🐟🐠🐟🐠🐟🐠🐟🐠

Notes:

So about the whole “high maintenance” thing, I kind of like the idea of more of an succubus/incubus vibe. It overlaps with the whole “siren part”. Yes, I know technically they are different but bear with me. I don’t want people to assume high maintenance is a bad thing. I kind of like the idea of these gorgeous people doing all sorts of things to better their appearance. Something about a mermaid with a face mask on just fits the aesthetic. even just a tad of narcissism and that mean girl vibe fits. If you’re trying to mirror the aesthetic then maybe don’t be a mean girl, but focus on self-care 👍 Also, I tried to keep this gender neutral. It’s titled “mermaid aesthetic” just so it’s easy to identify for those who are looking for it.

And as always, please help me add more! I only found one other “aesthetic lists“ like this and I really love them. Please add your ideas!

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maaaddiexo · 3 years

Text

Birthday Encounters | Legolas Greenleaf

Mainlist | Serieslist

Pairing: Legolas Greenleaf x fem!reader

“Aragorn!”

Strong arms wrapped around her waist as her friend of countless years lifted her and spun her in circles.

“Y/N! It has been far too long.” The King placed Y/N back on her feet in his home.

Y/N nodded. “I agree. Thank you for the invitation.”

Aragorn gave Y/N a kind smile and gestured for them to walk. “Of course. How have you been?”

Y/N smiled. “Good. I have been helping the Ents repair their land since Saruman’s destruction of Fangorn Forest. Did you get my wedding present? I heard Arwen enjoyed jewelry-making in her spare time.”

Aragorn smiled. “Yes, she loves it.” He was upset Y/N could not make their wedding and considered postponing it just so that she could attend. But being so ill, they had no idea when she would be well enough to attend. “What else have you been doing?”

Y/N shook her head. “Traveling. Relaxing. You know that fight took more out of me than I ever got back.”

Aragorn nodded. “Somehow, I always forget you fought in the Battle of the Five Armies all those years ago. Perhaps because you never speak of it.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “Well, there’s nothing good to speak of. Perhaps if there was, I would talk more of it.”

Aragorn frowned. “Sorry. I did not mean to upset you.”

Y/N looked over the balcony they had stopped at, seeing Arwen talking to two elves she did not recognize. Not that she knew many to begin with. “It’s alright.”

“Come, Lady Y/N. I am sure you’ve missed Arwen.”

As they descended the stairs, Y/N said, “I’m not a Lady. You know that.”

“You are in my eyes. But don’t let Arwen hear that.”

Y/N laughed as they reached the bottom of the stairs, catching the attention of Aragorn’s wife, Arwen.

“Y/N!” The elf exclaimed happily, reaching forward to grab her arms. The woman had become used to the customs of men and women while married to Aragorn and moved to hug Y/N, a custom most elves did not engage in. As Arwen had put it years ago, elves did not like to touch people they were not close to.

“Arwen! I have missed you, my friend.”

Arwen, who looked like she had not aged a day, smiled in agreement. “The last time I saw you-”

“I looked horrible,” Y/N laughed. “Hopefully, I look much better now.”

Arwen smiled. “Much better.”

“Arwen? Are you not going to introduce us to your friend?” The two elves waited expectantly behind the dark-haired elf. Both were fair-skinned with braided silver hair. The one who spoken was a young girl, though it was hard to tell just how old she was.

Arwen smiled. “This is Y/N. She and Aragorn met when Sauron tried to regain power. She has been a friend ever since.”

The two elves gave short bows. “And this is Selina and Legolas. Sindar elves.”

Mirkwood elves, Y/N realized. And the name Legolas rang a bell. “You are the son of Thranduil.”

Legolas nodded but displayed a slightly sour face. “And Seline is my guard. She goes wherever I go and has become quite a close companion to Arwen and Aragorn.”

Y/N smiled at Seline, who did not talk much. Both were ethereal in their elven beauty, practically glowing. Y/N felt ugly in their presence – but that was what most non-elves felt. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“I assume Aragorn’s birthday brings you here as well?”

Y/N nodded. “Considering I missed their wedding, it was the least I could do.”

Aragorn sighed. “For the last time, we do not blame you. You made great sacrifices on the Lonely Mountain. It is not your fault you get sick often.”

Y/N looked away in shame.

“Oh, leave her be, Aragorn. You know how stubborn she can be. More stubborn than that red-bearded friend of yours, Gimli.”

“Seline!” A small girl appeared from the west hall, reaching the she-elf’s waist. “You’re back!”

The elf smiled and bent down, whispering something in the little girl’s ear before being towed down the hall to an unknown location. The little girl barely dodged the incoming servant, dressed in purple and gold thread.

“My Lord and Lady, the advisors need to speak with you. Urgently.”

Aragorn sighed and reached for his love. “We will be right there. Y/N? Do you mind showing Legolas around? He has not visited since the attack.”

Y/N chanced a glance at the elven prince before nodding. “Of course. Does that include the wine cellar?”

Aragorn playfully flicked his friend’s nose. “You stay out of there. You drink like a dwarf.”

“I take that as a compliment!” Y/N yelled as the duo followed after the servant. Once they were out of sight and earshot, she turned to Legolas. “Shall we start at the wine cellar?”

•••

“And that’s it,” Y/N said, stopping where they had started. She hid her pain well, casually leaning against a stone pillar to relieve some of the pressure in her lungs.

“They have expanded since I was last here,” Legolas mused, taking in the almost-elvish architecture. Then again, Aragorn had spent a lot of his live in Rivendell. Legolas looked back at Y/N, who seemed to have trouble breathing. Her chest expanded roughly, stuttering as her eyes watered. “Are you alright, My Lady?”

Y/N forced a laugh. “Why does everyone call me that? I’m not a Lady.”

“You look like one.” Legolas looked an elf caught off guard, which was a rare thing to behold. His fair cheeks flushed slightly and he looked away momentarily before speaking again, this time much faster. “You seem to have trouble breathing.”

Y/N waved him off. “It’s nothing, really. It’ll pass soon enough.”

“What is ‘it’?”

Y/N sighed. “A long time ago, I used to live in Lake-town. I lived there when Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins woke the dragon, Smaug, and he burned my home. The smoke damaged my lungs. I have struggled to breathe since but exercise makes it worse. I don’t expect an elf like you to understand. I know your kind never tires.”

Legolas squinted at Y/N. Her ears were round and her skin was not flawless but…there was something about her. The way she carried herself. “You have elven blood in you.”

Y/N was surprised. Most people didn’t notice the drop of elf in her. “Yes. One of ancestors was elvish. Though, I inherited nothing but prolonged aging and the ability to jump.”

Legolas felt himself smile at the news. There were few of his kin left in Middle-Earth. And halfling or not, she counted.

“Do you know any elvish?”

Y/N shook her head, still trying to catch her breath and stay the pain deep in her lungs. “No. Aragorn tried to teach me but it just doesn’t sound-” Y/N couldn’t finish her sentence, interrupted by a coughing fit. She bent over the railing, coughing and trying to catch her breath. Something touched her back – Legolas, she realized. She waved him off. “Just give me a moment. This damned corset makes matters so much worse.”

“Corset?”

Y/N nodded and something was brought to her lips. Legolas’ waterjug. She drank eagerly until the rough burn in her throat was soothed. “Thank you. And, yes. My mother insisted I wear a corset because it is what women do these days.” Y/N harrumphed at that and Legolas laughed.

“Is your mother here?”

“No, she stayed with my father back home to work on our farm.”

“Then why not loosen it? Or lose it entirely?”

“You make it sound like disobeying a parent’s order is easy.”

“I know for a fact that it isn’t,” Legolas said firmly. “But doing what you desire is freeing. Even if it means just losing a corset.”

“Legolas! Y/N!” Aragorn and Arwen appeared at the end of the hallway before Y/N could say anything. “Dinner is in an hour.”

Y/N smiled and Arwen moved forward. “Let’s get you changed, my friend.”

Y/N let herself be dragged off to her friend’s chambers where Arwen searched through the wardrobe, stopping on a pale blue dress with an attached cape and gold ringlets at the shoulders.

“Perfect.”

Arwen braided Y/N’s hair in a signature elvish braid, pulling it back to reveal her perfectly round ears. “I sense Aragorn and I interrupted something between you and Legolas back in the main entryway.”

Y/N shook her head softly. “He just said something, is all.”

“You’ve got the furrow in your brow you always get when you think too hard. Did his words bother you? He is from Mirkwood. They don’t have the best manners.”

“No, not at all,” Y/N assured as they moved to the door. It was almost time for the birthday feast to begin. “He just said something…eye-opening.”

“An elf? Saying something wise? How odd.”

Y/N laughed as they approached the garden. Legolas, Seline, Aragorn, and red-bearded dwarf were waiting for them. The human and two elves had changed, and Aragorn now wore his signature crown. He looked like a king. Arwen left Y/N’s side to join her husband’s.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just your wife finally grasping human humour. She’s become quite good at it.”

Aragorn rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me. Y/N, this is Gimli. I’ve told you about him.”

Y/N curtsied. “I have heard plenty about you. Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Gimli touched his heart like an elf would. “The pleasure is all mine, Milady.”

“Why do people keep saying that?”

Gimli stuttered. He was expecting a thank you, not an argument. “W-well…you look like a princess.”

Y/N glanced at Legolas from the corner of her eye in amusement. He was already staring at her. “People keep saying that too.”

Aragorn chuckled and the two humans shared a look. The other four looked between the two humans as their eyebrows furrowed and raised and, finally, Y/N stuck out her tongue childishly.

“Something is happening that I do not understand,” Gimli finally said.

Legolas, who did not take his eyes off the two, said, “Me neither.”

“Shall we go in?” Aragorn said. “The little ones are already inside.”

“You mean the Hobbits you always talk about in your letters? Y/N asked eagerly.

Aragorn chuckled. “Yes. I will introduce you.”

“May I escort you to our table’ Milady?”

Y/N smiled at Gimli and nodded, slipping her hand around his upper bicep. Legolas and Seline followed behind them. The vines parted to reveal a garden from a fairytale. People were chatting loudly and small children ran around their parents’ feet. Ahead, four small men were already seated at the head table and turned to see them arrive.

“Legolas! Gimli!”

Y/N moved away so that the six could rejoice, looking for her place at the table. Her name was written in beautiful Elven cursive and knew Arwen had written it. Her name was between Legolas’ and Aragorn’s and she felt comfort in that. Though she wasn’t sure why Legolas’ proximity had an effect on her. Y/N moved to walk around the garden, examining all the details that had been considered for Aragorn’s ninetieth birthday.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Y/N turned to see Legolas had approached her. She was standing by the wall of well-wishes, where guests wrote notes for the birthday boy.

“Yes. Arwen did a wonderful job of combining both human and Elvish customs. I’m sure Aragorn will be quite overjoyed when they finally come in.”

“May I escort you back to our table?”

Y/N stared at Legolas’ outreached arm, waiting for her take it as she took Gimli’s. “I was under the impression that Elves did not touch people outside their loved ones?”

“You are correct,” Legolas smiled humbly. “But humans do. Besides, I spent plenty of time with the Hobbits, Gimli, and Aragorn while fighting Sauron. I do not stick as strictly to Elven customs as I once did.”

Y/N smiled. “In that case,” she wrapped her arm around Legolas’ bicep. “I would love to be escorted. Perhaps…we could dance later too?”

“Mirkwood elves don’t really dance,” Legolas admitted. “But a few years back Gimli introduced me to drinking games. I’m quite good at those.”

Y/N laughed. “I’ll take your word for it and pass on that offer. I’ve heard elves cheat at them. But we could sit and talk.” They were at the table now. “Arwen and Aragorn have told me all about Rivendell but I know very little of Mirkwood.”

Legolas bowed. “You have an accord.”

The night was filled with laughter, spilt ale, and dancing. Pippin and Merry had been up on a random table for the past thirty minutes, singing as their mugs of ale were continuously filled.

Nyx’s stomach hurt from laughing so long and hard and was grateful her dress didn’t have a corset. Her lungs began to ache and she reached for a goblet of water in hopes of staying the oncoming coughing fit.

“You should try marshmallow root,” said Legolas suddenly. He and Y/N were the only two at the table, retelling stories of their past and laughing at their friends. “It will not heal your lungs, but it will soothe your throat.”

“Does nothing get past your eyes?”

“Well,” Legolas smiled. “Elves do have excellent eyesight.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I see you’re catching on to human humour as well. Do you know any jokes of ours?”

Legolas smiled. “Gimli once told me one. Are you ready? Okay. What hangs at a man’s thigh and wants to poke the hole it’s poked before? And I’ll give you a hint. It is not what you think it is.”

Y/N squinted. “It’s a dwarf joke? The answer must be inappropriate somehow.”

“I can assure you it is not.”

“What is it then?”

“A key.”

Y/N laughed, though she found it be less funny and more of a riddle. She did not want to hurt Legolas’ feelings.

“Now tell me something about your culture. Humans never cease to amaze me.”

“What do you want to know?”

“You commented on how elves treat loved ones. I know Aragorn is human but he was raised in Rivendell. What are your customs?”

“My father always kisses my mother on the cheek. And whenever either of them leaves the house, they tell the other they love them. And my mother often falls asleep on my father in sitting room when he reads.”

“Was he boring?”

“What?”

“She fell asleep on him when he read. Was he boring?”

Y/N laughed. “No, not at all. He was very good at telling stories, actually. And my mother always says that falling asleep on his shoulder is when she gets the best sleep. Because she’s close to him.”

“How is that comfortable? How does that even work?” Legolas laughed. Y/N could see he was trying to imagine it in his head.

“Like this.” Carefully, so as not to cross too many of Legolas’ boundaries, she moved closer to Legolas and slouched in her seat, gently resting her head on his shoulder. “And my father would read chapter after chapter. Tell story after story. And my mother would fall asleep on his shoulder and I would fall asleep in front of the fireplace.”

Legolas smiled, watching his friends dance together as a beautiful girl rested on his shoulder. “I understand now. This is nice.”

“So nice I may not move,” Y/N joked.

Legolas touched Y/N’s hand beneath the round table. “So don’t.”

#romance #love #legolas #legolas imagine #legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf imagine #lotr #lotr imagine #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagine #orlando bloom #orlando #bloom #orlando bloom imagine

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purple-goo-writes · 3 years

Text

SnapShots: MariFlash One Shots

Snap 3: Barry Allen: Policeman by Eva Simmons

Hey, Mr. Policeman I don't want no trouble I just wanna drop my jiggelin' down to the floor Hey, Mr. Policeman Why you wanna holla at me?

I just wanna drop my jiggelin' down to the floor No arrest badman mind ya bizz No arrest badman mind ya bizz No arresta baddaman mind ya business Down to the floor (bring 'em down)

Barry felt like swearing as Medusa got away yet again! This was starting to piss the Scarlet Speedster off like nothing before! And what’s worse!

It didn’t help that she was very distracting in another way...

Barry could have sworn he had her… like he had already captured her and yet he was hit with a sinking feeling of deja-vu as he goes to grab her only for Medusa to simply twirl out of his reach again and somehow manage to paralyze him (Again!) with that damn Venom Shot of hers! The hooded snake themed rogue driving him up the wall with how she constantly got the upper hand in their battles. It was like everytime he got the upper hand she was one step ahead of Barry, even when he was pretty sure he had surprised her…

Wait…

It was like she always knew what he would do next and each time it was after Medusa touched the snake bracelet wrapped around her right wrist behind the stinger. She usually did that before hitting him with the large stinger (shaped like a snake fang) protruding from the wrist of her gauntlet. He wondered why only her right hand wore a gauntlet… What if it was because she needed to have her left hand free in order to touch the bracelet behind the stinger?

The Flash just may have a way to capture this rogue before she can rob another jewelry store. Though, he wondered what she was looking for given she hasn’t stolen anything, just broke in. Either way, next time he will be better prepared for him.

Luck seemed to be on his side, as Barry was once again called into another jewelry store break end. Seriously how many jewelry stores were there in Central City? The Flash was off like a shot as he raced to apprehend Medusa finally. This time the snake would not be getting away from him!

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” Flash quipped as he skidded into the Kay Jewelers on 15th Street, tsking as he saw the broken glass cases. “Seriously what are you so determined to find?” The snake turned to him, emerald lips pulling into a smirk showing off a slight hint of fang as her blue eyes glittered with mischief, “Oh the speedy mouse has come to play again?” Medusa purred whilst she slowly trailed a hand up the front of her skin tight body suit and armor, “Should I be flattered about all the attention you pay me, mousey?”

It annoyed Barry that he was so distracted by such a simple action, though he had to admit that Medusa was very attractive. He blamed the fact that apparently he was attracted to strong and confident women, even if they were villains. The suit didn’t help matters with how it hugged and left nothing to the imagination without revealing any skin outside the lower half of her face where her hood and mask didn’t cover. It was mainly emerald and black with the black being the armored pieces and the emerald being patterned like diamondback scales, gold was sprinkled throughout the suit accenting certain areas. Barry wasn’t even sure what color her hair was due to it constantly being covered by the snake hood.

“I wouldn’t be flattered. I’m going to bring you in this time, Medusa.” Barry snapped out before charging her, trading high speed blows with the villainess. He just needed to keep her from using the bracelet!

Unfortunately, Medusa was as dangerous as she was attractive. Case in point the number of times she has thrown him through a wall with surprising amounts of strength. Like just now as the snake managed to catch Barry by surprise long enough to grab his wrist and judo flip The Flash over her shoulder.

Shit! He managed to zip away just in time to dodge her Venom Shot.

Not this time!

They continued to trade blows, with Barry having to continue to dodge the painful sting of her gauntlet. Finally, he managed to grapple her to the ground, holding her hands above her head. And trying rather hard not to think about the rather compromised position they were in. Barry felt a blush bloom on his cheeks as Medusa looked up at him with amusement, clearly not bothered that she was just captured and would be going to jail soon.

“Now we just need to wait for the police to arrive,” Barry huffed whilst trying to ignore just what this would look like when the others arrived.

Medusa chuckled, before arching up pressing close to Flash grinning when the superhero stiffened, “Oh, do you have me where you want me, mousey?”

Flash felt the blush staining his cheeks getting darker as Medusa pressed closer, one of her legs moving to let him settle between her thighs causing him to squeak, “Miss! This is highly inappropriate.”

“Awww, but flirting with you is half the fun of the battle,” the snake purred, loving the way Flash’s face was now as red as his suit whilst she pressed closer. Leg hooking over his hip, letting Medusa grind up against Barry causing him to squeak again, his hold on her wrists slacking some from the shock, “Besides, you are such a cute little mouse to play with.” “Why do you keep-” His words were cut off by Medusa pulling a hand out of his hold and using it to pull the startled blond down into a heated kiss. Barry groaned into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut before stiffening in pain as his whole body went stiff as a board. “Oh, little mouse, never assume you caught a snake,” She purred, easily rolling them over so that Barry was laying on his back with Medusa straddling his paralyzed form. He mentally groaned as the villainess slowly stood before striding out of the jewelry store after blowing him a kiss, “Until next time, Flash~”

#mariflash #maribat #Barry/Mari #BarMari #I have no clue what happened okay

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onyxylophone · 3 years

Text

more content for @bakedbananners mcga/steven universe gem AU bc I guess speridot and citrine just live in my head rent free at this point

"Fierrokinesis"

"...What are you making?"

Citrine approached Speridot's work-table, hanging back a couple feet as he craned his neck to get a better view.

The pink-and-green gem hummed, glancing quickly at him over her shoulder. She motioned him closer with a flick of her head. Citrine took a few steps forward.

Speridot uncoiled a length of copper-colored jewelry wire. She summoned her dagger, cutting off tiny pieces of wire with the blade like she was chopping vegetables on a cutting board. Citrine had a feeling that wasn't the traditional method.

"It's supposed to be a necklace." Speridot informed him. She repeated the chopping again with two more wires- one gold, one silver. Then she picked up each individual tiny piece of wire and smoothed out both rough ends with a miniature file. Her left leg bounced absently. Metallic dust settled in her lap and on her fingertips.

Speridot grabbed a pair of round nose pliers off the wooden surface of her desk. She curled each wire into a loop, then slipped every loop onto the last, one after the other, wiggling both ends in place with a set of flatter pliers to make sure the bond was sealed.

Slowly, the collection of metal rings turned into a length of handmade chain. It was beautiful to look at- the different colored wires creating a pattern that flowed delicately; copper, alternating into silver, then into gold.

Citrine sat down in the spot next to her, "Wire? I always assumed that making jewelry was like...engagement rings and diamonds and stuff like that."

"It is. Sometimes. That's what my fa- Mr. Fierro used to do. I always liked working with metal better. Not sure why, though," She looked vaguely nauseous suddenly; green, well, greener, "I guess I just don't like working with...gems."

Citrine had a feeling her words had a double meaning. "I thought handmade jewelry was for pretty rich ladies, or something."

"I could make something for you, if you wanted."

"I'm not exactly a pretty rich lady."

"Well, not in that jacket."

Speridot held the multicolored length of chain up to her neck, roughly measuring the size. Satisfied, she added a clasp onto the end. Her hands worked fast, delicately handling the tiny pieces. She swiped her fingers across her cheek. It left behind a streak of gold dust that stood out against her skin.

"Are you going to put anything on it?"

Speridot paused, thinking for a second, "I've always been good at wire wrapping. I could use this for your gem. The rest of us could carry you around. Like a chihuahua."

Citrine made a face, covering said gem with his arms, "Uh...no thanks."

Speridot flashed a genuine grin that made Citrine's stomach do somersaults. "I'm just fucking with you, dude."

She stood up abruptly, holding up her latest piece. Her hands circled Citrine's neck, which would normally be a bad thing, but here it was kind of...nice? She inspected the way her chain looked on him. Her face scrunched with concentration. The corner of her mouth twitched. Citrine didn't think he could handle meeting her eyes, so he focused instead on the metallic sheen still highlighting one cheekbone.

"...Needs more work." Speridot announced after a few moments of silence. She set the piece back down on the table, frowning heavily.

"It looks fine to me."

Her frown briefly flipped upwards into a tiny smile. It was gone by the time she looked back over at him, but the warmth in her eyes was still there. "Here. Let me show you something."

She reached over, circling one of his fingers between two of hers. Citrine blinked. He listened to her mumble to herself: Hm...seems like uh…? Yeah, maybe…

Speridot pulled back. She slid the same fingers over a metal dowel with various numbers etched into the side. Whatever answer it gave seemed to satisfy her. She sat back down onto her stool, holding the dowel with her knees as she wrapped three separate lengths of golden wire around it. Her mouth twitched again as she threaded the three wires together, pulling them taut, forming the base.

She started nimbly twisting the excess wire together. It seemed strangely easy, like the metal itself was melting into her touch. She wasn't even using pliers. Her voice broke the silence while her hands worked.

"I guess I like working with metal so much because it can be anything, you know? It doesn't have a set purpose, doesn't have to be the same thing as something else, it doesn't even have to be pretty. It can just...exist," Speridot started forming the twisted wire into a vague spiraling shape at the top of the ring base, "Fancy expensive jewelry has to be beautiful, engagement rings have to be perfect, gems have to be useful! But this-" an intricate shape started forming, "-This doesn't have to be anything at all."

She finished her spiral, and moved to wrapping the final stretch of wires in tight loops around the base. When she reached the end, she pinched the rough edges closed with her fingertips. Citrine was pretty sure you were supposed to use pliers for that, too.

Speridot hummed, pulling and pinching at the twisted wires for a few minutes. The metal happily listened, warm and static-y feeling, bending easily with her fingertips.

Citrine wasn't sure what exactly she was creating until she slid it off the dowel, holding the finished ring up to the light. It was a rose; the twisting in the wire formed abstract petals into a faux state of bloom. Speridot motioned towards her finished piece with dramatic flair, "Ta-dah!"

She stood up again, leaning in close to slide the finished ring over the finger she'd measured earlier. Citrine felt his face heating up. A fluttering sensation went through his gem.

"Perfect fit," Speridot said, smirking down at him, "Just try not to lose this one, okay?"

#disclaimer PLEASE do not cut metal wire like that!! very dangerous if you are not a gem!#anyway the process is probably not perfectly accurate but it is how i was taught lol #alex fierro #magnus chase #fierrochase #mcga #pjato #steven universe #my writing #my post #okay to rb

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

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Surprising Finds

Summary- 1.7k. Ransom Drysdale x You. Bucky Barnes x You. Ransom said you could do whatever you want. So you decided you wanted to go antiquing much to his dismay. Warnings- probably a word or two. But honestly its fluff. Divider made by @firefly-graphics

A/N- I found out @sagechanoafterdark‘s birthday is coming up. As its a surprise, I didn't ask but I did take some inspiration from her personal series Held For Ransom and All Good Things. Both fantastic series and should be checked out. I hope you have a wonderful day Sage and thank you for reading all my rambles in your DM’s.

Ransom perched his sunglasses on the end of his nose as he peered over the frames to the quaint storefront you had him stop at. There was a couple tables displaying some nice dishes and other kitchen appliances, above them in the awning were hanging baskets of morning glories lifting to the morning sunlight and giving the whole store a welcoming feeling. “Here? This is where you wanted to stop Y/N? It looks abandoned.”

You were digging in your purse and pulling out a few bills to stuff in your pocket before pushing your bag to the floorboard and under the passenger side car seat. “It does not look abandoned. There is an open sign right in the door.”

“Is that even a legit sign? It looks like something someone plastered it there to draw in unsuspecting tourists so they can trap them and torture them. There is a Saks just another hour away we will be passing. You can find whatever you want there.” He tried reasoning with you, about to turn the car back on when you reached over and slipped the keys from the ignition and smirked at him.

“Nice try Ransom, but today was about what I wanted to do.” You slipped out of the car, leaving him there huffing at you and pushing his sunglasses back up his nose and following you. He did agree this morning to those terms. Of course you might have coerced him with playful kisses on his chest while straddling him, giving him the look.

That look.

The cursed look you could pull off whenever you caught him off guard. Fuck it Drysdale, you should have known better.

“Well if I had known you were going to drag me to the middle of some bum fuck town in the middle of nowhere to look at other people's junk, I would have planned out a trip for us instead.” He complained in a slightly accusing tone as you shrugged while pushing open the door with some effort, blinking in the sudden dim lighting that accompanied antique stores typically.

“Stay in the car then Hugh, you can't ruin this for me.” Almost flippant sounding, not caring. Oh that tone could drive him nuts.

“Don't call me that.” he snapped.

“Then quit acting like I'm forcing you to come with me against your will.” You shot back with a smirk, knowing that you could so easily get under his skin. Peering around now that your eyes adjusted. So far no one had come from the counter to greet them, so you just wandered into the building. Ransom was not far behind, picking up random things and rolling it in his hands before setting them back down. You hummed happily while lifting box covers and pulling out old records, reading titles and sifting through a few piles of magazines and books littering the shelves. “See, it's not so bad.”

Ransom, who was currently glancing in a glass case with some fine gold jewelry and coins yanked his sunglasses off and perched them atop his head. “It's okay, but it's still full of junk.” He made a pointed glance at a gaudy relic of a mime painting leaning against a wall.

“Sure, you have to seek out the treasures in here.” You countered while sidling up towards him, loping your arm around his waist while looking in the case before moving towards the painting he had so adamantly pointed out. “What do you say, we could always gift this to Linda?” You teased and Ransom moved beyond the glass case to stand in front of it, laughing.

“Are you saying my mother would enjoy that?” Ransom quirked a brow as you made a move to stand a bit away, holding it out at arms length and making you giggle.

“Hell I know she would hate it, but how funny would it be to see her attempt to say thank you while we are offering to hang it on her wall?”

“She wouldn't even try. She would flat out say hell no.” Ransom shook his head and pulled out the painting behind it, grimacing at the next one. Some portrait of a man, looking stoic in the portrait, it actually reminded Ransom of his Harlen's portrait that he was sure Marta still had hanging in memory of his grandfather. “Besides, it's probably haunted or some shit.”

You were about to point out why it was an even better gift then to torture Linda with when a male’s voice interrupted them. You both turned at the same time to see someone come out the back room.

Coffee colored hair framed around a warm face, dog tags bouncing off his chest as he grunted with effort dropping off a heavy looking box behind the cash register. “I can assure you it is not haunted. Not that piece at least.” The man brushed the dust off his hands as he came around to greet them. “But I'm afraid I can't tell you the story behind it. I'm just helping today. The store owner happens to be at an estate sale. But anything you have an interest in, I can have her call you. My name is Bucky, if you need any other kind of help.” He smiled warmly, holding his hand out which you shook, then Ransom afterwards, introducing yourselves as well.

You had to admit he had caught you by surprise. Your breath hitched a bit and you felt Ransom stiffen next to you, having heard it as well. “We are just here to look around, not for anything in particular. But thanks for the offer.” You mention while Ransom wraps an arm over your shoulder, you could feel him posturing slightly, a puff to his chest, a rumble of a “We are fine, thanks.”

Bucky retreated back to his project after you two moved away further into the store, looking over old knick knacks and vases that you had an interest in. Ransom loosened up once you two were alone again.

“What was that about?” You asked while moving to a clothes rack, picking up an extravagant hat and perching it on your head.

“What was what about?” he asked, grabbing a scarf and draping it around your neck, pulling you closer. A signature smirk on perfect pink lips upturned slightly. “You look dashing by the way.”

You narrow your gaze as he drops his head to nip at your lips, pressing your hands to firm pecs under his shirt. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” you whispered while he continued to tease you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulled away.

“I heard that gasp of yours.” He pulled the scarf off while you did the same with the hat, moving into another section of the store. “You think he’s cute.”

You paw through some random box of items, picking through mugs and utensils. “So what if I did?”

Ransom curled the tip of his nose at your response and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, seeing a moment of self doubt that you knew he dealt with, although you two have brushed on the subject a few times, you knew it lingered. You roll your eyes to yourself with a half smile and turn back to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Sure hes cute, but does he drive me insane and fuck me so good I’m screaming his name? Or bring me my morning coffee in bed? Do I wear his favorite sweater around the house to tease him? That's a hell no, only you get that Ransom.”

“You are a menace.” Ransom shook his head, that doubt melting from his eyes and turning sharp again with your statement.

“Hell, calling the kettle black their Drysdale.” You grin while taking his hand and leading him to the next table. Ransom was about to follow when he pulled up short, picking up a decanter made from cut crystal.

“Okay this I want.” He let go of your hand, admiring the rest of the set. You folded your arms over your chest, smirking at him.

“See, complain the whole time and look who’s the first one to find something they just had to have.”

You stood at your kitchen counter mixing together some dried tea leaves to pack into a tea ball when you felt a pair of arms circle around your waist and a broad chest press against your back. “Welcome home Doll.” came the Brooklyn accent that made you smile, looking over your shoulder with a quick peck to his lips.

“It's good to be back. I got some really nice items so that once they are cleaned up they will look excellent displayed in the front there. Did you have any customers?” You turned back to your tea, dipping it in a cup and pouring the steaming water over it. Soon the calming aroma of lavender wafted over you two while Bucky and you retreated towards the living room. He settled first and you curled into his side.

His fingers smoothed along your thigh while he recounted the day to you. A few small sales, some of the vintage dresses that so many loved finding in good condition, a rather nice dresser you had hoped would find a good home and collectible teddy bears that you guessed would go quickly.

“... then a younger couple came in. They had a whole mess of stuff they took with them. That decanter set you had laying around went. And the woman found herself a “I’m The Boss” mug she insisted on much to his dismay.” Bucky chuckled softly recalling the expressions. “They were looking at the paintings in the corner. Assuming that mime one was haunted, it is kind of creepy.”

You giggled while sipping your tea. “It is, I hate that thing, but people are really into that shit. Good thing they didn't take that one behind it. That one actually does have a spirit attached to it.”

“The old man portrait?”

You nodded while tugging a blanket off the back of the couch and cuddling into it, wrapping the two of you up while reaching for the remote. “Oh yes, he's been with that thing for years. Harmless really, you can catch him when you smell cigar smoke. He just likes to hang out. I offered to move him on, but he insists he's happy right where he is.”

Bucky was quiet a moment and tugged you in closer. “I can understand that.”

#amber writes #sweater writes #ransom drysdale au #bucky barnes au #happy birthday #knives out au

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whump-me-all-night-long · 3 years

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Jeweler!Sapphire AU (not canon)

Welcome to 3k words of this amazing AU idea that may or may not become a multi-parter. No editing, we die like.. idk. Please let me know what y'all think!!

Tagging the usual group (let me know if you only want to be tagging in canon stuff): @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii @whumprincess @thatgaysnail @finaldreams1106 @reveriedeludesme @kemonoinuzuka @circlingravens @whumpasaurus101 @spicy-wendigo @femmewithadhd @wafflestakethecake @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @broadwaybabe18 @whumpinggoodtime @temporary-whump-sideblog @dumb-and-lesbian let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: talk of death (in a pretty disrespectful manner), talk of human trafficking, intimate whumper, hair pulling, noncon touching, some pretty noncon vibes near the end, uhhh Saph/Dustin is a real asshole, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Masterlist

---

The sound of a ringing phone woke Dustin. With a groan, he rolled over in bed, blankets tangled around his legs. Blindly groping along his nightstand, he found his phone and answered the call, from an unknown number, blue eyes squinting against the flash of the bright screen.

“Yeah?” he answered, stifling a yawn.

“Is this Mr. Moore?” a timid male voice said.

Rubbing a hand across his face, Dustin sat up, glancing at the clock with a groan. “Yes, this is he,” he responded, voice tight. “Now who the fuck is calling me at four a.m.?”

A throat was cleared on the other end of the line. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I’m Nicholas Jameston.” There was a pause, as if he expected Dustin to recognize the name. “I’m your uncle’s lawyer.”

Dustin blinked, brow furrowing in confusion. “My uncle? You mean.. Uncle Spence?”

A curt “Yes, sir.”

“Okayyyy,” he drew out. “Listen, I haven’t talked to him in years. Since I left for college at least. Probably before even high school. You see, my dad and him, they didn’t really get along-” He cut himself off. Why was he telling this man anything? “Anyways, there must be some confusion. I don’t know why he wants his lawyer contacting me all of a sudden.” Shit, he thought. Did I break or steal something last time I was at his place? Is this what this is about?

There was an awkward beat of silence before the lawyer cleared his throat again. “No, sir, there’s no mistake or confusion. You see, you’re Mr. Spencer’s closest remaining blood relative.”

Dustin was really not awake enough for this conversation. “Just say what you need to and be done with it.”

“Your uncle is dead,” the lawyer finally said. “And you’re his sole heir.”

Dustin pulled up in his car, a shiny BMW he’d bought using his dad’s life insurance money a few years ago. He squinted against the darkness of early morning, checking the address again. This place looked less like a family home and more like a fortress. A prison.

He wondered, for the millionth time since getting rudely awoken and told that a man he’d met only a handful of times was a) dead and b) giving him everything, what exactly he was doing here. His dad must be rolling over in his grave. Not that Dustin particularly cared about that.

He knew that the brothers had never gotten along, that his dad, the older brother, had apparently “abandoned” the family business because it was “amoral,” but Dustin had never really been privy to the details. He rolled his eyes just thinking about his dad and his need to be righteous and perfect all the time.

That apparently had gone out the window at some point, but the bastard was too proud to go back to his brother - their parents were already dead by that time - and instead decided to start his own company, selling.. who knew? Certainly not Dustin. No, the young twenty-six-year-old was perfectly content enjoying his bachelor playboy lifestyle, feeding off mommy and daddy’s blood money.

“Mr. Moore?” A man was standing on the doorstep, fidgeting nervously with a thick manila envelope.

Dustin took one look at him and barely withheld a sigh. This man, short, balding, oily, was a lawyer alright. He raised one lazy eyebrow. “Jameson, I presume?” he called back, making his way slowly up the path to the door.

“Uh, it’s Jameston, sir,” the man corrected quickly.

Dustin didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. It’s early and I have a busy day ahead of me. Left a pretty girl waiting for me to call. Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Not bothering to wait, Dustin stepped up to the door and opened it, stepping inside a grand foyer. He whistled softly, taking in the shimmering chandelier, the sweeping staircase, with a gold-woven rug running down the middle, and the many large and well-furnished rooms branching off from the entrance.

“Now this is a nice playhouse, huh?” he said, grinned indolently.

He saw Jameston’s jaw tighten fractionally. “Yes, sir,” he responded. “Now, I can give you a complete tour of the house now. However, Mr. Spencer’s real estate agent can do that when she arrives here in-” he glanced at his watch - a fake, Dustin had noticed - “a couple hours or so. Furthermore, there was a, erm, rather sensitive matter that Mr. Spencer tasked me with familiarizing you with personally.” He adjusted his tie slightly, clearly nervous, before motioning Dustin down one of the smaller hallways to the side.

His curiosity piqued, Dustin followed. “What do you mean? Oh, don’t tell me, was the old man into some shady illegal business? Drugs? Girls?”

Jameston shook his head, Adam's apple bobbing. “No sir. Your uncle, he was an.. art collector, of a sort. Well, he created his own art, really. However, it was not necessarily, um, legally acquired.”

Dustin barely held in a laugh at the lawyer’s clear panic. “Of course it wasn’t,” he scoffed. “Do you know how much shady shit has gone on in this family?” He couldn’t stop the bark of laughter this time. “Of course you do, you’re the lawyer.”

Jameston’s face flushed but he remained quiet until he reached an indiscreet door at the end of a short hall. If Dustin didn’t know any better, he’d assume it was a closet or something. Jameston cleared his throat as he opened the door. “Welcome to the Jewelry Box, sir.”

Carnelian sighed, his head falling back against the wall as he stretched his legs out along the small bed. The only sounds in the large room was the occasional movement from one of the others.

“That’s it,” he muttered, standing up and marching over to the glass wall. “Is anyone else wondering where the bastard is?” he called, frowning as he caught the gazes of several of the others.

Emerald just shook his head, silently warning him. Amethyst, however, scoffed, picking at her nails intently. “Why do you care?” she snapped. “It’s not like you’re ever doing anything but yelling and cursing.”

“So?” Carnelian shot back. “Aren’t you at least a little curious as to what’s going on?”

As if to answer his questions, he heard the door hiss open. Turning his gaze towards it, he felt his lips tugging down into a frown.

“Here we go again,” he muttered. “I knew the bastard would be back before long.”

Then he met the gaze of a stranger, arrogant and lazy and startlingly bright blue. Eyebrows flicking up, he blurted, “Who the fuck are you?”

Smirking, the stranger glanced at a smaller man next to him, one Carnelian had glimpsed down here once or twice before, always with the Jeweler. “I think I’d like to ask you the same question.”

The small man cleared his throat and began speaking, quietly enough that Carnelian couldn’t hear. Instead he took in the stranger, as if he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away.

The man was attractive, annoyingly attractive from Carnelian’s perspective. His skin was a bronzed tone, clear and smooth. He was tall, probably taller than Carnelian, with a lean, slightly muscled body. He had on a dark t-shirt that clung to his body and somehow looked expensive, with form-fitting jeans and some Converse high tops on as well. His dark brown hair was slightly wavy, with the top grown out long and falling into his face. Carnelian’s eyes drifted down towards his mouth before he forcefully pulled them back up to his eyes, which were-

Still on him. Carnelian felt himself blush and then scowl as he met the man’s gaze. Already he was getting on his nerves. And where the hell was the Jeweler? Was this stranger some new client of his, looking to buy one of them? At that thought, Carnelian felt a flash of panic through him and glanced over at Emerald, who was looking subtly at him as well, clearly thinking the same thing.

Carnelian tuned back in when the stranger exclaimed, “Are you shitting me right now?” The stranger was now looking at each of them, studying them more intently.

His gaze almost completely skimmed over Diamond and Ruby, both of them still curled up in their beds, watching with wary and confused gazes. He barely even noticed Amber, the new one still drugged to high heaven after mouthing off to the Jeweler yesterday. Carnelian doubted the kid could even remember their own name right now, much less stand up from where they were sprawled in their bed. He took a bit longer looking at Emerald, his defensive stance, wise eyes, then Amethyst, with her crossed arms and haughty expression, before finally settling on Carnelian.

After several long, tense seconds, he looked back at the other man. “So you’re saying,” he drawled slowly, deliberately. “That this, all of this, the house, the business, the.. Jewels-” his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk- “they’re all mine?”

Swallowing, the other man nodded. “Yes sir, that’s what I’m saying.” He drew out a piece of paper and, clearing his throat, began to read. “‘I hereby give the entirety of my properties, including my family home, my businesses, and my Jewelry Box, to my closest remaining blood relative upon my death.’ That would be you, Dustin Moore.”

There was a gasp from one of the other cells, where Diamond had stood up, flying to the window, eyes wide and frantic. “Death? Wait, no, Sir, he- he can’t be-” They dissolved into sobs, sliding to their knees on the floor.

Carnelian glanced around at the rest of the Jewels, the only sound coming from Diamond. The rest of them had frozen as well, not sure how they were meant to respond. Carnelian was reeling, glancing down as he took a shaky breath. On the one hand, he was glad the bastard was dead. On the other, well, the Jeweler had never looked at him the way the stranger, Dustin the other man had said, looked at him. The Jeweler looked at him like some prized object, something to be shown off proudly and then put back into storage. The Jeweler treated him less than human; Dustin’s gaze said he knew precisely how human Carnelian was, he just didn’t care.

Before he knew it, Carnelian was raising his head to glare at the other man, only to find him still looking at him. As Dustin slowly moved forward, he asked, “Did my uncle give these.. Jewels any names? Because I think I’m seeing a theme in them.” He stopped a couple feet away from the glass, his head tilted slightly. “The only one I can’t seem to figure out is this one.”

Carnelian’s lip curled. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he snarled softly, looking him up and down before raising his brows slightly. “Bastard jr,” he added.

Dustin almost seemed caught off guard before letting out a laugh. “I thought you said that he trained them to be all submissive and whatever,” he called over to the other. “Jameston, this one seems to be a bit feral.” He stepped even closer, lifting one hand to touch the glass. Carnelian fell back a couple inches, eyes still narrowed.

Jameston cleared his throat yet again. Carnelian would almost feel bad for the guy, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was complicit in letting him stay kidnapped. “Yes sir, your uncle had his ways of training them. However, he didn’t train them all the same way. He found that one’s fight to be..” He skimmed his notes quickly. “..rather appealing, sir.”

Carnelian made a noise of disgust as Dustin grinned. “I can’t say I blame him.”

Carnelian barely breathed until Dustin stepped away, turning back to Jameston. “Well, I’ve seen them all. Let’s go back upstairs now. I think I saw a nice liquor cabinet that I’d like to raid.”

Once they were both gone from view and the door had hissed shut, Carnelian leaned his head against the cool glass.

“You okay?” Emerald asked.

Carnelian just shook his head, a sudden lump in his throat. “The way he looked at me,” he said softly.

“I know,” Emerald murmured back.

He glanced up to find the older man looking at him with concern and pity.

“Well then,” Amethyst said loudly, breaking the silence that had fallen thick and heavy. “That was certainly something.”

Diamond sobbed loudly. “That.. that can’t be true. Can it?” They looked up, searching the others’ faces. Carnelian felt a twinge of pity for them. After over a decade of being trapped down here, they had been reduced to a mere shadow of whoever they might have once been. At whatever they might’ve seen on their faces, Diamond dissolved back into inconsolable sobs.

Resting her head on the wall, Ruby quietly asked, “So what happens now?”

There was a beat of silence before Emerald replied, “Now we wait.”

Back upstairs, Dustin was finally alone after getting rid of that annoying lawyer. He had had to practically shove the man out of the house to get him to leave. Even then, he had only left with promises to call later about the details.

For now, Dustin was sprawled out in a large, overstuffed armchair, a bottle of expensive whisky and a half empty glass next to him. He was already on his second glass, and he had no plans on stopping any time soon.

His mind drifted to the one who had glared and cursed at him. The smaller one, with the hard gaze, numerous freckles, and bright curly hair. The one Jameston had said was named Carnelian. Dustin looked up the stone and smiled at the pictures that were pulled up. Bright, fiery stones, of varying shades, Dustin had to admit, he could see the resemblance.

Pouring himself another glass, he sunk down further into the chair. He supposed he should be more concerned with the fact that there were six human beings locked in some creepy basement that he had apparently just inherited. But, after living the life that he had lived so far, Dustin had to admit that this was far from the craziest thing he had seen. He knew plenty of friends whose families had, well, less than legal people working for them, and now that he thought about it, he swore he could remember some show a few of his friends had gone to where the host had all his pets or whatever they were called designed as gemstones.

He laughed softly, quietly murmuring, “Carnelian, huh?” before draining the glass and pouring one more.

It was hours later when Carnelian awoke in the darkness. The bright lights, luckily, were still on their automated timer, so they had shut out at their usual time. It had been hours since Diamond’s sobs had slowly petered out and since the others’ quiet, stilted conversations had dwindled. Now, everyone was asleep.

Well, everyone except Carnelian. It took him a moment to figure out what had awoken him, a soft tapping on the glass wall of his cell. With a soft groan, he rolled over, out of the bed, squinting in the dim light.

In front of him stood the silhouette of a man. A couple seconds later, Carnelian recognized him as Dustin, his new.. owner. He almost snorted at the title. This man wasn’t any older than Carnelian, and he looked and behaved like an entitled, overprivileged frat boy.

Carnelian slowly walked closer. “What the hell do you want?” he whispered, because he didn’t want to accidentally wake the others and unleash the chaos that would bring with it. It took him a moment to realize that Dustin was fiddling with the lock on the door.

Without answering him, Dustin finally figured out how to unlatch it and swung the door open. He looked back up at Carnelian and made a silent motion for him to follow as he padded back towards the door.

Frowning, Carnelian carefully stepped out, towards him and the hallway beyond, where he could see light spilling out from the door. Knowing it probably wasn’t very smart, Carnelian walked into the hallway, squinting slightly at the suddenly bright lights.

Before he knew what was happening, there was a hand fisting in his hair and pushing him up against the wall. Carnelian looked up, eyes wide, to find Dustin standing much too close to him and several inches taller than him.

Feeling his breath stutter and his heart skip a beat, Carnelian breathed out, “What the hell do you want?” He barely dared take his eyes away from Dustin’s.

With the hand not pinning him to the wall, Dustin leaned closer and wrapped a curl around his finger, pulling until Carnelian wince slightly before letting it go, watching it bounce. This close, Carnelian could smell the whisky on his breath.

“Are.. are you drunk?” he asked, swallowing hard when that steely blue gaze met his, hazy yet surprisingly clear.

“That’s irrelevant,” he said, smirking as he pushed closer to Carnelian, who tried to pull away, but one vicious yank on his hair had his eyes watering and stilled the rest of his body. Dustin raised a hand and slowly traced over Carnelian’s cheeks, ending with one finger following the outline of his lips. “You’re Carnelian.”

Carnelian barely resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and instead held his breath, eyes wide and searching Dustin’s. He didn’t dare to breathe, much less speak, so he didn’t ask why Dustin had said something he already knew the answer to.

It felt as if an eternity had passed before Dustin pulled away, shoving Carnelian roughly back towards the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said glibly, pulling the door shut once Carnelian was through, leaving him back in the darkness.

Immediately, Carnelian went back to the one place he never thought he’d call safe. Once he had pulled the glass door closed, hearing the lock click, he curled up in his bed, as far away from the door as he could get, the thin blanket pulled over him as his heart beat in his throat.

He didn’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

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yoontopia · 4 years

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𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 | 𝗺𝘆𝗴

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: anti-soulmate au; light smut (in the form of making out, thigh grinding), angst if you squint, fluff, strangers to lovers, arranged marriage (kind of)

rating: M (for the light smut, swearing)

word count: 5.4k

summary: either you find your soulmate by the time you’re 25 or a partner is chosen for you, that’s the law. (un)fortunately for you, you were just born without a soulmate scar, an anomaly in a world defined by fate, so it seems your decision is made for you. you meet min yoongi the day after your twenty-fifth birthday and its everything but what you were brought up to believe. there are no sparks, no bells, and definitely no love.

author’s note: unedited because I wrote it pretty much in a sitting. will be editing later!

You are happy for Solhee. She’s twenty four-and a half and manages to find her soulmate by literally running into her outside the twenty-four-seven grocery store on the corner of the block. Solhee barely had six months to go before it would have been too late for her. The system assures you that you will find your soulmate, your other half, before the age of 25. If this doesn’t happen, the government intervenes and matches you with someone they see fit.

It wasn’t always like this. Your parents met when they were in their thirties, and are very much soulmates, if the matching marks on their wrists are any indication. But the government insists that anything after 25 is too late, especially to further the population. Society literally dictates that you’re married off by the time you’re 25.

You don’t want to know what happens if you don’t follow the law. And you’re happy Solhee doesn’t need to find out either. Solhee’s soulmate scar shines in the sunlight as the two of you sit out in the park, sipping on juice boxes and eating home-baked cookies. She tells you of her meeting with her soulmate, and the rush to get married so they can make it in time before the deadline. A plain, white gold band glitters on on her left ring finger.

“It felt like coming home,” she tells you, sighing and staring up at the blue sky. “Finding my soulmate, I mean. You know me, I never believed in this stuff. I figured if I didn’t find them, Big Brother would just hitch me off with someone and that would be okay. But I’m glad I found her in time. I can’t imagine it now if I hadn’t.”

You nod along, taking a sip of your pineapple juice. It’s sour, but you like it. Your eyes wander over to Solhee’s wrist — her mark is a small crescent-shaped moon — it matches the one on her fiancee’s wrist, and it stands out on her pale skin. You squeeze at your juice box to get the last remaining drop out, trying to ignore your empty, unmarked wrists.

Your soulmate mark never appeared. The latest you should’ve been able to see it would have been your 18th birthday. You remember, hiding away from your own party, rubbing your wrists raw, begging it to show up. Looking back, you aren’t sure who it was you were begging to.

Of course, you aren’t alone. There are several cases like yours. Marks that fail to show up, or even individuals who have the mark but don’t manage to find their soulmate on time. There is a solution for that — the matching program ensures you don’t end up alone.

After seeing your friends and coworkers find their soulmates though, you’re not sure you want someone to be arranged for you. It feels artificial and feels like you’re missing out on something incredible. What if the person they match with you doesn’t love you? What if you don’t love them?

It’s been a while since you’ve entertained such childish thoughts. You’re an adult now, almost 25, and this is a reality. In the next two months, on your 25th birthday, you’ll wait for the government to contact you. They’ll send you a name and then check in on the two of you consistently to make sure the match is happening. It’s not like you have a choice and you suppose its better than being completely alone and soulmate-less for the rest of your life. In a way, you’re almost grateful, as someone who doesn’t have the mark. You just wish things could be different.

You watch Solhee marry the love of her life exactly on her twenty fifth birthday. She glows in her dress, and as her best friend and maid of honour, you’re busy making sure the wedding goes by without a hitch. You’re the last of your friends to turn 25, meaning you’re the only one in the group currently single. Taehyung and Jimin, also friends from your college days, laugh and tell you to enjoy the last of your bachelorette days, but their entwined hands are all you can focus on. You know they’re just trying to make light of a rather depressing situation, and you’re grateful

You meet Min Yoongi on a snowy evening, the day after you’ve turned 25. He’s got curling dark hair, ears adorned by various earrings that dangle in the light. A delicate nose, and strong hands. He looks at you like he’s looking at a stranger, which for all intents and purposes, you are. You clutch at the letter in your hands with his name on it. You smile tentatively at him. He doesn’t smile back.

It doesn’t feel like coming home at all.

You move in with Yoongi as soon as the new year starts. He has a roomy apartment in the centre of town and lives by himself so its easier. He helps you move your boxes into his place. He never says much, but he’s never rude, or mean to you. In fact, he’s been polite, respectful — even caring, in a way you are to a coworker or an acquaintance. He shows you around his small flat. It’s two bedrooms, one of which he’s turned into a small studio. You know he works in the music industry, but aren’t sure what his exact job entails.

“I can move my work stuff to my actual studio at the company,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you don’t want to sleep in the same bedroom, that is. I don’t want to force you.”

You smile slightly, scratching your cheek.

“No it’s fine,” you say. “I don’t want to encroach. I promise I’ll stick to my side of the bed.” He nods.

“I usually work odd hours,” he says. “I DJ at the club down the street some nights, so I don’t come home until early morning hours. Usually I work from home during the day. There’s a schedule on the fridge.”

“Um, I work a regular 9-5,” you tell him and he nods again. “I’m home on the weekends and evenings.” It feels a little like drawing up a schedule with a roommate. You don’t really mind. It could��ve been so much worse.

Yoongi’s running a hand through his hair. You notice he wears a lot a jewelry, and file away this fact for later. His ears are adorned again with several earrings, pierced in multiple places. Bracelets clink on his wrists of various materials and colours. A single, silver necklace hangs around his neck, two fish swimming in a circle. He’s a Pisces, you realize. He’s been twenty five nine months longer than you have.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says, waving a hand towards his small, but cozy living room. A small couch and an armchair sit pointed towards the TV. A guitar sits in the corner of his studio, next to an old brown piano. Hints of music adorn the place, photos of Yoongi with his friends at various concerts and gigs. He looks different when he smiles. He has yet to smile at you.

You spend the rest of the day moving in, and its evening before you emerge from your now-shared bedroom with Yoongi. He’s nowhere to be found and the taped schedule to the fridge tells you tonight he DJs.

There’s containers full of food on the counter with your name on them, and you assume he’s left you some of his own meal. You eat alone, and do the dishes. You go to sleep that night, feeling no different from your usual self.

Months pass by quickly once you’re settled in with Yoongi. The two of you fall into an easy routine. You cook breakfast, and he cooks dinners and lunches are usually eaten at work. You split your grocery costs.

Honestly speaking, he’s a really easy roommate to live with. As time goes by, you get to know more things about each other. You learn that he likes meat more than anything else, that he has a tendency to overwork himself when deadlines are near. He has three close friends that he’s grown up with, and an older brother. His family owns a small brown poodle called Holly. His brother is a chef at a Korean restaurant in the city. You’ve met him once and liked him. He’s allergic to seafood, but eats it anyway because he likes it too much.

You also know he has, or had a soulmate. One time you caught him coming out of the shower wearing nothing but jeans. You were curled up on the living room couch watching TV and you could see him shuffling around shirtless in the bedroom, looking for a shirt to pull on. It’s the first time you see him without his usual bracelets and there is a mark on his wrist. You can’t make out what it is from where you’re sitting, but its there, clear as day against his milky white skin. An uncertain feeling curls in your stomach.

Until this point, you’d assumed Yoongi was like you — wrists bare. But this changes things — either he’s never met his soulmate, or they aren’t around anymore, and you don’t know what’s worse. He hasn’t spoken about it, and you almost understand why. It’s not like the two of you are close. Everything you know about him, you’ve gleaned from information you’ve received indirectly. You understand now, why he keeps you at an arms length.

You catch up with Solhee and Jiyeon over brunch. The two are bright eyed, fresh off their honeymoon. Hands entwined under the table, giggling. You laugh along with them, forgetting for a minute about your situation, that is, until Solhee brings it up.

“So how’s Yoongi?” The question is casual, but you know it’s a loaded one. Solhee isn’t just asking how Yoongi is.

“Fine,” you pick at your food. “He’s asleep right now — worked till late.”

“Hey he’s the DJ at Tropical right?” Jiyeon asks, leaning forward. “The popular one.” You’re dazed. Six months of living with him and you don’t even know which club he works at. You nod anyway, not wanting to appear clueless. “I heard he’s really good. Taehyung knows of him through Seokjin.”

“Kim Seokjin?” You ask, surprised. It’s one of Yoongi’s friends. Jiyeon nods. “He owns the club.”

“Hey we should go check him out one night!” Jiyeon is excited, and clueless. You smile half-heartedly at her and Solhee sighs. “Tae can get us into Tropical on the day Yoongi works — when does he work?”

“Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays,” you reply. Jiyeon nods.

“So… who’s down for it tomorrow?”

The club is sweaty, and crowded. You’re here without telling Yoongi, a fact that already makes you feel guilty for some reason. The strapless number Solhee had forced onto you clings to your skin as you follow your friends towards the bar. You haven’t been to a club since university and you can’t help but feel a little out of place.

“There he is!” Jiyeon screams, pointing towards the small stage at the other end of the dance floor. Sure enough, Yoongi stands there, two laptops in front of him. His hair is tucked into a baseball cap, but other than that he’s dressed the way he usually is, in jeans and a silk button up. The music is loud, and your heart thumps in your ears. “Let’s go closer!”

The three of you make your way closer to the stage, maneuvering past the sweaty, drunk bodies. You can barely make out the music he’s playing, and you know barely anything about music to know what’s good and what’s not. He must be good though, if the crowd is anything to go by.

Solhee pulls you and Jiyeon into a corner next to the stage with a good view and the three of you stand there bopping along to the music. Even though you barely know him, you have a strange feeling of pride curling up inside you. He’s incredible.

Your eyes glaze over the crowd until they land on a woman, standing only a few feet away from the three of you, one arm crossed under her chest, the other caressing her chin. She’s also watching the stage, a smile on her face. The world seems to spin for a second because your eye catches the mark on her wrist, and you don’t have to double check to know that it matches the dark haired man on the stage.

The night goes from bad to worse when Yoongi jumps off the stage after finishing his gig, and she runs up to give him a hug. You feel like throwing up, but nothing compares to what you feel when his eyes find you over her shoulder.

Things quickly sour after that. The peaceful relationship the two of you shared previously is shattered. You avoid him on the nights he’s home, preferring to crash at Solhee’s, who’s more than happy to accommodate you. Jiyeon apologizes profusely but you cannot blame her, not when none of this is her fault in the first place.

“Don’t you think you should let him explain?” Solhee asks one day over dinner.

“There’s nothing to explain,” you say automatically. “Their marks are there — it’s self explanatory.”

“What a harsh system,” Jiyeon adds softly. You nod. If there was a way for Yoongi and his soulmate to be together, you’d want it to happen. Then maybe you wouldn’t feel like an awkward third wheel. “Do you think they found each other after the deadline?”

“Definitely,” Solhee nods. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have been matched.”

“I don’t want to come in between anything,” you say softly.

“Oh honey you’re not,” Solhee says. “None of this is your fault.” You bite your lip, holding back tears threatening to fall. You haven’t cried in front of people in years. “It’s not Yoongi’s fault either. You should really go home and talk it out. He probably misses you.”

You choke out a laugh at that. The idea that Yoongi misses you is ludicrous. You were a nuisance to him at best, even though he’d been nothing but respectful of you and your space.

“What the two of you need is to spend time together,” Jiyeon says, and Solhee nods. “Get to know him, tell him he needs to come clean with you with everything. Maybe then things will see peace.”

You decide to go home that night. You know it’s a Tuesday and Yoongi should be home. Stomach in your throat, you shakily unlock the door to his—your— apartment. The TV is on, and Yoongi is curled up in the corner of the couch, swaddled up in a blanket. It’s only been a little over a week, but you find you’ve missed him. You find you’re also surprised he’s actually here. A part of you had almost expected him to take off. He turns to look at you and starts, hurrying to turn the TV off. It’s oddly clumsy from someone who you thought was aloof, and it almost makes you giggle. Almost.

“Hey.” You say lamely.

“Hey,” he replies back. It’s awkward. This is such a bad idea. Who decided confrontation was healthier than hiding from your feelings? You’d like to prove whoever it was wrong. You sigh, slumping a little, mind wandering again to the pretty girl that is his soulmate. You don’t usually hate how you look, but in this moment you can’t help but draw comparisons. Yoongi’s pretty too after all. Giving him a curt nod, you begin to make your way to the bedroom.

“I’m sorry.”

You pause, and turn to look. He’s standing up now, blanket still around his shoulders. A closer look tells you he looks tired. His ears are devoid of earrings for the first time, hair unkempt and greasy. He’s not wearing his usual bracelets — you suspect he only did it to hide his soulmate mark from you. You must be staring at him with a dumbfounded expression because he repeats his hushed apology.

“For what?” Your voice is just as shaky.

“Everything.” He says instantly.

“Do you love her?”

“No.” his reply is instant again, and you find yourself believing him. There’s no lie in his eyes. “I met her a month after we… moved in together,” A month after the government threw the two of you together against your will.

“Do you want to try things with her? I promise I won’t come in between that, I know how wonderful it can be to—”

“No.” He says again, his voice firm. He takes a tentative step towards you.

“Why not?” You’re genuinely curious. He shrugs, almost as if he doesn’t know the answer himself.

“Don’t want to.”

“Why not?” You turn to face him completely now. The two of you glaring at each other. He’s struggling to find the words and stares up at the ceiling in defeat.

“I don’t wanna leave you alone alright?” He snaps. You scoff

“Don’t pity me. I can take care of myself just fine. Did it before you came along too.”

“Don’t act brave when you don’t have to,” his voice is softer now. “You think I don’t hear you cry to yourself at night when you think you’re alone? Or when you hang out with those friends of yours and get suddenly quiet?” You open your mouth, then close it. Yoongi had attended a total of one party with you and your friends. You were surprised he picked up on it at all.

“But she’s your soulmate,” you say, confused. He shrugs and sits back down on the couch, flicking the TV back on.

“Yeah, she’s also someone I don’t know, and someone I’m not going to bother to know” he says easily. “I’m not gonna chase after her if it means losing a friend.” You didn’t even know he considered you a friend.

“B-but that night at the club?”

“Didn’t know she’d be there,” he says. “I’d told her to never contact me again the day I met her. Just because she thinks its okay to be unfaithful to her partner doesn’t mean I think its okay too. I’m not about to live that kind of life, especially with someone who thinks something like that is okay.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You take a hesitant step forward.

“What’re you watching?”

“Sky Castle.”

“Can I— can I join you?” He nods, patting at the empty spot on the couch next to him. “What if you regret this down the line?” You ask at last, sitting down on the other end of the couch. It’s your worst fear and you can’t believe you’re voicing it. “What if one day you wake up and wish you’d gone after your soulmate instead of settling for me?”

He smiles faintly, more to himself than anything. You think this is the first time he’s probably smiled in your presence.

“I made a choice already 5 months ago. Haven’t regretted it yet,” he says simply. He doesn’t deny that he settled for you, not when it’s the cold hard truth. You settled for him too after all.

The couch feels like home for the first time since you’d moved in.

Things change again quickly after that. You and Yoongi fall back into that seamless schedule, but now there’s a little something to it. The two of you are still far from a couple, but you find yourself curling up next to him in front of the TV more often. He waits for you to eat the meals the two of you are able to eat together. The two of you even do activities outside the apartment. You meet more his friends and he meets more of yours. Its progress. You don’t mention his soulmate again, and neither does he.

You find Yoongi’s actually a really easy person to get along with. He’s funny in his own dry, sarcastic way, often saying jokes with the straightest of faces. He snappish and straightforward and has an incredibly low tolerance for bullshit. His friends baby him, probably because of his smaller stature and childlike features, and although he grumbles, he lets them. You even think he enjoys it. He smiles more in front of you now, gums on display, and you know that his cold persona in the beginning was just a front. In reality Yoongi is a shy, awkward boy that finds it hard to make friends, and so he comes off aloof, but is anything but

It also makes sense to you why Yoongi had been so firm in staying with you all those months ago. He’s steadfastly loyal, never going back on his word, and even honest to a fault. Sometimes, when you’re in one of your self-deprecating moods, you think he only chose to stay with you because of his principals, and not because he actually cared for you beyond a friend. But you’re glad he’s here nonetheless. With all your friends paired off, you’re glad you have someone to do things with. Someone who, in a way, belongs entirely to you.

You marry Yoongi exactly one year after the two of you met. Non-soulmate matches don’t have the deadline to wed as soulmates do. As long as Big Brother (as Solhee so lovingly calls the federal government) knows you’ve been matched in their system, you can take things easy and get to know one another. How sweet of them to allow that, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He looks smart in his plain black suit, hair neatly parted, showing off his forehead and well marked eyebrows. He looks older like this. You wear a simple white dress, and carry a bouquet of lilies down the aisle. Yoongi doesn’t cry with happiness at the sight of you, but his slight grin warms your heart. You know that whatever the case, you’ll be comfortable with him.

He plants a simple kiss on your lips, a formality more than anything else. You and Yoongi aren’t physical. What you share is a platonic friendship, and you try not to let your mother’s suggestive wink cloud your mind. While you like Yoongi, you’re not sure you think of him in that way, and he definitely has never thought of you as anything more than a friend. Yoongi’s hands are warm and calloused and familiar, and you think you can learn to make a home in them.

“My parents are soulmates,” you tell him on your wedding night as the two of you lie on your shared bed staring up at the ceiling. “They met when my mother was 27, my father 32.” You don’t know why you’re telling him this. You’ve changed into your comfy PJs, but Yoongi is still in his dress shirt and trousers, top buttons undone, tie loose. You want him to know you.

“Mine were too,” he hums. You turn to look at him. You’ve never met his mother. His father and brother were at the wedding, but you weren’t sure if the topic of his mother was a sensitive issue. “Until things didn’t work out and she left him.”

“Oh?” Stories like that were rare. This is your first time hearing one. Yoongi doesn’t elaborate on his mother’s life and you don’t ask, grateful that he’s entrusted you with this information.

“I guess that’s why I don’t really believe in the whole soulmate thing,” he continues, sitting up and pulling his tie off. “There’s no such thing as fate or destiny. It’s all about choices and commitment.”

His soulmate mark is visible to you now as he gets up to take his shirt off and change into something comfier. It almost looks like a tattoo, a small fish, not unlike the one he wears in his necklace. The mark is familiar to you now, but it doesn’t carry the same pain. His words are new to you, having grown up around talks of fate and destiny, but you find comfort in them. Hearing him say it like that makes your heart warm. The two of you fall asleep easily that night, facing each other, but still a few feet apart

Yoongi’s eyes flash as you enter the bar. You’d gotten dressed at Solhee’s place and she’d sat you down in her chair, eyes devious, and done your makeup. You feel uncomfortable in your skin, face heavy with everything she’d slapped on it and you pull down your skirt.

“Cheer up, you look hot as fuck,” Solhee hisses beside you as the two of you make your way to the reserved table where the rest of your friends are. “If Yoongi doesn’t get a boner after this, I don’t know anymore.” You shush her hastily, ears going red as you sit down across from your husband. He’s still staring at you, something dark evident in his eyes, and you try to ignore the roaring in your ears.

Marriage had treated you two well. You still weren’t physical, but sharing pecks before heading off to work, or cuddling and hand holding weren’t foreign concepts anymore. You weren’t sure how far Yoongi wanted to go, and you didn’t know what you yourself wanted.

Yoongi looks good today. He’s wearing his infamous dark silk button up, with the top three buttons undone so you can see the column of his throat. His hair is parted and in the dim lighting he almost looks like a feline ready to pounce on his prey. You swallow.

Your husband’s beauty is not foreign to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before after all. You’ve seen his hands as they glide over piano keys or when they pluck at his guitar. Yoongi is beautiful and you can’t deny the attraction you have grown to hold for him. Your insecurities however, prevent you from verbalizing your thoughts. There’s just no way he’d be attracted to you, not in that way. Next to Yoongi, you look painfully average.

He doesn’t say much, just sits across from you and sips on his whiskey, occasionally leaning forward to snag a nacho from the shared plate the table has ordered. You wonder if he’s angry at you about something.

Halfway through the night, the several glasses of wine you’ve drunk catch up to you and you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You’re trying not to stumble and you’re thankful you make it to the bathroom in one piece.

When you come out of the stall and are washing your hands, you jump when you see Yoongi enter the bathroom.

“Yoongi!” You hiss. “This is the girl’s bathroom—.” Yoongi raises a well-marked eyebrow, and walks up to you in two quick strides. Before you know it, he’s crushed his lips to yours. You’re taken aback but you melt into the kiss quickly, hands roaming up to grasp onto the front of his shirt. His hands settle on your hips before moving to grab your ass. You gasp and he takes the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue.

Dimly you’re aware that this is technically your first real kiss. He tastes like whiskey as he pulls you closer to him, shoving a leg between your thighs. You let out a whimper, and you can feel him smile against your mouth. He lets go with a pop before latching his lips onto your neck. You throw your head back with a groan, freely grinding on his thigh now as he licks a thick stripe up your neck and nibbles at your ear.

“Let’s get out of here,” he groans, voice deep. “Before I fuck you in this disgusting bathroom.” You moan at his words and make a voice of complaint when he pulls himself away. You straighten your skirt hastily and eye him, his lips swollen and smeared with your lipstick. He grabs your arm by the wrist and pulls you out of the bathroom, out of the bar and into the crisp night air. The two of you giggle as you walk to your apartment, Yoongi stopping you periodically to steal kisses.

You unlock the door hastily, and he pushes you in, slamming the door behind him and latching onto you immediately. You moan as his hands reach your skirt and pull it up over your ass.

“God,” he groans in between kisses. Your shaky hands are unbuttoning his shirt. You push it off him. “Please tell me you want this.” He walks you towards your bedroom, shoving you onto your bed.

“Yes,” you respond instantly, breathless, looking up at him. “Yes, oh god, of course I do.” He’s climbing on top of you now, leg back between your legs. You grind onto his thigh, wild moans escaping your mouth as he sucks a bruise onto your neck, his rock-hard erection prominent against your core. Your hands find his belt and take it apart, undoing the buttons on his jeans. He sits up to push his pants off him before reaching over to tug your top over your head. You’re left in a bra and underwear, your skirt bunched up at your waist, staring at him expectantly.

That night is simple, the two of you moving in unison, finding what the other likes. Your hands disappear in his hair and he makes a home in the crook of your neck as you reach your respective highs.

You fall asleep blissful and satisfied, curled up in Yoongi’s arms.

Your relationship takes yet another turn after that moment. Now its like the two of you can’t keep your hands off of each other. Consequently you do it on every surface in the apartment. It’s funny, you think, you haven’t even said the L word to each other yet, and you’re not even sure if you do. Growing up, you were taught that one came after the other, but your relationship with Yoongi is anything but conventional.

At night, he holds you, curling his body around you like a child. You can hear his heartbeat this way, and nights soon become the things you look forward to the most.

It still doesn’t make the relationship easy. You argue, slam doors, ignore texts, but at the end of the day when you crawl into bed, apologies evident on your tongue, he pulls you in and kisses the crown of your head wordlessly.

You and Yoongi are solid; a team, almost. You think you work well together. Growing up you were taught that finding your soulmate meant ringing bells, and puzzle pieces feeling like they were slotting into place and you spent your entire adolescence craving that. But whatever this is that you share with Yoongi is special, in its own way. There are no sparks, no flashing lights, and definitely no bells. Now you know what Solhee meant all those years ago about the feeling of coming home. There isn’t any other way to describe this feeling.

There are many more turning points in your relationship that you look back on fondly — the day you told him you loved him is one you remember vividly. It was nothing special, just casual conversation over dinner. He’d given you a blinding smile and returned the sentiment.

“Do you regret it?” You ask, out of nowhere. You’re washing dishes and he’s beside you helping you dry them.

“Hm?”

“Choosing me, back then. Do you regret it?” You know the answer already. Gone are the many months you spent belittling yourself. It’s been a few years with Yoongi now and you know exactly where you stand with him.

“I wonder sometimes,” he hums. “How differently things would’ve played out.” Don’t we all, you muse to yourself. You could’ve been matched with anyone but somehow it was Min Yoongi that stood in front of you on that cold, snowy that day, unsmiling and unfamiliar. It feels like a lifetime ago. When you look at him now, he’s heartbreakingly familiar. You know him like the back of your hand. “But there hasn’t been a single day where I’ve regretted you.” You grin and poke his cheek with your soapy hand.

“Go wake Sunhee up,” you laugh. “It’s time to feed her.”

“Yes ma’am,” he tells you dutifully and you watch as he shuffles into the second smaller bedroom. Gone is the studio equipment, replaced with pastel green walls and a small wooden crib Yoongi had crafted himself. Sometimes, when you look in there, you can still see a dark-haired boy with his eyes closed, playing on that old brown piano.

#kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #min yoongi #yoongi fluff #bts #bts fluff #yoongi #suga #suga fluff

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fuck-goes-on · 3 years

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Kastila - part one

pairing/s: pero tovar x filipino fem! reader

summary: pero was part of the Spanish expedition with fernando de magallanes to find the new world. after the loss of ships and numerous months on sea, the crew was relieved to have found land. however, they realised they weren't alone.

warning/s: BASED ON HISTORY, historical people and events are dramatised for fictional purposes, period-typical violence, men, nudity, fictional ferdinand magellan is a warning

disclaimer: i am not a historian, i have done all the research i could do, if there are any inaccuracies, i apologise, this is only for fictional purposes

note/s: here it is! my first ever series that i hope wont flop HAHAHA just to be clear, i am filipino, born and raised in the philippines, and i just want to share my country’s history even if its through a fanfic, that means i will be very biased towards my own people and not be nice to the spaniards, awfully sorry :-)

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Pero was sick of the sea.

He never really liked it growing up as a kid, and his feelings about it didn't change as an adult. So you'd think he would turn down the opportunity to be a part of the crew that would find the New World. But, the pay was large and a small part of himself was curious of what they would find.

Pero was sick of the men.

They were loud and boisterous, proud and thick-skulled. He never participated in their daily drinking, always nursing a bottle to himself in his cot, and judged them hard whenever they fought and beat each other up. The men were tiring and he wondered if he could just throw himself into the sea.

Pero was sick of Magallanes.

The man was the head of the expedition, the proudest of them all. His ideas were impressive, and the fact that the Portuguese man went to a Spaniard king for approval and resources after being rejected by his own king was admirable. Doesn't excuse the fact that the man was a complete asshole; Always looking down upon the crew and thinking he was better than the rest of them.

It had months and months of nothing but water, the men were starting to become more irritable, if that was even possible, and Magallanes was slowly going mad with his ideas. Pero paid none of them any attention, focusing on sharpening his swords and polishing his armour for nothing. Their rations were decreasing and soon all they were eating was bread and cheese. With the loss of three ships, they were dancing with death.

Pero was training with one of the men, slashing at the other with his swords, when another crewmate shouted. Everyone, including him, straightened up and ran to get their weapons. He watched with his swords clutched in his hands as Magallanes looked over the horizon with his spyglass. Everybody waited with bated breaths, and when the Portuguese man turned around with a bright face, all the men cheered loudly.

There was finally land spotted, and Pero could not thank God enough.

As the Victoria neared the shore, the crew prepared for a disembarking of the ship. Pero walked to the edge of the hull to inspect the sand and the trees. His eyes were no longer as sharp as they were when he was younger, but he was sure to have seen a silhouette move in the large coconut trees. However, he was quickly pulled away to help the crew before he could say anything to the captain.

When the ship was anchored down as close to shore as possible, Pero joined Magallanes and two men in a small boat to officially land. He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling stirring in his gut, and it only increased just after stepping on the damp sand. As he walked around, not fully separating from the group, they were suddenly surrounded by armed men and... women?

The five natives had long dark hair, long enough to cover their chests, a piece of fabric wrapped around their head to hold it back. Their necks, wrists and ankles were adorned with beaded necklaces and bracelets, accentuating the black marks painted onto their brown skin. Their privates were covered by a beautifully sewn fabric, loincloths and skirts for men and women respectively. They held long spears made of strong bamboo and sharpened rocks tied to the tip of the stick.

One of the native women slowly approached Magallanes, recognising him as their ‘leader’, while holding her spear to his neck. Pero observed quietly, his hands never letting go of his newly polished swords. The woman had her breasts bared open for all to see, unashamed of her nudity, and even had the same marks swirling all over her skin. Her face was twisted in anger, her lips pulled back in a snarl. She was beautiful, he thought to himself.

“Kinsa ka?” (Who are you?) Her voice rang out, both harsh and soft at the same time. “Ngano naa ka diri?” (Why are you here?) Her stance was of someone who had experience, her grip on her spear showed that she was capable of killing them on the spot. When Magallanes didn’t answer, she moved to jab the man with her weapon when another voice stopped her.

“Anak, unsa imong gibuhat? Imong gipagawas sila karon dayon.” (My child, what are you doing? You let them go right now.) A man, dressed the same as the other natives, walked out from the trees with his hands in the air. The woman whipped her head back to stare at the man with a surprised expression before drawing away, the other natives following her as well.

Pero and the crew watched with astonishment as the man walked towards them, the natives bowed their heads and stepped away. The woman softened a tad and pressed the man’s hand to her forehead before stepping away as well, although with reluctance.

The native man was clearly of a higher status, the long dark hair tied back with colourful cloth and beads, a band decorated with feathers and fur wrapped around his head, and gold jewelry on his neck and arms. His smile was blinding as he moved to hug Magallanes, the Portuguese man too shocked to reciprocate.

“Rajah Humabón.” the man pointed to himself as he said what Pero assumed to be his name. He gestured to Magallanes for his name, to which he returned the favour. Humabón turned to the awaiting natives, shouting, “Moapil sa among piyesta karong gabii si Sri Fernando ug ang iyang mga tawo!” (Sir Fernando and his men will join our feast tonight!)

Humabón then used his hands, pushing his fingers together and tapping them to the palm of his other hand before pressing them to his lips, signing the action of eating. Pero sighed and relaxed his stance; He didn’t fully trust the people, but if they had food and were willing to share, then they’re his new best friends.

“Do you think they will actually feed us?” A crewmate whispered to Pero. He shrugged and clapped the man on the back.

“Compadre, I’ll eat regardless if it’s poisoned or not,” Pero said before following Magallanes back to the ships to gather the rest of the men for the meal the natives invited them to. He looked back to see the natives blending back into the trees and bushes, catching the eye of the native woman and bowing his head towards her. It seemed to please her and she walked away with her head held high.

“Father, why did you invite those men to our feast?” You asked him when you finally arrived at the centre of your village, your brows furrowed and expression tense. Your father looked at you with his eyebrow quirked upwards.

You followed your father, the Rajah, back towards your village with annoyance. You directed your frown at his backside, gripping your spear tight and close to your body. The friends who were with you when you ‘greeted’ the strange men were wary of you, knowing how explosive your temper could be.

“My child, when you become the Rani of our village, you will find there are some battles you do not want to start and instead reach your hand out to make allies.” Humabón said, holding your hand in his, patting the back of your palm gently. You pouted at him, not satisfied with that answer, but you know you wouldn’t get anything more than that. “Besides, we should not waste our energy to these men who look like death and instead share with them with our blessings from Bathala. There is also the Datu of Mactan to mention.”

You sighed and relented, hugging your father a farewell and walking towards the hut where your friends were preparing food for the night’s meal. As you made your way, you couldn’t help but think about the man who bowed his head to you before he left for their large boat. His scar running from his left brow to the top of his left cheek was curiously handsome; You’d never seen a man fully clothed in metal and you wondered why they wore it in the first place; Surely it was too hot under all those layers?

Despite not agreeing on allowing the strange men to feast with them, you couldn’t help but be eager to see more of the scarred man.

#special thanks to my mother for helping me with the bisaya dialogue #please applaud my mother she also had no idea why i decided to do this #HAHAHAH #kastila series #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #the great wall #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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