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irondad-not-ironsad · 3 years

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WandaVision Episode 1 Reaction

Spoilers below!!

I enjoy the music over the marvel logo

But also a 43 second logo feels kinda long for a 29 minute episode- is it just for the premier or is this gonna happen before each ep?

Also I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that there is a title sequence, which will probably be similar in length. Combine that with the lengthy credits people have been complaining about, it seems that the percentage of the thirty minutes that is actually the story is lower than it should be

not that I don’t love a good title sequence! But I’ll take a well fleshed out episode over fancy logos, title sequences and credits any day

now that I’ve got that of my chest, on to the actual show

I like how they have the frame shaped like that of an old timey tv, combined with the black and white it really adds to the old timey sit come vibe

I like these bells

Ok I know I complained about to much time being wasted with logos and such, but i LOVE how cheesy this theme song is and I love them showing vision and Wanda driving tp there house in wedding attire

“A regular husband and wife” 2 seconds late *vision disappears into a cloud of sparkles*.... 1 minute 8 seconds in and I love this

Even there acting is reminiscent of an old timey sit com this is amazing

feel like I should note he title sequence ends at the 1.36 mark approximately, which may not seem like a lot but again the show is less than thirty minutes so it adds up

Wanda talks with a fifties accent: I already love this show

Also I wish I had magic I could use to clean, I’m moving back into my dorm right now and Wanda’s powers would be SO helpful

Also I LOVE the laugh track

Also Wanda’s short curly hair is so cute

I love how neither of them knows what the heart means so they play it off by being like “yeah of course I know what it means, how could I forget? Do YOU remember what it means

Also Vision is literally part computer shouldn’t he have a photographic memory?

Also how old is Wanda? I could have sworn someone said she was 19 in civil war, which would make her like 21 here? I think?? Idk tho, as a 19 year old I don’t think she has ever looked 19 in the movies, even back in Ultron she looked at least in her mid twenties

The face Vision makes when he makes himself human is so funny

Also Vision blowing Wanda a kiss and her reaching back to grab it is the perfect amount of corny that makes it still cute

Also I wonder what vision’s job is

The backing music is so funny

I can already tell Agnes is going to be some great comic relief in a show that’s already hilarious

“I assure you, I’m married. To a man. A HUMAN one!” I know I’ve said before that I was never the biggest fan of Wanda or Vision but I love Wanda in this show

Obv there is something clearly off here, but I feel like I need to mention that it’s clear this is some warped reality. If I had never seen any of the MCU before, I may believe it was just witch and her robot husband living in the fifties, but the little details really make it clear to the audience (the majority of whom I am sure are familiar with the mcu) that something is off. This scene is one of those, where Wanda cannot seem to recall how long her and Vision have been together and plays it off by saying “It feels like we always have been together”

Is Agnes giving Wanda advice for the bedroom? is this really what I’m watching? Or have I wildly misinterpreted this?

Love the old timey lingo

Vision working a desk job is so funny

Love that vision doesn’t even know what they do at his job, I know it’s part of the false reality thing but also lowkey relatable

“you’re like a walking computer” “I most certainly am not! I’m a regular carbon-based employee made entirely of organic matter”

I started this like twenty minutes ago and have only gotten 7 minutes in because I keep stopping to type my reactions. I am going to try to shut up and watch, and stop screaming about every little detail for a bit 😂

Real quick though does Vision just go by Vision at work?

Ope apparently he does.

I wonder if Vision took Wanda’s last name

Or is he Vision Stark-Banner since it was Tony and Bruce who made him??

He probably isn’t called that but I think it would be funny if he was

Love that instead of writing “dinner with boss” or “Dinner w/ Harts” or even just “Harts” he drew a freaking heart like im dying

if my lack of emojis seems weird I’m typing this on a computer which I never normally do and I’m to lazy to pull up the emoji keyboard, so basically imagine there’s a cry laughing emoji after everything funny

“No skeletons in the closet?’ “I don’t have a skeleton sir.”

Yup I was right, Agnes is giving her sexy time advice

“you should stumble when you walk in a room so he can catch you. It’s romantic!” that is the only way I will be flirting from now on

Also I got to say, I'm guessing it’s a fifties thing but those pointy bras don’t look comfortable

So she answers the phone “Vision Residence” Is Vision also their last name now? Does he go by Vision Vision??

They make the best facial expressions

This phone conversation where Wanda think they’re having a date night whereas Vision is talking about his boss coming for dinner is comedy GOLD

also I love the fact that they’re giving us stereotypical sitcom drama while keeping it clear that there are bigger problems than dinner with the boss

Fake commercial break is at 9.56 (these time stamps are for myself I want to calculate how much of the episode is actually the story)

I do love the fake commercials tho! And I suppose in a way they ARE part of the show

They missed the chance to make it the toastmate three thousand and make every ironman fan cry

The beeping toaster sounds like a ticking bomb..... also the little red light is the only color we’ve seen this episode I think

Commercial ends at 10.46

Also love that it was an SI toaster, still wish they had made it 3000 instead of 2000

How did Wanda confuse Mr. Hart with her husband? Not that I’m complaining, her coming out in a robe and covering Vis’ Boss’ eyes is HILARIOUS

“This is the traditional Sokovian greeting? Didn’t I tell you my wife is from Europe?” “How exotic!” “We don’t break bread with Bolsheviks”

Visions pants are SO high waisted

“It’s our anniversary!” “Our anniversary of WHAT?” “WELL IF YOU DON”T KNOW I”M NOT GONNA TELL YOU”

Poor Vision is trying to figure out what kind of company he works for this is sooo funny

Agnes coming in clutch with a full meal

So Wanda needs the ingredients in order to magic a meal she can’t just make one appear

Vision breaking into song was amazing

How did one chicken turn into like 30 eggs

Vision is singing old McDonald with his bosses wife this is great

“Diane!” “That must be my wife summoning me!” “She calls you Diane?” “Yes... it’s her pet name for me” “I’m coming... Fred”

So many clichés in this show but it’s done in such a purposeful way that it’s still funny

Also we have only seen three rooms: the kitchen, the living room and Vision’s workplace

“Well I think tonight’s going SWIMMINGLY”

Mrs. Hart is SO NOSY

But I love that they don’t know the answers

Wanda looks SO disturbed when Mr. Hart is demanding her and visions story, you can tell her mind is fighting itself and it’s so sad

Mr. Hart is choking, is it bad that I think he deserves it?

Mrs. Hart keeps cheerily repeating stop it, and gone is the stereotypical sitcom camera angles and and the backing music is switched for something eery

This is lowkey scary, Mr. Hart Dying while his wife keeps cheerily saying Stop It and it just feels creepier the more she repeats

Wanda looks distressed and vision is just looking to her for what to do, her old timey accent is gone and she sounds nearly robotic as she tells Vision to help

Poor Wanda, she is so clearly going through it mentally right now

Laugh track is back, and just like that the Harts are leaving, despite only having one bite of food

And somehow Mr. Hart is impressed? Was Wanda rewriting reality to make them so?

I know that this is clearly some alternate reality and nothing is right, but wanda and vision deciding to choose that day as there anniversary and this little convo here is soooooo cute

Aw her making them rings and them both saying I do is soooo cute

And vision saying “and they lived happily ever after’ is so sweet but also so sad in context

What is that little remote vision is holding meant to be?

And love the hexagon closing in on them with the cute music playing to end the episode

Are the people in these credits real? Because it lists the start as Wanda Maximoff and Vision but are the rest actual people?

So there is some sketchy dude watching the maybe fake credits so there's something going on there

The actual credits start with 7.13 left and I’ve been told there's no mid or post credits scene. I’ll let them play while I finish this up anyways

8 minutes and 49 seconds of this show is the logo, title sequence and credits. Out of 29.36 total this means only 20 minutes and 47 seconds is the show, which I suppose is standard for a sitcom but I think I felt deceived by it showing as 29 minutes

Also 50 seconds of “commercial takes the show time down to 19.57 if anyone was wondering

I swear tho I’m not all that bothered by the length, just did the math in case anyone was curious like I am.

I thought I was going to really enjoy this going it, but it still really surpassed my expectations and I can’t wait for episode 2!

This is my raw reactions, but I’m sure that as I mull it over more I’ll be posting more about the show

This is somehow a perfect combo of lighthearted comedy and mild horror

I wanna let this episode stew for a while, so I prob won’t watch episode 2 for at least a day

Also what are your guys’ thoughts on this format of reaction? Did I write to much?

Also what did y’all think of this episode? Feel free to let me know what you think of my reaction, and whether you agree or disagree. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

#anna reacts to wandavision #anna reacts #wandavision #mcu #marvel #avengers #scarlet witch #vision #wanda maximoff #disney plus #wandavision spoilers #wv spoilers #mcu spoilers #marvel spoilers

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lo-55 · 3 years

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Lightning In A Bottle Ch. 2

Nanohana wasn’t changed much, to the point that Nao was beginning to wonder how long she had been inside her crystal prison. She had no idea how much time had passed, but if the boy who had broken her out of the rock hadn’t recognized her or her flag it had to have been a while.

And that hat…

It had to be a duplicate, surely.

Nao tucked her hands into the pockets of her pants. Her high leather boots kept the sand out of her socks, at least, and when Luffy managed to burn whole sacks of Raindance powder her cape kept her dry. At her side, Odenta and Mikazuki hung as heavy comforts in their sheaths. They didn’t garner nearly as much attention in the city as Nao and the Gem’s had when they had arrived however long ago that was. Back there the city had emptied out as soon as they stepped foot in the sand covered streets of the Alabastan port.

No, no one even looked twice at them, there were so many people going through the city.

Not her, or Luffy in his hat.

How peculiar.

Nao made a mental note to get a hold of a newspaper as soon as she could, or maybe visit Ohara. They would have the best records about what she’d missed.

It would have to wait. Ohara was a long ways from Alabasta, and it would be hard to sail Blood Stone without someone else helping her. The ship was just a little felucca, hardly big enough for fifteen people, but she was tough as nails and made for the roughest waters in the world. All the same, it wasn’t safe to sail alone in the Grand Line, where the weather might change without warning, when there wasn’t someone to stay awake and keep watch. Not to mention Marine’s, other pirates, and all sorts of other dangers. Sea Kings probably hadn’t gone extinct since she went under. She’d rather not deal with them.

Nao was so busy contemplating her ship that she nearly walked right by the restaurant that Luffy went shooting into.

She had to backtrack to poke her head inside. A crowd had gathered, and Luffy was ignoring it entirely in face of ordering lunch. A pair of unconscious bodies lay through several broken walls.

Nao cocked her head. Had Luffy done that when hed stretched out and launched himself like a demented rubberband? She knew it had to be a Devil Fruit, but she didn’t expect him to go causing that much destruction mindlessly.

What a weird kid.

Ah well. Pirate.

Nao took a seat next to Luffy while the chef frantically started cooking. Whoever had been in before them had eaten a lot, with dirty plates stacked nearly to the ceiling. Now he was feeding Luffy, and her too.

Nao made a mental note to tip him well.

She casually elbowed Luffy’s face out of the way and stole a whole chicken to rip into.

“Hey!” he shouted around a mouthful of food. His head stretched unnaturally away on his neck. “That’s mine!”

“Finders keepers,” she said succinctly, and shoveled it into her face as fast as she could. Time hadn’t passed for her at all inside the stone. Her injuries from the battle weren’t healed, and she didn’t feel well rested. She was famished, but not starving like she’d spent months unconscious.

Nevertheless, she’d always been a big eater. She needed the energy to keep up with her lifestyle, and to keep herself strong enough to fight. She wouldn't let her broad shoulders shrivel or her powerful legs grow weak if she could help it. It was a death sentence.

She nearly bit Luffy’s hand inhaling spicy noodles next, and a hank of lamb. The chef was sweating and out of breath but he kept putting food on the counter and they kept eating. Luffy was chatting with the locals while he ate.

“Why’s there a hole in the wall? Is that some weird hobby of yours?”

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO PUT THE HOLE IN THE WALL!”

She knew it.

Nao was in the middle of a plate of roasted peppers when one of the formerly-unconscious men climbed out of the hole in the wall. She watched him get slammed back down by a man in a fur coat, and the next thing she knew she was getting dragged through the streets of Nanohara by Luffy.

Why are we running? That guy isn’t even that strong...

“Tashigi!” the man chasing them shouted, “Stop them!”

Nao looked forwards to see a girl with a sword.

“I’ll handle her,” she offered Luffy, who nodded and let go so he could go bouncing up onto the rooftops like a ninja or something. In one smooth move Nao drew Odenta from her side and lifted it to block a blow from the other girl, Tashigi.

“Nice sword,” Nao grinned sharply at the girl over their locked blades. Her form was good, but she wasn’t very strong. Too bad.

“Yours is too. It’s a shame it’s being used by pirate scum!”

“Xeshishishi, tell you what, if you can beat me you can have her.”

The man who’d been smashed into the floor landed next to the two. An orange hat rested on his head and he had a bad slung over one shoulder. Black hair fell in soft waves to frame his cheeks, which were covered with freckles.

There was something familiar about him…

“Excuse me, ladies,” he said politely, startling both of them into looking away from their crossed blades to him instead. He tipped his hat towards them, then the building that Luffy had jumped up onto. He was blocked from it by their swords. “I have to catch up with my brother now.”

“Uh, sure,” said the marine girl. They pulled their blades away to make a path for him.

“Why are you telling us this…?” the redhead countered, looking confused. She faltered when she got a good look at his face, recognition shooting through her. Nao sucked in a breath. He looked like-

“Hey, hold on-!”

“Sorry, I can’t,” Portgas waved to them and shot over the rooftops, after his brother and the marine. Nao shook her head. She would see him again, if he was chasing Luffy.

Nao drew back and slashed again easily. Each move was economic and graceful. She spared no energy, partially because she simply didn’t have any. Tashigi blocked, but the force pushed her back a few feet.

Nao parried her next attack and side stepped to smack her on the back of the neck with Odenta, sending her careening to the ground.

Someone screamed, but no blood came from the fallen marine.

She touched the back of her neck in confusion. “Wha-?”

Nao didn’t answer.

She was already gone.

Nao ducked around a corner and ran after Luffy, following his Haki until she caught up with him and a group of colorful people. Hadn’t he said he was a pirate? Or he was going to be King of the Pirates. That was what he’d said. Well, to be king of them you needed to be a pirate in the first place, right?

That sounded right.

So these people were probably his crew.

When he saw her he grinned and threw his hand out. It stretched far enough to grab her by the wrist and yank her forwards.

“Hey! You made it past the sword lady!”

“Well yeah,” Nao landed beside him running. Her leg was starting to ache where a cut had caught her over the knee.

“Who are you supposed to be?” A curly haired young man with a long nose demanded, eying her.

“She’s a rock person I found,” Luffy said cheerfully.

“That. About sums it up,” Nao felt herself smile involuntarily. “I’m Roche Nao,” she said for the second time that day. She really hoped they stopped running soon. Her leg was seriously starting to ache.

“So Luffy picked up someone else weird,” an orange haired girl looked exasperated more than anything else. Nao felt like she should have been offended, but she just shrugged. She was too tired to be upset with people who hadn’t actually done anything to her.

Besides, she wasn’t wrong.

They came upon a pretty caraval, with a sweet looking figure head. A sheep. Nao felt herself smile. It was cute and light hearted, like this crew seemed to be. Nothing at all like the swift, devil faced Blood Stone. Her eyes were two carved rubies, and a pair of snakes twined around her in a macabre necklace that matched the one that hung beneath Nao’s own shirt.

“Permission to come aboard?” she asked Luffy lightly. The boy beamed at her and tipped the brim of his hat.

“Granted!”

They scampered onto the ship and in a whirlwind of motion they set sail. The caravel carried them away from the port. The pirate flag flapped in the wind, showing off a skull wearing a straw hat.

Seriously, what was up with that hat?

Had that up-and-coming volcano really given it to some upstart?

...actually. That sounded exactly like something he would do.

She realized that their little pet (a raccoon?) was staring at her only when he shouted suddenly.

“Ah! You’re bleeding!”

It was a testement to how tired she was that she hadn’t noticed that he was a mink, and not just a weird animal.

“Hah? Where?”

“Your leg! Quick, take off your pants and I’ll- ouch!”

The orange haired girl smacked him over the head. “Don’t ask it like that!” she scolded.

“But I need to see how bad it is! She might need a doctor!”

“You’re the doctor!”

Ah. Nao would have preferred they didn’t know she was actually injured, or weak, but there was nothing to be done about it. They seemed like good people anyhow, as far as pirates went.

“Well then, mister doctor, where’s your office?”

“A-ah! I don’t have a real office yet. We’ve been using the bathroom.”

“Then lead the way.”

The doctor, Tony Tony Chopper, guided her down to the bathroom. The Caravel was small without being cramped. Nao took off her boots and pants, now stained with blood, so he could clean and stitch her leg. He treated her smaller scrapes and bruises as well, and stuck bandaids across her cuts.

He left so she could clean herself properly, wash her hair and get the blood off of her. She watched the pink water wash down the drain and wondered where her crew was. What had happened to Elba, Talisa, Adrien and Pearl? Were Rize and Hinami still injured? Had the marine’s tended to their wounds? Tier had escaped into the sea before a blast from a marine flagship had sent them hurtling out of the little cove they’d been hiding in and beached their ship. Had she made it back to fishman island?

She needed to find out. She owed it to her crew after she had failed them all.

There was a knock on the door.

She cracked it open to find the blond man standing outside, holding a bundle of clothes in his arms. Her red hair dripped across her shoulders, but in a few minutes it would be dry and wildly curly again.

“I bought an extra outfit for Nami or Vivi, but now I see it was destiny that I have it ready for you!”

He had literal hearts in her eyes when he presented them to her.

Nao took them carefully. The clothes were lightweight and soft, so soft that they caught on the sword-callouses on her fingers.

“Thank you?” Her clothes weren’t ruined, by any means. Did she really need a new outfit?

“If you need any help changing I-”

She shut the door on his face. “Nope.”

They definitely didn’t recognize her. No one who did was stupid enough to flirt with her. Her dad would kill them.

Nao changed into the clothes and was disappointed to find that they were dancers clothes.

Yeah. No.

She couldn’t fight in that!

Instead she cleaned her pants as best as she could, used a small sewing kit she kept in her cape to fix the cut in them, and redressed.

She'll have to find a hair tie eventually.

When she came back up to deck the other man they’d run into was crouched on the outer rail. With his back partially to her while he chatted with someone else Nao caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his back.

It was familiar, too. He nodded to Nao when she came to stand beside the green haired man. Solo?

Most of his attention was on Luffy, not her.

“Luffy. Will you come join the Whitebeard Pirate Crew? With your friends, too, of course.”

Whitebeard pirates. Whitebeard. Edward Newgate.

Nao could feel a headache starting to throb behind her eyes.

“No way!”

The man laughed. “Just thought I'd ask! Whitebeard is the greatest pirate I've ever known. I want to make him the pirate king. Not you, Luffy.”

Nao internally winced. Brutal. They were obviously close. Childhood friends?

“That's okay! I'll just fight him.”

Nao blinked at Luffy’s back. Was he stupid? Or just crazy?

Either way, Nao liked him.

She couldn’t start her hunt for her crew yet. She didn’t know how long she was trapped, and she didn’t know where everyone had gone. She also wasn’t in any shape to go rushing off and finding out. Her mother would have killed her for doing something as impulsive as grabbing the nearest Marine and demanding to know where her crew had been taken. And her dad…

Her heart twisted in her chest. Nao shook her head. She wouldn't let herself have a breakdown yet. Not here. Not yet.

“Hey, Luffy.”

He turned his head to look at her. Nao offered him a half bow. “Sorry but, I’m going to have to take advantage of your hospitality for now. Until I can get in contact with my own crew.”

Luffy shot her cheerful grin. “Sure, okay. You can hang out with us for a while.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” the blue girl stepped forwards. Nao really needed to figure out everyone’s names. She only knew Luffy and Chopper. “We’re not here for tourism. Where we’ll be going is bound to be dangerous.”

Nao cocked her head. Yeah. “I appreciate you worrying. But I’m a pirate as much as anyone else. I won’t change my mind just because it’s dangerous.”

Besides, they were going to Yuba, where Nao was supposed to meet with her crew.

Molly should have already gotten there and set up shop.

“Wait for us, Moll. We’ll get there, even if it takes a while.”

Molly pursed her black-painted lips. “I don’t like it, captain. This splitting up stuff. You already sent Harry and Monty back to Zou. We’re stronger together.”

“I know we are. But with dad-”

“Don’t worry,” Nao looked the girl in the eye and lay her hand on Odenta’s hilt. “I won’t ask any of you to be responsible for me.”

“I am my own captain, after all.”

#one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #monkey d. luffy #original character #one piece strawhats #straw hat luffy #straw hat pirates

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justfangstvdto · 3 years

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Open Coffin 2 | Chapter 04 “Word travels fast among the Damned”

Disclaimer: This is a sequel! Find Part 1 here. For some context, I´d advise you to watch The Originals to understand some occurrences.

Chapter warnings: typical TO violence and fighting, a dash of ptsd, glimpse into messed up childhood, oh and some new spells and practices, also this took so extremely long so please feel free to wait until more chapter are here

Word count: 6664

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is my lifeblood and keeps the writing coming (eventually...lol)

Your name: submit What is this?

At certain times in life, there is this premonition, a sense of knowing that something is coming. It is felt in the air in every passing breeze, and there is nothing one can do to stop it. It blows from the environment to throw its opponent off balance. Could be a monster with sharp claws, a bullet, a virus or bacteria. Or, in your case, a wooden and deadly staff handled with ancient vampire strength.

The attack came from the left side, poignant and with precision. The wood colliding with the carved stick in your hands send vibrations through your arms, that travelled to your shoulders. Strike blocked. Another attack came swiftly, this time from below in an upwards angle calculated just right to throw you off balance. Blocked again. You could see it in Mikael´s face; he was growing frustrated by every passing round of attack. He threw his weight behind his next attack, that edged closer to your face. Pain erupted from the point of impact as it sliced through the skin just above your cheekbone. Mikael doubled up again and brought the staff to your knees, swiftly knocking you off balance. You fell backwards like a sack of wood but caught yourself midair before landing on your stomach.

He's good.

He forced you down with the edge of the staff, burying your face in the dirt. He could kill you with a push of his weight, but he relented. You heard his feet cracking the ground beneath him as he turned his back and walked away as the champion.

Or so he thought.

You pushed yourself up with your dirt-covered hands, using your vampire speed and the element of surprise to your advantage. Holding the staff in a horizontal line, you went after him. He let out a huffed gurgle when you pulled back on the wood you pressured against his neck, pulling him against your torso. Mikael reacted swiftly and brought his weight forward to overthrow your chokehold like a bull trying to buckle of its rider. You let yourself fall over his back with your hand around the staff, nearing the ground with your backside, only to switch to your front as you easily grasped the staff out if his hands. Swiftly and without hesitation you plunged the staff into his face before you brought it down to his feet to trip him over. He landed into the dirt as you did before, face red with anger.

“I told Klaus already," You said, pointing the end towards his heart, while the Mikaelson family runic crest buried itself into the flesh of your hands "never turn your back on a Salvatore. Especially not me. ”

He was hurt in his pride, that much was evident, but there was a glimmer of surprise in his eyes that made you proud. You've beaten the vampire that hunts vampires. Granted, he had lost his touch over the years on the other side, but he still had centuries on you. It was a cause for celebration, or at least it was something to hold over him if you needed to.

Mikael scrambled to his feet, dusting off his dirt-covered clothes tainting the afternoon sun with dust particles "You fight well.“

"That's what happens when you grow up with two brothers that constantly had to one-up each other. You learn to fight if you're the one in the middle.” You said, sparing a thought to how you´d find Stefan and Damon in front of your house, fighting each other with their bare hands or loose wood from the barn a few ways down from the front door. You would always see them through the smudged window in the housekeeping room where your mother used to teach you what a girl should learn to become a proper woman. But you never cared for it. Instead, you would run outside your dress dragging in the dirt as you pushed your brothers apart even onto the dirt if you had to.

You pushed that memory aside, and you bend over to grab the staff on the floor, your fingers gliding over the ornate wood once more “The crest.” You continued “What does it mean?”

Mikael seemed surprised by your interest, even if it was covered with a loud sigh of contentment. Yet, he complied and drew the crest in the dirt beneath him “Long ago this was the Norse alphabet rune “Gebu”. It´s meaning varied from spear to gift but has been used to refer to Odin's spear Gungnir. It was believed that it had been given to Odin by Loki and is known for always hitting its mark, no matter the obstacle.”

“Always hitting bullseye no matter what? Yeah, that describes your family pretty well.” You shared a quick look with him before you turned away, heading for the cabin. You always wondered if Mikael missed his northern home - his true north so to speak- or if rage consumed him entirely without leaving a trace of the Wikingr he once was. And if the same thing will happen to you if the seething anger you developed over the last 3 years, triumphs over your sanity. Only time and its unrelenting grasp knew.

Glancing into the window beside the door you stopped to check your phone that was still outside since last night. You turned it over and unlocked it with a click, groaning when you saw the notification. Twenty-eight missed calls. Most of them were Klaus, a few from Marcel and then…

No way.

Stefan's name glared at you through the screen and with it a little icon next to him. He left a voicemail. What gravely thing had to occur for him to call you after years of silence? Did Mystic Fall finally burn down to ashes? Perhaps someone scarier than Klaus rolled into town and he just needed help? Whatever it was, the feeling of impending doom lingered in the air when you locked your phone and left it on the table outside. There was no time to linger in what-if scenarios.

No unnecessary attachments. No distractions - That's how you get things done.

Opening the cabin door a swift of charcoaled sage penetrated your senses, pungent with every step you took. Kaleb stood near a table, an unbuttoned shirt hugging his frame as if he was about to embark on a tropical cruise. He had the table decked out in front of him with elongated squares of stone which looked like they were engraved with runic symbols.

You closed the door behind you, the remnant of your late-night drinking session from the night before, collided together with the door´s vibration against the brittle wood. Last night you sparsely told Kaleb why you brought Mikael back, but your conversation quickly dissolved to more than just small talk. The alcohol loosened your tongue to a comfortable degree. It was strange to be unburdened by the fear of judgment. There wasn't any lasting damage that you had to fear, nothing you had to be ashamed of when looking him in the eyes and nothing you had to live with forever. Maybe the prospect of dying and not be burdened by anything that lasted had its advantages after all. It was easier at least.

When you stepped further into the room, Kaleb looked up from the bowl he had in his hand. Passing him, you discarded the sheer jacket that was stained with the particles of your meeting with the dirt floor outside. You flipped open the cooler filled with the blood bags, taking inventory of how many remained. Two. Great. Hunger was plaguing you more than it ever had. The cooler was full yesterday.

You jumped when Kaleb’s fingers gently wrapped when he turned your shoulder towards him to inspect the damage that had already healed, the only reminder of it a sheer layer of red. You pushed his hand away, regretting your action within a second after witnessing the guilty look on his face.

He shuffled back to where he was standing previously and cleared his throat before he spoke: “I don't think sparring with him is a good idea.”

“What, do you think he'd kill me? I´m a dead vamp walking no matter what, so who cares?”

“Don't you mean an undead dead vampire?” He joked before his face contorted into a questioning gaze “Wait…” He laughed. When you returned his laughter with a chuckle, he seemed proud, face beaming with a sense of accomplishment.

So he likes to make people laugh. Noted.

Kalebs gaze lingered for another moment, then he glanced out of the window to watch Mikael train with nothing but the wind as his opponent." You´ve told me how you brought him back, but not why." He continued, a worried tone now coating his voice "I assume it is more than just as a sparring partner?"

You shook your head “You should know as little as possible. They will come after you if they find out you know something. ”

“You're still not the trusting sort.” He noted, “And I thought we've bonded.”

The truth was you had bonded to a certain degree, and you were wary of the developing attachment.

“Well, do you trust me?” You questioned.

“Are you slicked? Those sad eyes might fool some people, but not me. I know what you're after.” Stoic and calculated he stared you down before his mouth contorted into a lighthearted smile “You've got a lecherous heart, Y/N! I won't be used, not for my body, nor my magic!”

You turned your head to hide a smile, but he caught on and lid up with pride. "Speaking of magic.” You nodded towards the table next to him “How's all this supposed to work anyway?"

“This-” He stepped closer, pointing with his fingers to the runes surrounded by a salt and ash circle “Is an ancient runic foretelling. Like a, uh, prophecy.”

“So like a fancy version of tarot cards?” You said bluntly, “How is that gonna help?”

“Depending on what runes appear, we will have a vague indication of what's causing the bleeding; Spell, curse, your vampire body rejecting magic… whatever it may be. If we know what it is, we can reverse it. “

You looked at him and wondered how someone like him came across a spell this old and what atrocities he had to commit to get a hold of it. Magic like this was not given out to anybody without affiliating to one of the more eclectic covens. You should know, that's what you´ve been doing for the past years.

You were about to litter him with questions, but the opening of the screeching cabin door made you pause, and all questions washed away.

“What have we here?" Mikael said from the doorway before stepping closer to examine Kaleb’s spell. " I have not seen this kind of magic in centuries.“ He looked at him with questioning eyes, observing his reaction as an indication as to end him or not. “How did you come to this knowledge?”

“Well, I've read a lot. You pick up a few things over the years.” He shrugged, and it was clear he had no intention of answering any questions “For example, this is based on a Viking age foretelling where they cut off a branch and sliced it into strips and marked them with different signs and threw them at random onto a cloth. Whatever stripes they picked up was the works of the gods. This is just a more definitive version.”

“Sounds easy enough. What do you need me to do?”

“I just need your blood” Kaleb replied.

Ah, blood. The ingredient that was most dangerous in combination with magic. It was used for curses, binding spells and all sorts of nasty spells. Could you say you trusted someone you barely know with an ingredient like this? No. But Shank´s research from two days ago was fruitless besides revealing Kaleb's last name, so you had nothing to go on but your gut feeling.

You bit into the thick flesh of your hand, and your blood pooled in your palm, ready to be used “Where do you want it?”

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The minutes dragged on with slow intent, waiting for them to die and move on to the next. The spell brewed, Mikael had left to an adjoining back room to rest and prepare for an uncomfortable fight he claimed to feel in the air. One would write off this premonition as ramblings of a crazy old man, but you can feel it too. Eyes somewhere distant, watching your every move. Claws ready to rupture skin. The question was, whose claws would draw blood first. The list of people that want to execute lethal force upon you had gotten embarrassingly long over the years, and guessing who was on top of that list equals a horse race with bets running high at all times.

You used the waiting time and tried to decode the unlinking spell you had been working on for the last year. But the advanced incantations and spellwork scribbled on the dusty pages were more than you were capable of understanding. Still, you had to try. Not to kill Klaus, but to ensure your brothers and everyone in his sire line was safe if his enemies decide to multiply further. Knowing Klaus, he will trample on everyone's sandcastle like a toddler to prove his point and make enemies out of everyone if he had to.

You glanced over to where Kaleb was chanting with his eyes closed, entirely concentrated on the whispered spell that´s supposed to reveal what the hell was wrong with you. You´ve been trying to find that out for centuries, so you did not hold out hope for a spell like this to work.

Out of nowhere, your senses alerted you of a rustle in the bushes, very soft steps were coming from behind. So faint, it was almost mistakable as the wind. Your ears twitched. Two-legged. Not an animal then.

Kaleb picked up on the sudden change of stature and paused the chanting and shared a look of alertness. "You think it's him? The original?”

“Probably. Or about a thousand other people that want me dead, take your pick. You know of all the places to die this didn't make my list. Where is the blaze of glory and a badass backing track?”

Stepping outside into the cooling night air you kept your eyes on the treeline beyond where the sound came from, but it was clear without sparing too many seconds that there was only one person who would chase you here despite all spoken cautions. And that one wouldn't hide in the bushes. He would instead break a window in or kick the door down rather than hide like some common thief. So why was he silent? Something wasn't right.

"Hey, I'll get some wood for the stove." You stated at high volume, masking your approach to whoever was out there. Wrapping your hands around the axe that penetrated a tree stump, you stepped into the open.

The rustling sound of bushes was persistent, dominating over the deafening sound of crickets near the body of water down the way. They moved from the left to the right, your eyes impulsively trained to pinpoint their movement.

He watched as you disappeared into the bushes, only to appear seconds later, dragging someone behind you in the dirt.

“Got him,” You said, hurling the unconscious stranger over your shoulder.

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Minutes easily passed waiting for the stranger to wake from his scare. But he had no intention of cutting the wait short. His head was hanging low, almost touching his knees. Softly breathing he sat there, while you waited for any sign of movement.

“How is he still unconscious?” You sighed.

"You gave him quite the scare, I'm sure."

"To be fair, that guy looks like he would be scared by a kitten." You said, eying him with pity "I think a nice wakeup call is in order."

"What are you thinking? Fire?" Kaleb chimed in.

"You do know all of this is made out of wood, right?" You asked, pointing on the wooden interiors.

"Don't tell me you don't like to set things ablaze."

"I'm not one for setting anything on fire these days." You muttered, pushing the rush of guilt that enveloped you down where it belonged. Only thinking about the smell of fire, the embers that sprinkle into the air and the blasting heat that melted skin from bones, was enough to wish that you could dig a hole and be swallowed into the earth without abandon.

But there was no time for it now. Perhaps there never will be.

"You know let's not go the magic route." You continued "Sometimes all you need is a good slap in the face to get the day started."

"Sure, who needs caffeine if a slap in the face will do." Kaleb chuckled.

You closed in on the stranger and slapped him in the face with gusto, stirring him awake like an unexpected thunder. Realisation dawned on him when he blinked through his tired eyelids and saw your face

“Oh shit, you're Y/N.” He tried to make a run for the door, but you pushed him back where he came from “Oh God, I'm so dead.”

“See?" You looked over your shoulder gesturing your hands toward the tied up stranger "That is how they usually react. With fear. Not all cocky and all-knowing like you were.”

“Well, I find your intimidation charming.” Kaleb grinned.

"Sure, because me being scary is such an admirable quality."

"You know numerous ways to kill a man. It's hot." He shrugged unapologetically.

“Uh... "The stranger uttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "You know I´m still here, right? Not that I don't condone this flirting but-”

"I'm not flirting." You defended adamantly.

"Maybe. But he is, clearly not successfully.” The stranger let out a chuckle and immediately regretted it by the way Kalebs face delved into anger.

Was that how people saw your early partnership with Kaleb? Did they assume you'd just fall into the arms of somebody else that quickly? If a stranger saw it, everyone else would too. You could already hear them talk behind your back, laughing at your broken promises and weak composure. What if those rumors were the only thing Kol would hear when he'd walk the earth again when you were dead and gone? You could not are the thought. However useful Kaleb was maybe you had to get rid of him after all.

“Listen," You continued "If you tell me who sent you, I might let you live. Spoiler alert, probably not.”

"He said to look out for any sign of trouble, that's it. I'm- I don't want any trouble.”

“Who sent you. I want a name.” You asked again, all the while trying to think of who would send an amateur like him after you. These days everyone knew that he'd be gutted if he crossed your path.

Following his continued silence you lowered yourself to his seated level, and with your fingers grazing his clothed chest you said “I wonder if you´ve ever had your chest opened before? Or do you prefer something more magical like boiling from the inside? I don't have much time to spare. So If you don´t talk, you´ll find out.”

“Marcel, okay?!”The stranger spoke with hurry, “He was worried about you hanging out with this guy.” He nodded towards the door. You looked over your shoulder where Kaleb rolled his eyes so hard you swore they'd pop out any second. Eying the stranger again you took notice of his swooped dark hair, overly nervous yet intrigued inquisitive nature and his questionable taste in overly printed dress shirts. It dawned on you that this must be Marcel's friend he had been talking about endlessly.

“Oh, you're his buddy. Josh!” You retreated your hand from his chest and stepped out of his personal space “Sorry for the well, unwelcoming welcome.”

"Yeah, it's becoming kind of a thing with everyone that hangs out with Count Dracula."

You grimaced at his words. "Do I look like I hang out with Klaus in my free time?"

Josh considered for a moment, then shook his head "Yeah… probably not. From what I've heard you're more the stabbing him in the back type." His face fell when you raised an eyebrow and he added "Not that he didn't deserve it."

Ah, that word again. Deserve. Nobody deserves anything. Often neither happiness nor grievances come to those who truly deserve them. It comes to those who consume them if they're entitled to them or not. The ones that persevere and push themselves up by kneeling others into the dirt. Those are the ones that take the good parts while the ones that truly deserve it shoulder the rest. That's the way of the world. Especially the supernatural one. And Klaus was both kneeling in the dirt and pushing others in it. You were unsure if he truly deserved what failed assassination attempt you brought upon him. You were not so sure you were worthy of being the judge, jury and executioner all on your own. Not anymore, and you had no idea if that was a good or bad thing.

“So uh.” Josh looked around the room awkwardly, an unspoken question written over his face. It was nothing new, they all had one if they dared to speak it out loud.

“Ask what you want to ask.” You sighed.

“The stories about you. Are they true?” He asked. Kaleb was interested too as his head snapped towards you in interest

“Most of them.” You shrugged as you leaned against the table's edge behind you. You're not really in the mood to play interview with a vampire "And I think the worst is yet to come so better hurry back and tell Marcel to call off his protectors. I can handle myself. ”

“Yeah, I'd say. You're scary.” Josh headed for the door and dipped to the right only to appear a second later “Uh, I have no idea where I am. "

“I assume you left your car near the church?” You asked and Josh nodded “It's about 20 miles northeast from here. Cell service is fickle, so just follow the trodden path.”

"North East. Yeah right okay." He turned on his heels and headed outside again looking left and right to determine where to go.

"That way." You pointed in the right direction and he thanked you with a round of finger gun before he disappeared. How Marcel has not gotten rid of him yet was beyond you.

“Why does everybody keep saying that?" You returned to Kaleb side "Am I that scary?”

“Terrifying. In the best way.” He smiled and his gaze drifted to the floor before snapping back to your face. There was an intensity in his stare, unwavering and unrelenting in a way that kept your focus longer than it should have.

When Kaleb's fingers drifted over your hand his breath hitched and grew still, and you had no intention of moving away. His calloused fingers grazed over your skin and had it not been for the immortal-ish aspects of you, your hands would be as callused, if not worse.

When you slowly lifted your head to look at him he was so focused on his hand on yours that he did not seem to notice your shifted gaze. Your eyes drifted over his shadowed face, trying to pinpoint what about him it was that kept your attention. There was something familiar about him. The way he held himself, this unwavering confidence and charm that revelled in his authenticity. Perhaps you've met him before when grief had its hold on you, or during one of the anger engulfed moments or perhaps just passed by him on the streets.

He felt familiar in a way that was comforting. Like a song you heard in passing that resurfaced with questionable intention and you´re left wondering why it felt as if you´ve heard it before. He felt like bonding on public transport travelling with the same people day in and day out, only to miss them when they take a different route. Or the passing by someone on the streets wondering if it was a ghost of the past or someone that's just bearing a similar face.

Reality hit soon after your wondering thought and unwavering guilt crushed you under its weight. You drew your hand away and Kaleb jumped at your sudden movement.

Get a grip. What the fuck are you doing?

No attachments. No distractions.

“So, uh... “You cleared your throat, putting some distance between you. “The rune thing. You find anything?”

“Let´s see.” He burdened a smile and returned to the table to find that etched lines have appeared on the bare stone tablets.

“Interesting. These two are next to each other, almost connecting."He said, pointing at the first two stones. The first one symbolises strength. You're bound to an unmatched power, yet no that can't be right.”

“What is it?”

“This rune," He said and pointed to the second one "It symbolises power but as an outside force. You´re not tied to your own power."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"You're bound to something powerful and that power depletes your own when it is being used. Like a battery of sorts."

"Too much power for me to handle, huh? Explains the nosebleeds, I guess. But what is it?"

"Whatever it is it's unlike anything I've seen." Kaleb's further words drifted out of focus when a shower of calculated noises drenched the room. There was someone outside yet again.

You interrupted his foretelling, holding a finger to your lips "We have another visitor. Stay here and don't come out."

Kaleb reached for your upper arm when you turned away from him and said "Don't go out there."

You snapped out of his grasp swiftly glaring at him as you said; "You don't tell me what to do." It was a low blow, sure, but perhaps he would keep his distance or disappear before things got even more complicated. Perhaps acting like this will cast him away.

Turning the corner on the far side of the cabin you were met with a suave demeanour full of torment and rage and a newly found hopelessness you had yet to pinpoint its location.

“Oh good, you're here. Want a drink?” You offered a swig of the bottle on the table outside.

“I'm in no mood to socialize,” Klaus declined sternly, the darkness parting for his body as he stepped onto the splintering wooden walkway.

“When are you ever?" You deadpanned, but Klaus was far from being amused. You tried to lighten the mood, but it was of no use. He was furious. No doubt Esther or her bootlicker of a son spilt the beans about the white oak. Handling matters delicately was never their strong suit.

"I can tell by the look on your face that you're here to kill me.” You said, trying to soothe the oncoming onslaught of judgement that was heading your way “I assume I deserve it, but can you tell me why this time? Just so I can keep track. ”

Klaus dragged his tongue over his parsed lips letting out a pitiful hushed laugh before he sat next to you, staring ahead. “I was simply minding my own business - ruling, killing my enemies and what not - and low and behold what do I hear? The white oak stake has resurfaced in the hands of my mother. My my, word does travel fast among the damned, now doesn't it?“

“Well, I'm sorry the world isn't arranging itself for your schedule.” You peered back at his expectant face. Anger was flaring through your blood, an amplified sensation whenever Klaus was near. “But I don't see why this is my problem?”

“Don´t be coy with me. This has your name written all over. Disruption the order of long-established rules of battle for your twisted little schemes." He trickled his fingers against the wind as if he was holding strings attached to a marionette to control at his will. No doubt, he viewed you as a puppeteer master these days. High praise indeed, especially coming from someone as wicked as him.

“I want to know why." His voice was quieter, soft almost, as he spoke into the wind "Why did you defy me when I gave you nothing but trust?” The way he stared holes in the floor uttering these words rattled a rush of guilt that you never expected to be directed at Klaus of all people. Klaus was confident with threats and violence, but bearing himself open was something he barely had the courage for.

“Let's not pretend that we trust each other just because we shared a sentimental moment. Once.”

“You know, I find it fascinating that you believe you are invincible to my wrath.” He continued harsher, covering his vulnerability “Our agreement has been made null and void by your actions, and you don't seem to care. More so you seem to enjoy it. Why is that?”

“You´re the master schemer here, tell me, what do you think I'm doing?” You leaned forward, eager to know what he had to say. No doubt he´d see right through the parts you wanted him to see. The question was if he had any idea beyond that. He was the mighty Klaus after all, and more so he was smart.

“I'd say you're playing both sides, though the recent events convinced me of something else entirely. You're bold, fearless; striking without weighing the consequences. Suspicious, isn't it? Unless you have the upper hand.” He turned his head again, observing your reaction like a hawk. “Is this charade your grand plan? Aiding my mother in her endeavors by handing over the only weapon that could kill my family? I must say, I'm not impressed.”

“You think that's the only part? Just another revenge fantasy? And here I thought you finally learned not to underestimate me.”

“It is because I do not underestimate you that I came here.” He said. It was high praise indeed coming from him, even if it came with a trickle of insult to be compared to the likes of the big bad Klaus.

“Good call, not sending Elijah then. He'd kill me just for ruining his shoes in this terrain. But if this is the only reason you came then you can go right back to your castle and rule your kingdom because Esther doesn't have the real white oak. It's s copy.”

Klaus cocked his head to the side, the lamps fire now perfectly reflecting in his eyes. The look of distrust was written over his face, yet there was no doubt that he was intrigued by the information you laid out.

“See? I´m not trying to play games here. I give you my word.” You added with the hope that at least your word had not lost its ´s value when everything else had.

He paused, dragging his tongue over his bottom lips swiftly, weighing his responses. “Your word means nothing until you live up to it.” You nodded, a silent promise you had no idea if you could uphold. Who were you kidding, of course, there wasn’t any way you would not place his head on the chopping block if it came to it. This whole thing was nothing but polite stakeouts as a way to keep up with the other´s schemes. Problem was, Klaus would offer you up just the same without blinking.

The old Klaus anyway.

If you would listen to the things circulating about him as of late, you'd think he had lost his old tyrannic ways. Found some way to soothe his grudge with the world and became a better person. It was laughable. People don´t change, you found that they mask themselves, sculpting a new life out what the fires left behind. They don´t change, they overpaint. And it was time that the ones whispering about Klaus alleged newly-found compassion, learned that lesson too or they´d head for disappointment. Either way, they'd wake up.

Shuffling from inside averted your attention to the cabin where Mikael and Kaleb were still hidden. Klaus' interest was peaked when your eyes slanted over to the side and remained there for a moment.

“What is it?” He questioned.

You forced your eyes forward, despite the impending doom running through your veins. “Thought I heard something. Probably just an animal somewhere. Or someone who wants to kill me. Take your guess. These days I'm almost as unpopular as you.” You laughed, quickly glancing through the window again.

Klaus followed your gaze again but saw nothing but an empty cabin. He turned and walked across the porch to look into the other window and although he could not see anything, Mikael was inside with his hands around Kaleb´s throat demanding him to grant his release from your boundary spell. Klaus knew that dealing with witches- even a half witch like you- did not mean that what was in front of your eyes was necessarily what was truly there.

“Well here's to living up to my promises.” You said as you made your way to the door. I guess I'll see you back in town, yeah?” You tried to get rid of him, but it was too late. Klaus' paranoia had already sounded the alarm in his head and snapped the door closed with a push of his hand.

"Who is with you?" His voice was dangerously low and calm, which only predicted the worst.

"No one. You know I don't do well in team scenarios." You waved him off. You had to get rid of him or this whole plan will go to hell. Plus your new friend in there would suffocate if kept fighting Mikael.

Without being aware, you took a step back on the brittle flooring denting it enough to let the staff that was still leaning near the door fall from his resting place. It rolled on the angled flooring right towards Klaus’ feet. At first, he glanced at it, but at the second look, his eyes grew wide. He'd recognize the bearing crest anywhere. Within the next heartbeat, he dragged his eyes from the floor and you were granted a look that put hellfire to shame.

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Your heartbeat beat so loudly it seemed to want to escape your chest, to flee the oncoming slaughter. You were not one to run, to hide and cower in fear. But this was different. Klaus knew you brought his hateful father back to life and he was right outside a spelt door, ready to burn this place down if he had to. There was no reprieve. You knew that the beating of your heart was numbered, counting down to your own demise.

You could´ve made him bleed, unconscious or writhe in pain, but it would not hold him down forever. Nothing could. So you headed for the door which gave you the luxury of a few more minutes before he would skin you alive. Distance was all that mattered, even if that distance was a brittle door that if not for the magic seal would break in two by the way Klaus was hammering against it.

“If you want to fight me, why are you running?” Klaus yelled and paraded on the porch like a lion in a cage that was ready to end his captors. You turned your back towards the rattling door, your attention now focused on Mikael who still had Kaleb in his grasp.

“Release me or I will end him!” Mikael said, his fingers digging into Kaleb´s neck, cutting off his air supply, ready to snap his neck like a twig if he had to.

You balled your hand to a fist forcing Mikael to his knees to bear the pain of your magic “You think you're in any position to make demands?” You shared a look with a heavy breathing Kaleb and he nodded while grasping his neck, signalling he was fine, though hurt in his pride.

“Enough games, Y/N!” You jumped at Klaus´s voice which invaded through the cracks in the walls. “Let's finish this. Is this not why you brought him for? I'm not afraid.”

You opened the door with a flick of your free hand while Mikael was kept in place with the other.

If you cannot fight them on your own, let them fight each other.

There you stood between the devil and the deep blue sea, one decision worse than the next, one would bring hellfire while the other would leave you stranded on the bottom of the ocean. There was- without a doubt- no silver lining at the crossroads you arrived at. If you released Mikael and held up your end of the bargain Mikael would slay Klaus and with him his entire line. Your brothers would die. You would die sooner than expected and thousands of vampires would die by your hand. Your chance of getting Kol his life back would slip through your hands like sand in an hourglass.

However letting Klaus in to fight his father would either result in the same outcome or he'd kill Mikael and with it every bargaining chip - and if necessary threat- you had hidden in your hold. Either way, you were backed into a corner, and an animal in a corner always fought back.

You took a breath that was loaded with thought. The men in the room picked up on your hesitation and Klaus was the first that dared to speak. “Let him go. I can't wait to stand over his burning corpse. Only this time, I intend to enjoy it more. ”

He knew what was on the line for you if you let them fight. He knew. And something in his face told of nothing but victory. So you let them go and chase each other to death. Hatred was useful in a fight and Klaus had more than anyone. He will win. He had to.

Right?

Kaleb watched from behind as you drew the curtain open to and surely enough there in the distance, beyond the scarce line of trees you saw them fight. They managed to disrupt each of their blows but even from afar you saw Mikael had the upper hand. He kicked Klaus onto the ground and knocked him flat on his back towering over him.

"And you're going storm after them right about…" Kaleb counted on his wrist as if checking an imaginary clock. Now."

You shot him a glare with the doorknob already in your grasp. You exited with Kaleb only a few steps behind. You were already vamp speeding away when Kaleb collided with the boundary spell

"Of course." He sighed and took in the room he was now trapped in "I guess it's time to set this thing on fire."

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A/N: I know it has been....months. 2020 y´all. Shit´s crazy. In all seriousness, my life did a 360 this year - as it did with everyone- so please excuse my absolute snail speed with writing these days.But thank you to everyone that´s here right now at the end of yet another chapter. Please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

Also I was proud of my little sneak sentence when she talks about Klaus being hopeless. Because you know, he´s without Hope. I rather liked that.

Open Coffin Series Taglist: (message me if you want on or off this list!)

@shadyladyperfection @akshi8278 @thegoddessofvampire @newurleans @originalbish98 @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @cherryblossomllama @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14 @5-seconds-of-animals @the-geeky-engineer @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @givemesomehybrid @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @free-the-fangirl @clockworkballerina @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474 @pacifyprincessxo @mustachio1616 @thealyana @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @lunna-star-8 @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @elenavaldez02 @lilulo-12 @selmasemlan @thelostallycat @characterobsessed @cococola-cocaine @crazyinternetgirl @codenamewitcher @-thatgirloverthere- @alwxadria345 @trymexo @mizzezm @willieshakesqueer @spunky-89 @putyourherohaironstefan @xxdragonagequeenxx @thegingerthatwaited @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @hinata7346 @controloffandoms @sabrielflowers

#kol mikaelson #the originals #the originals imagine #kol mikaelson imagine #the originals fanfic #open coffin

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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years

Text

The Other Side of Me - Chapter 2

Darkwing Duck Fanfiction (90s Series)

The Negaverse Launchpad arrives in Saint Canard and announces his intention to take down Darkwing Duck in preparation for Negaduck’s arrival. Darkwing refuses to take the threat seriously, so Launchpad decides to take on his stronger, crazier, and downright dangerous counterpart himself.

Read Chapter 1 first.

***

“LP! How many times… open the garage door before you try and park inside.” Drake stood at their front door, hands on his hips.

Launchpad tumbled out of the car. He’d barely tapped the garage, so he ignored the comment. “We’ve got a problem. A DW problem.”

Drake’s scowl deepened as his gaze shifted from the car and onto Launchpad. “What happened to you?”

“Like I said, DW problem.”

“You went to get groceries. What did you get mugged? I should hope Darkwing’s sidekick could deal with that.”

“I did. Well, sort of.”

Drake’s gaze softened. “LP…”

Launchpad grabbed Drake by the shirt sleeve and dragged him into the house. “Will you just listen to me? I got jumped in the car. By myself.”

“You were alone. But I’m guessing that bruise meant you dealt with it?”

“No, not by myself. I mean I got mugged by myself.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“By Launchpad from the Negaverse!”

***

Drake steered Launchpad into the dining room and made him sit down before he’d let him explain further. “So, Negaduck is still stuck in his dimension,” Launchpad finished. “But, er, Launchpad said he was coming after you, DW.”

“Well, I don’t like him already!” Gosalyn stood up on her chair and waved an arm at Launchpad. “He hit Launchpad in the face. I’ve got a good mind to give him what for.”

Launchpad smiled faintly. “Thanks for the backup, kiddo. But you should probably stay away from him.”

Gosalyn pounded a fist on the table. “I can take him! I mean, come on, Launchpad, he’s you.”

“Hey.”

“No, I just mean, I practically beat you at arm wrestling I know it takes a little to wear you out, but…”

Launchpad winced. “Yeah, about that.”

“Wait, have you been letting me win? Dad!”

Drake rubbed at his forehead. “Gos, he’s five times your size. You ‘win’ because he thinks you’re adorable. Somehow, I’m guessing this other Launchpad won’t.”

Gosalyn plonked herself back in her chair and folded her arms. “This is confusing. We should at least agree to call him jerkface Launchpad, because that’s what he is.”

“Works for me,” said Launchpad, “But we’ve got to do something. He’s been out there for hours now. Who knows what he’s been up to?”

“Probably crashed at least two different vehicles.”

Launchpad frowned. He could take the crash jokes. But Drake was far too calm. “This is serious!”

Drake held up his hands “Look, I know. And I get he probably freaked you out. But, you know, maybe Gos is right?”

“We’re going with jerkface?”

“No! I mean the threat you’re worried about, being, well, Launchpad. No offense buddy, but if you up and decided you wanted to take me out tomorrow, I wouldn’t be overly concerned. Unless we were flying somewhere.”

Launchpad huffed. “Well, he seemed pretty serious to me. And I seem to remember you saying he just about killed you within three minutes of you landing in the Negaverse.”

“Did he bring his rocket launcher with him?”

“What? I don’t think so.”

Drake shrugged. “There you go. He’s nothing to worry about.”

“What’s wrong with a rocket launcher?” Gosalyn asked.

“He used it in the house!”

Launchpad scowled. “I just want to make sure my best friend is safe. Launchpad was pretty clear; he said he’d put you at the bottom of the bay.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s not nothing. But it’s not like he’s Negaduck. Look, if he said he was going to find me and take me down, let’s go out on patrol tonight and see if he makes a move. Besides, Gos is right about something else, he is a jerkface. Pick on my sidekick, will he? Darkwing Duck will happily send him back where he came from!”

Launchpad felt some of his apprehension lift. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe Darkwing Dark had not only taken him on as his sidekick but had been such a good friend to him. It was good to know he had his back. “Thanks, DW. And don’t worry, I won’t let you out of my sight.”

****

In this Saint Canard, Launchpad’s old hanger still stood. Not his, Launchpad had to remind himself as he swallowed the stubborn lump in his throat. That idiot McQuack’s. Still, the place was almost as dilapidated as his had been. Launchpad pushed open one of the big double doors. It creaked, and dust fell from the ceiling. Dusty grey tarpaulins were spread over the aeroplanes stashed inside.

One of the shapes caught his eye. Launchpad stepped over and, grasping the corner of tarp draped over a wing, tugged it quickly aside. He drew in a quick breath and squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Steady, Launchpad. You’re getting distracted.”

He was not here because of nostalgia. He would only use the air going beasts hidden beneath those tarps if it fell in with the plan that clumsily built in his head. But it was hard, far harder than he was happy with, for him to walk away. The lure of his first love was strong.

The flames licking and crackling and tearing into the timber rose unbidden in his mind. Metal and canvas skins peeled away from the steel and timber frames. Tortured metal screamed and rivets popped, like his aeroplanes had been crying out to him. And Launchpad had just stood there, with an empty petrol can clamped in a hand which had taken every ounce of his willpower to stop from shaking. Meanwhile, Negaduck had stood beside him, laughing as the flames rose ever higher.

Launchpad ran a hand over the wing again. He turned away with a snort. His inspection of the hanger turned up a woefully inadequate stash of weapons. Besides some heavy tools, all he found was a rusty handgun which looked like it hadn’t been fired, far less cared for, in years. “How am I supposed to pull this off without a good rocket launcher?”

He gave up on the hanger proper and climbed the ladder into the loft. It looked like Launchpad had slept and ate up here. But the stripped bed, and the desk parked in one corner, was covered in dust. Launchpad’s lip curled up in a snarl. Darkwing had not made his sidekick destroy this place. But McQuack had quite obviously not returned in a very long time.

He checked under the mattress. He found a large wrench, but still no decent weapons. He moved over to the desk and yanked at a drawer. The old wood stuck with a squeak, and Launchpad gave it another sharp tug. The drawer’s contents spilled across the floor.

Still no weapons. But a flash of colour caught his eyes. Launchpad knelt and picked up the photograph. His mother, father, and sister grinned back at him. They looked happy. Alongside the other Launchpad.

Launchpad couldn’t remember seeing his family, in print or otherwise, for a very, very long time. But this wasn’t his family. And it had been so carelessly discarded in this drawer. Just like the hanger.

Launchpad tore the photograph to shreds.

***

“Threading the Thunderquack treacherously through towers, Darkwing Duck searches for the dubious doppelganger, the derelict delinquent determined to do in our do-gooder hero.” Darkwing swished his cape about the cockpit, and then leapt back into the passenger seat and glared sidelong at Launchpad. “What he doesn’t understand is why someone insisted we take the Thunderquack in the first place.”

“We’ll cover more ground this way.”

“Oh yeah? Well Darkwing Duck strongly suspects his sneaky sidekick simply wanted to drive.”

Launchpad made a show of looking out his side of the cockpit at the streets below, though he was only trying to hide the faint flush he felt come to his beak. Busted. It was easier being the one at the controls of their transport of choice. If he got an idea as to where jerkface Launchpad was hiding out, he could just fly them straight there without having to ask for Darkwing’s permission. Apologising after the fact was far easier.

Darkwing slumped back in his seat with a huff. “Well, at least this gets us out of the house. Gosalyn’s cartoons were starting to get on my nerves. I swear, she turns up the volume on that television every time I leave the room.”

“I think I’d rather be making soup.”

“I’ll survive without your soup, LP. In fact, I think avoiding it might actually increase my chances.”

Launchpad swung the Thunderquack around another building, rocking the plane so they could keep an eye on the streets below. Darkwing gripped his seat a little tighter.

“It’s not about the soup. Launchpad said he was coming after you. I’d rather not have to worry about that.”

“What are you now, my mother? Look, I appreciate it, really. But you don’t have to stress out about this. He’s been here less than a day. You think he’s going to, I don’t know, find a plane that can keep up with the Thunderquack in that time and run us out of the sky?”

“Um, DW?”

“Yeah, what… Launchpad!”

Launchpad lifted a wing and the roaring shape tore past just beneath them.

Darkwing leapt onto his seat and searched the sky. “What was that?!”

“Hard to say pelting past at 100 miles an hour but looked like a P51 Mustang.”

“Please tell me that does not come with a rocket launcher.”

Launchpad looped the Thunderquack back around. The plane that had nearly knocked them out of the sky hadn’t been running any lights. He couldn’t see where their assailant had gone.

“Where is he?” said Darkwing. “Great. I’m up here with two of you.”

“We don’t know it’s Launchpad yet.”

“Who else flies like that?! Seriously, why did you have to insist on taking the Thunderquack?”

Launchpad huffed. Here was the downside of being the one in control of where they were going. He had to put up with Darkwing’s backseat driving. “Fine. I’ll take us lower.” He dropped the Thunderquack, hard. The wheels hit the pavement and they bounced.

“If you’re going to fly like this then we may as well have taken the Ratcatcher.”

The Mustang dropped in at 5 o’clock. It followed behind them, just clear of the pavement, and slowly gained. Launchpad looked back over his shoulder. “Where did he get a Mustang?”

“Launchpad, concentrate on you’re flying, driving, whatever you’re doing!”

A car horn blared. Launchpad swerved clear of the oncoming headlights. “Okay, okay, so jerkface is a pilot too?” His eyes narrowed.

“What’s that look? Oh, wonderful…”

Launchpad spotted a parked flatbed truck, its tray tipped up so it practically formed a ramp. He accelerated. They hit the makeshift ramp and rocketed back into the air. He looped up and around a building and then levelled out just clear of Saint Canard’s skyscrapers. The Mustang was still on his right, but now it’s wing was level with, and nearly touched the Thunderquack’s. The single pilot dogfighter was not in good condition. The propeller spluttered. The canopy had been ripped clean off. And the Negaverse Launchpad was crammed into that tiny cockpit, a maniac grin on his face.

Launchpad frowned. “Hey, wait! That looks just like the one I had in my hanger…”

His double swung in and rammed the Thunderquack. The wings collided and grated, and the Mustang’s gave in. Metal peeled off and wrapped itself around the Thunderquack’s wing. Launchpad grappled with the steering as the drag picked up.

“Oh man…”

“Fly the plane, LP!”

“I’m flying two planes here. We need to lose the drag.”

The Negaverse Launchpad vacated the Mustang’s cockpit. His hair whipped about his face as he climbed onto the buckled wing. He steadily gained ground as he pulled himself arm over arm along the entangled metal.

“I told you he was crazy.” Darkwing pulled his gas gun from his jacket.

“What are you going to do with that?”

“I thought you said we needed to lose the drag?”

“The other plane. You’ll kill him if you hit him with that this high.”

“Darn it, you’re right. Well, you’d better do something quick.”

Launchpad dipped them lower, back down between the buildings. And realised his mistake. The Thunderquack could easily weave its way between Saint Canard’s skyscrapers, despite Launchpad’s somewhat inattentive flying style. The Thunderquack with an extra six tonnes of metal and one crazed duck hanging from her wing was going to have a bit more trouble.

Launchpad wrested them hard left as a building loomed. It swung away from them. Slowly. Far too slowly. The Thunderquack cleared. Glass windows exploded. The Mustang was torn to shreds on impact. They swung out hard as the drag lifted, and it was all Launchpad could do to yank her back in before they slammed into the building opposite.

“DW! Where’s Launchpad?” He’d wanted to stop his counterpart hurting Darkwing Duck. Not kill him.

“Hang on, hang on… there he is, LP.” Darkwing pointed to the plummeting body.

The dread lifted. Launchpad chased his double towards the ground. “I’ve got this…” He popped the canopy, then looped them underneath the other Launchpad.

He was dead on target. Launchpad slammed into the open cockpit. Right on top of Darkwing. Both men tumbled into the back of the Thunderquack. The whole plane bounced and rocked, and Launchpad was thrown from his seat. The next few seconds were a blur of spinning buildings, asphalt, and blinking controls.

“Bloody hell. And people say I’m crazy.” The Negaverse Launchpad pulled himself into the pilot’s seat. He levelled the Thunderquack and pulled them up to a height where they were not getting honked at by passing motorists.

“DW?” Launchpad shook Darkwing by the shoulder.

“No mommy, five more minutes.” Out cold. But Darkwing Duck could take a fair whack. Launchpad propped him up in the rear seat as comfortably as he could manage.

“This handles really well. Heh. Better than that bucket of bolts. I’m not even sure how I got it off the ground on the first place. But this…” His double had a grin plastered to his face. His focus was out the windshield, on the buildings he was even now swooping in and around. Not that there was much reason to swing the plane about so much.

Except that Launchpad knew from experience, thought pointless, it was pretty fun. He moved cautiously to the front of the cockpit and slipped into the passenger seat. “Ah, yeah. I put her together myself. Just gave the steering a tune up, actually.”

The other Launchpad glanced across at him warily.

Launchpad put his hands in his lap, where his doppelganger could see them, and waited. The other man did not seem an immediate threat. He was no longer focused on Darkwing Duck, but instead on flying the Thunderquack. Which was not exactly ideal, and Launchpad was glad DW was unconscious, of he’d have a fit. But maybe they wouldn’t have to fight this guy.

The other Launchpad’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m a little disappointed actually,” he said as he steered them out to the clear air over the bay.

“In the Thunderquack? What’s wrong with her?”

“No. In you. I threw you down a challenge, man. And what do you do? Go straight crying to Darkwing Duck.”

“That wasn’t a challenge. You threatened him.”

“Same difference. Where’s your loyalty? You going to let some guy say stuff about your boss like that?”

Launchpad bristled. “Loyalty? That’s why I told DW, he’s my friend, and I’d do anything for him.”

“More like just cry to him so he’ll solve all your problems. You’re all talk… woah hang on…” Launchpad took them in low, right under the Audubon Bay bridge. That grin crawled back onto this face, and he laughed. “Oh yeah, baby.”

Launchpad could understand the thrill of flying. But this Launchpad was excited as a school kid. And flying his plane. It was all he could do to fight off the urge to make a snatch for the controls. Whatever the heck was actually happening here, he didn’t want to push it.

His double finished his swoop under the bridge cleanly. Almost too cleanly. Launchpad scowled. “Just don’t go and crash it now, alright?”

“Hey! I don’t crash.”

“What, never?”

“Never. Not that I’ve had the chance for a while.”

Launchpad swallowed. Great. This guy was a better pilot than him too. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Launchpad eyed him sidelong, then laughed. It sounded far crueller than the one from moments ago. “You are not serious.”

“Look, you’re me, sort of. I get it. You’re loyal to Negaduck. He’s your buddy, just like me and DW. He asked you to come over here and help him. But Negaduck’s not a nice guy. He’s already got a whole world to himself. What does he need this one for? You can’t destroy a place just to please him, and I won’t let you hurt DW to do it.”

His double lunged for him. Launchpad put up his fists. But the other Launchpad didn’t hit him. He yanked his arm back with Launchpad’s aviator’s cap clenched tightly in his fist. “I cannot take you seriously in this stupid thing!” He tossed it up into the corner of the console.

Then he blew out a deep breath. “Alright, Launchpad. Let me set you straight. Negaduck is my boss. Not my buddy. I don’t go crying to him for every little thing. I deal with shit myself. Even if, even if I don’t always do the best job. So, let me tell you about loyalty. I joined Negaduck. And I gave up everything. My hanger, flying my aeroplanes…”

“You… what?”

“I burnt it all to the ground!”

Launchpad felt his stomach knot up. He had destroyed a great deal of aeroplanes over the course of his career. But never on purpose.

“Yeah, that’s right. You know. We are the same, sort of. You know what that meant. I don’t make cute little speeches about how me and Negaduck are buddies. I’m a man of action. Being loyal to Negaduck means I’m done with all of that. I let it all go for him.” His hands gripped the control yoke, white knuckled, and his chest heaved. “And I… I haven’t looked back since.”

The Thunderquack droned through the sky, now circling high above Saint Canard. Launchpad did not normally fly her this high. They were usually working, darting amongst the buildings below in search of some criminal. “Really?” he finally said, fixing his gaze on the other Launchpad until he had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Because it doesn’t look like you’re done with being a pilot to me.”

“Hold your breath, LP!” Darkwing leapt up on the back of the pilot’s seat and fired a gas canister straight down into the Negaverse Launchpad’s lap.

Onto Chapter 3

#darkwing #darkwing duck #launchpad #launchpad mcquack #nega launchpad #negaverse #fanfic #fanfiction #darkwing fanfic #darkwing fanfiction #i hope i'm linking chapters right

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everythingoesnk · 4 years

Text

1957

summary; you come to john’s rescue so he doesn’t fail his test. conversation takes a turn :p

word count; 2 283

warnings; flufliness 🤗🤗

********

On Wednesdays, your older sister was in charge of doing the shopping, but fever had confined her to her bed. By strict orders of your mother, the responsibility was now yours.

That’s why you ran late to meet Mrs Smith and her nephew.

As you stood alone in the hallway, awkward and reluctant, you wished your arrival at 251 Menlon Avenue had been interrupted by the stupidest distraction. Or that you’d have declined to come when you had the opportunity to.

Hearing them arguing upstairs wasn’t what you wanted to do with your evening. Neither was helping John to study for the math test he had the morning after. You couldn’t work miracles, and with this transparency you explained it to your grandma when she compelled you to lend him a hand.

She and Mimi had been good friends for years, and when they were together drinking tea last week, Mimi vented to her how John would distress her in the school field. Music, the young lad was only interested in music. His grades were pitiful, and she found herself running out of stratagems to incite John to get back on track. The guy managed to pass the rest of the subjects, but mathematics were an ordeal for him.

He despised numbers just as he despised having to waste time restricting his Gallotone when he could be rehearsing instead.

“Give me back the guitar, Mimi. Where do you have it?”

“You won’t see it until I hear from the test’s result”

“I’m trying my best!”

“Try harder”

There was a truculent silence that wasn’t a silence per se. They stopped talking, but John’s frantic steps as he paced around the room rummaging around and removing furniture from its place hoping the guitar would be hiding behind were unmistakable.

“It’s not there,” she said, nuisance reflected in her tone, expression inexpressive.

“Unless you ate it it must be somewhere in the house”

Mimi didn’t answer.

“Because it’s in the house, correct?”

Mimi exhaled, giving him a hostile glare. They weren’t in a state where she could throw money around like it was nothing. If she bought him the guitar, it wasn’t to resell it or dispose of it afterwards.

“Of course it is in the house. I’ll return it if you comply with our deal”

After Mimi drew the line, you heard the woman walking down the stairs.

Straightening up, you clasped nervously your fingers around your schoolbag’s strap.

She placed her peculiar hat on top of her hair and covered her figure with a long winter coat. Its corseted structure in the middle cinched in around her already lean frame.

“Do your best” she told you, making sure that she had everything she needed on her. “If you feel like hitting him, you have my permission”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have errands to run”

When Mimi walked over to you, she stopped by your side and looked you up and down.

“The shoes. You dirtied my carpet”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Smith”

You intended to offer cleaning it up yourself until it looked like it did before, but she had other plans.

“When you’re gone I’ll tell John to handle it, the boy lacks discipline. Anyone would think he’s being raised in a jungle rather than a humble home in the northwestern of England and I wouldn’t be able to contradict them”

You had nothing to respond her with, but she didn’t look like she was interested in hearing an answer.

She rekindled her step and marched out the house, half with hurry half slipping away in case John reappeared to keep niggling over how unfair she was.

You’d been in their home previously. Once.

John had been the sergeant who lead the army, devising a prank which sloshed over onto you. Army because his two friends were the ones to set the trap, John keeping his hands clean as the commander and mastermind he thought was. They put a paint bucket on top of the classroom door frame, and the three patiently waited to see who the victim would be.

You spent hours in the shower scraping the tacky liquid off your skin.

That same day, your grandma and you showed up at their doorstep because she wanted him to apologize.

The incident was the reason why you knew where he lived.

You eased down into one of the chairs in the kitchen and dropped your bag onto the table.

John knew you were there, you wouldn’t go searching for him.

Thing is, time went on, and he wouldn’t make an appearance. You checked your wristwatch and cursed. Almost fifteen minutes had ticked by and you were waiting like an idiot for someone who clearly did not care enough.

“Am I dreaming or did I just hear (Y/N) (Y/L/N) saying a bad word?”

You flinched and brought a hand up to your chest.

Looking to the left, you saw him standing barefoot in the doorway with his arms stretched upwards, gripping at the doorframe. Legs crossed at the ankles, a wicked grin curved his lips. He was wearing a white cotton tee and denim trousers that fit him tight in the thighs.

Once recovered from the shock, you shot him a bitter look.

“You’re wasting my time, you know that? The longer you delay it, the worse”

“I’ve had better,” he said, walking over to the sink where two large vertical windows on the wall displayed a perfect view of the back porch.

He closed them, grabbed a plain black sweatshirt that hung from the chair opposite you and put it over his head, messing up even more his already tousled humid hair. It was clear that he had a shower before you showed up. If he hadn’t had, it would be replicating Presley’s.

Until then you didn’t realise that the room was indeed chilly.

“Better what?”

“Better days. Thank you for asking and showing interest” he said, waving vaguely a hand.

He slumped in that same chair and glanced across at you.

“How are you, by the way?”

“Fed up. Tell me what you don’t understand and we’ll practice” you said, pulling out of the schoolbag the book and your pencil case.

John calmly watched you prepare everything. “Geometry, algebraic equations… The entire book, if you will”

“If that’s the case, I see logic in noting down formulas first, that way you can try and memorize them too” you lifted your gaze and saw him with both hands plunged in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, shoulders relaxed. “Hello? Aren’t you getting something to write on?”

He let silence reign for a moment.

“Out of all the people in class, it had to be you,” he grumbled. You didn’t have a clue about what that was supposed to mean, but now his eyes were piercing into yours to the point where you felt very small very quick. He bounced to his feet with a huff. “I’ll be right back”

Upon his return, he carried with him a notebook with doodlings drawn by him on the cover and a pencil hanging loose between his teeth. Along the way, at some point, he tugged the hood over his face, so now you couldn’t see the top half of it.

He took the seat again and with an unfriendly look began copying the theory.

“If you’d paid attention from the beginning perhaps you wouldn’t be against the clock now”

“I can’t focus if you speak,” he grunted.

“You’re just copying” you said, raising your left eyebrow. “But alright, I’ll shut it”

When he was done, he tossed the pencil and dragged his hands down his face, pulling at the skin under the eyes.

“I hate this” he condemned.

“You hate everything that doesn’t involve music” you clarified, no malice in your statement.

“That’s not true” he scowled, pushing the hood back, actually feeling insulted.

“Alright, tell me something you don’t hate,” you propped your elbows onto the table, laced your fingers and rested your chin there.

“I don’t hate the singing of birds waking me up in the morning, and I don’t hate hanging out with you”

As much as you tried to hide it, John saw how your lips tipped up.

“Am I supposed to feel touched?”

“I’d be really sad if you didn’t. That was smooth”

“Oh wow yes, so smooth, the smoothest” you sneered, taking his notebook to write down a few problems for him to resolve.

“Smoothest” he echoed. “Is that a word?”

“It is” you weren’t sure if he was serious.

“Sounds strange to me, never used it before”

“Venustraphobia sounds awful as well and it’s a real term”

“What does it mean?”

“Fear of attractive women”

“Holy shit, is that true?” he asked, fiddling now with his pencil.

“Yeah”

“So that’s a thing. Does the phobia exist the other way around? Women fearing handsome men?”

“I guess?”

He nodded, amused. “It must be hard for you”

Confused, you raised your eyes and cocked your head with an inquisitive frown.

“Collecting yourself, I mean” he explained, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You’re doing a terrific job pretending you’re not suffering. As you might know, I’m quite charming myself”

You just stared back for some time, holding back a laugh until it became impossible to restrain.

John was so much fun when he didn’t behave like a dick, you hated to admit, which only happened when his macho friends were around. He was the leader of the group, sure, but it seemed that all he wanted was acceptance from them, to belong somewhere. Pretty much he let them change him. Although when he wasn’t near them, the carefree happy bouncy John you knew returned each time.

Abs burning from laughing, you doubled over as you hugged your abdomen. This bitch, you thought. Your shoulders kept shaking as you tried to subside your chuckles, but you couldn’t stop.

John observed your reaction placidly.

Bright with delight, his eyes gleamed when you kept patting your thigh as a conduit for the laughter.

“My God” you breathed, fanning yourself.

“It’s rude using my name in vain,” he teased, wagging the accusatory finger in your direction.

“You’re far from being God” you retorted, your chuckles fading. You gave him back his notebook. “Enough chitchat. Do these exercises and I’ll correct them”

You waited then, keeping an eye on him as well as inspecting your nails to pass the time.

He raked a hand through his hair and kept it there, closing it in a fist at the top of his head.

A sappy feeling settled in your stomach. Seeing him saturated after half an hour trying to get something done softened your heart.

He suddenly looked up, but when he caught you looking too, John quickly dropped his head.

Five more minutes and he passed you the notebook.

“Voilà. Now you can laugh at me”

“I’m not gonna laugh at you. No one is born knowing” you responded quietly.

Silently revising his answers, you got distracted remembering one thing he said earlier.

Rosiness present in your cheeks, your gaze settled cautiously upon him. “You don’t like me?”

His brows drew together in deep puzzlement.

“What?”

“‘Out of all the people in class, it had to be you’” you quoted him, your heart beating erratically. You were worried that its pumps would tear a hole in your chest. “I wanna know why you said that. Is it because you don’t like me?”

A muscle tickled in his jaw, but his expression was humourless.

“That’s not it”

You hoped his response would bloom into something more specific, but he remained with his mouth shut, tension building up between the two.

“What’s it?” you pressed.

Darkness igniting his eyes, he leaned back in his chair.

“Answering your previous question, I do. A lot, actually. That’s my issue”

Petrified, your pulse shot to the sky.

“Why is it an issue?”

“We both know why”

Was John Lennon telling you with all his chest that he was interested in dating you but that he’d never acted upon it ‘cause he assumed you were out of his league?

“You didn’t ask me about my feelings, not once”

“Why would I? You’re sweet and smart. I’m none of that”

Oh, Johnny boy. His words cracked your heart. Lies, they were cruel lies.

“What are you doing this Friday?” you inquired. “I don’t know if you know, but I really like painting. I held an exhibition at school—”

“I’m aware. I was there”

Warmth radiating up your body, you fought back a stunned gasp. “You went?”

He never mentioned it before.

Gazing in each other’s eyes longingly, a goofy side smile fleetingly graced his lips.

Electric tingles spread through your nervous system. You composed yourself with a toss of the head. And he dared to say he wasn’t sweet? You were drowning in diabetes.

“My point is, the school’s newspaper asked me to present something new, and I have yet to finish my piece. Maybe, if you want, you could join me and we make each other company. You can bring your guitar and play some music”

You’re adorable, he wanted to interrupt, mouth twitching.

“I guess I could do that” he said instead.

“Awesome” you bit on your bottom lip, thrilled.

“I’m concerned, though”

“Concerned?” your eyebrows snapped together. Was he having second thoughts? “About what?”

“Concerned that I will start developing venustraphobia now that I’m gonna spend more time with you”

Your laughter hugged his soul.

John contemplated stupefied how easy you made it to fall in love.

Just hearing your giggles was enough for him to understand he could never compose a melody more lovely and magical than that.

#john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #the beatles #john lennon imagine #john lennon fanfic #john lennon fanfiction #fluffy #john lennon #tayloredstarr

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gingyboo · 3 years

Text

Mirror Mirror

A/N: Again many thanks to @booglebug

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

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

Chapter 12

They woke up curled together the next morning. Their foreheads were pressed together, his left arm snaked round her wait whilst his right was tucked up supporting his head, he hummed softly playing with her loose hair. She looked into his eyes, adoration flooding through her.

“I know I have never said it, but I love you.” Nancy whispered. A smile spread across his lips and a blush rose to his cheeks.

“I thought that was because it didn’t need saying, I love you too.” He kissed her firmly on the lips. She smiled into it before rolling away and out of the bed.

“Come on sergeant, we’ve got work to do.” She ordered.

“Yes ma’am.” He answered.

They got up and ready quickly and without incident. Nancy pulled on her dress from the night before and Bucky slipped into his jacket, the left sleeve missing, flexing his vibranium arm. They made their way to the palace once more, meeting Sam at the door. They were led to the main hall where Duncan Everett was already sat bound by a brightly lit device to the floor. A force field surrounded him as well. He has wearing the same clothes as the night before minus the black coat and appeared tired and fed up. Shuri was sat casually in a chair, her legs swung over one of the arms. She smiled as they entered gesturing to some other seats that were laid out.

“Lieutenant Everett if I’m correct?” Shuri started taking the lead in the interrogation.

“I don’t go by that rank anymore.” He answered quickly with a scowl

“Well, no I suppose you wouldn’t, seeing as you’re legally dead.” Nancy snapped back.

“touché.” He smirked.

“What is it you want with Martin Cartwright?” Shuri asked firmly.

“Absolutely nothing.” He dragged his eyes away from Nancy to look directly at Shuri. She frowned in response.

“What’s all this been about then?” She stood up approaching the forcefield.

“I don’t want anything from Matin Cartwright. I’m after her.” He pointed straight at Nancy. Bucky drew himself up to stand in front of her.

“Well you can’t have her.” he shouted, anger rising inside.

“Oh, believe me it’s not like that big guy.” He shook his head laughing.

“Then what is it like?” Sam asked. Duncan looked around the room weighing up his options.

“I’m trying to smoke out a rat, just needed some decent bait.” He leered at her.

“Who, who’s the rat?” Nancy faltered.

“I think you already know that. Christopher Cartwright.” He stated confidently.

“Christopher Cartwright is dead.” Bucky snapped back

“So am I, legally.” He smiled

“So, it’s true, Kit is alive.” Nancy said standing up to step infant of Bucky.

“Most defiantly.” The prisoners voice filled with venom.

“Explain.” Sam said. All of them now on their feet. Duncan looked between them, realising he was outnumbered and alone, he told them everything.

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America had their Captain, Britain wanted their own. The super soldier serum was lost but the military took on the greater scientific minds in the country to develop their own. The hired on the brightest and best test subjects from across the Army, Navy and Air Force. Duncan Everett was one such subject. He was the brightest and best, young, fit and healthy. Three years in the British army, he held a great sense of patriotism. It was the greatest honour to be selected. It was there that he’d met Lieutenant Commander Cartwright of the Royal Navy. He led their group, always first to volunteer, always encouraging, always up for a laugh. They’d all loved him. He was the first to take the serum, he was the natural choice, Duncan was happy to wait his turn. Until Christopher betrayed them all. Destroying the test samples and running off into the night. The scientists were found dead in the morning and the programme was shut down. After that the government wanted to forget the venture and wipe the slate clean. The test subjects were placed in witness protection for their safety. A fake training exercise was enough to stage their deaths and the country was none the wiser.

Witness protection hadn’t suited him or his comrades. If bringing in the only successful recipient of the new serum could restart the programme, then that is what they’d do. It wasn’t hard to find supporters, many criminal organisations were interested in possessing an enhanced human. What moral implications could there be for Duncan, he would simply had all his benefactors over to the police once they were brought back into the military. Tracking down Christopher Cartwright had turned out to be more difficult than he predicted. He was a man of great means, Duncan suspected he could be hiding anywhere.

Then he remembered the sister. The letters Cristopher had written but never sent, always to the same woman, the picture of the girl with the long dark hair laughing next to him that he’d kept in his wallet. Nancy Cartwright, the sister he’d felt guilty for abandoning, at least that is what Duncan had managed to infer from their conversations. She was nothing special, a London socialite, daughter of a diplomat overseas. Getting close was to her proved to be more difficult, her home was too secure to think about a break in, she rarely ventured out alone and when she did it was to no readable pattern. Then came her invitation to the ballet, they’d been intercepting her communications, alone in a box with an easily compromised politician. Duncan had sent in his men, only to be foiled by two of the avengers. He’d gone in to get her himself, played his trump card to no avail, then been picked off the ground like a door mouse being hunted by a bird. Duncan then retreated to regroup in Amsterdam.

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“Why would Kit betray you?” Nancy said forcing back the tears in her eyes. Kit was alive, it was the only thought in her mind, her singular purpose was finding him.

“I was going to ask you that. I don’t believe he was working alone. You got any ideas who he was working with?” Duncan smirked knowingly at her.

Nancy’s heart sank in her chest, she felt like she might feint or throw up. Bucky caught her as she stumbled, she couldn’t meet his gaze though. She shook off his grip and, though it took all her remaining strength, she marched from the room.

“Think I touched a nerve?” Duncan asked the room.

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Nancy walked for a while before her legs sent her to the training room. She found the targets set up like they had been the day before. She breathed deeply handling the knives laid out for practice. She picked one up, testing its weight gently before launching it towards the target with a scream. It missed rebounding off the forcefield and falling to the ground. she picked up two more throwing them with the same result. She let the tears fall, felt the walls collapsing in on her. knife after knife she threw until one bounced badly on the forcefield and came flying back at to her ear. A hand shot out and grabbed it, it took Nancy a moment to realise it was her own. She stared at it in surprise, taking a deep breath she could almost hear the music in her head, she threw it back and it hit home, dead centre. Her toes curled as she found adrenalin coursing its way through her. She jumped on the spot before picking up the fallen knives. she returned to her spot, the music filling her head again as she threw the knives in quick succession, each hitting, forming a ring around the centre. She heard a clapping coming from behind her, she whipped round to find Bucky stood leaning against the door frame, his face carved from stone and unreadable.

“Bucky…”

“What’s going on Nance, what was that in there?” he walked over to her, his thumb rubbed a stray tear off her cheek. she shook her head turning away from him.

“He’s so bloody smug, like he’s proud of himself, like this is some sort of game, well it’s not, it’s my life and it’s my family, it’s my brother.” she said pulling the knives from the target, “Well you know what, no one messes with my family,” Buck nodded agreeing with her.

“What did he mean, about Kit having help, he seemed to say it for your benefit.” he asked grabbing her hand.

“Bucky don’t push this,” he let go automatically, his brow creasing.

“Nancy please, you’re shaking.” She hadn’t noticed till he told her.

“There are things I haven’t told you, about my family, people we don’t talk about, and I should have told you, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She fell to the floor at his feet, he slid down to join her.

“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay, you can tell me.” Bucky insisted. She was quiet for a while, Bucky could almost hear the cogs turning in her head.

“My mother is Sokovien by birth,” she stuttered out. “Her maiden name was Zemo, her father was Petrov Zemo, her older brother was Machev Zemo and her nephew…”

“Helmut Zemo.” Bucky finished for her. Nancy looked away, nodding.

“I only met him twice, my mother didn’t agree with their criminal dalliances, so she lived a very separate life after she married. He came to England once with his mother, they stayed with us, he was older, a moody teenager at the time.” She chanced a glance at him, still he appeared unreadable.

“And the second time?” he said.

“My grandfather’s funeral.” She said finally meeting his eyes.

“And Kit, did he know him any better?” Bucky asked, encouraging her to continue.

“Not that I knew, but who else could he know who hates the very idea of super soldiers enough to kill those who made a serum?” He agreed with her there.

“Nancy,” he placed his palm against her cheek. “thank you for telling me.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried.” he sealed his words with a kiss to her cheek. As he stood up he brough her to her feet as well. He linked their fingers together after taking the knives from her hand. “That was impressive.” he nodded towards the target. “Seems like Shuri’s theory was correct.” Nancy nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder. “We don’t choose who we’re related to Nancy.”

They left the training room together and walked together, they walked through the city in silence, Bucky’s thumb drawing patterns across her knuckles. He planted kisses on her head at seemingly random intervals. As they got to the city’s outskirt Nancy figured out where he was leading her, down to the lake again. The sun was high in the sky this time lighting up the water. Nancy’s forehead was shiny with sweat and her feet ached from the walk. Despite this she felt calmer hearing the gentle lapping of the water. They stood together breathing in the fresh air.

“I suppose I’ll have a fair bit of explaining to do when we get back.” Nancy said, breaking the silence and turning to face her soulmate. He stared at her, taking in the way the light set fire to her hair and how her eyes seemed to glow green and gold.

“You don’t have to explain anything if you don’t want to. But I think you know what we are going to have to do next.” his eyes squinted against the sun whilst his hands sat on his hips.

“Yeah, time for a family reunion.”

“You don’t have to come, me and Sam can do this ourselves, report back to you.” Bucky tried.

“No, I have to do this, I have to come with you.” Bucky knew better than to argue. He brought his arms around her looking down into her eyes.

They’d speak with Shuri later and arrange a visit to The Raft.

#bucky barnes #the winter solider #sam wilson #captain america #mcu #mcu fic #soulmate

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iam-kenough · 4 years

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Will you ever notice me? Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Summary: During they wandering in deep snowstorm, man from van der Linde gang found odd looking girl and Dutch decides to take her to camp to see if she can be any use, leading life of outlaw with them. Quickly, new girl develops feelings towards Arthur, but he sees her just as a kid...and she won't take that! It's an original character story that starts in the place where Arthur, Dutch and Micah were supposed to first meet with Sadie. Instead she's already with them.

Authors notes: It’s second chapter and you can find the rest of chapter on my blog if you want to read more of my fanfiction.

Word count: 2978 Chapter 2

It was next day's evening when they landed on new camp's place. Everyone started arranging their tents and some of them decided to go to the lake and bath after long trip.

- The water is so damn cold! But it was nice to take a bath after all those hours- Iris was talking to Mary-Beth and her teeth were chattering. She decided to wear woolen dress Mary gave to her, not being even slightly suspicious why Iris would wear a dress so badly. It was nice, wine red and warm one. She decided to tweeze her brows a little bit and she brushed her long, black hair putting them in loose bun. Even though she will undress and wear only chemise in her bed in less than 3 hours.

Iris looked around and sighed. All good places for a tent were taken and she couldn't sleep with girls in their tent 'cause it was too small. She had to prepare her own but there was only one way left to do that.

- Knock, knock - she said awkwardly, knocking on one of polls holding Arthur's tent. He was on his coot, drawing something in his journal. It catched her attention. Didn't know he's romantic soul who would sketch while sulking like this.

- How can I help ya? - he closed the book and looked at her shyly. He analysed her posture in new clothes but very quickly so it wouldn't scare her or make her uncomfortable. Girls usually didn't like his sight on them.

- Will it bother you if I will place my tent right next to yours? All good spots were taken when I took a bath - her cheeks flushed a little bit. She even tried to flirt with him and bat her eyes, while she squeezed fabric of her dress.

- It's rather if I won't bother you, kid.

If I could I would devour you right here, Mr Morgan and you would be the only person not bothering me. I would undress you from your bright blue shirt which matches your eyes so good and I would let you pop my cherry...

- You'right out there, kid? Asked ya if I won't bother you.

- N-no, never. Thank you, Mr Morgan - she jumped into the air and disappeared to set her tent. It was mirroring his and when she was looking above her trunk she could see him, deeply in his thoughts. Honestly, if they would rearrange it a little bit more they would have big, shared tent with two beds next to eachother. But she they wasn't close enough for Iris to ask for it even if she wouldn't mind.

Later that night they had supper prepared by her and Mr Pearson. Almost everyone was eating together but she noticed Arthur hidden in his spot. She went to her tent and sat on the coot mirroring his position.

- I hope it tastes good? - Iris asked after few minutes. He raised her eyes surprised at her.

- You eatin' with my poor companion? I see everyone gathering around the fire.

- They're all nice and stuff but I like to eat in peace. You're not bad to be with, Mr Morgan.

It sounded a little bit frivolous and she actually liked it, surprised with her own temper.

He blushed. Or rather tips of his ears did.

- It's just surprising 'cause yall girls are always eating together. And yes, this stew is amazing - he liked his fingers and brushed his dirty mouth with his sleeve.

Normally she would jerk away on this kind of behaviour but she giggled at sight of big man eating messy like that.

- Girls are okay, especially Tilly and Mary, but Karen has...a little bit to intense character. Oh, and Dutch's girlfriend. That lady hates me.

- She hates everybody, dont'cha worry.

- Today she hit Dutch with a book, saying he's throwing me looks - Iris was giggling and she brushed loose hair behind her ear.

- Looks, ya say? Oh don't worry, you just new, that's why he does that, kid.

- She's rather young too, you know. It's just the make-up she uses, makes her look older.

- Ya say? Nah, you still look like kid to me. With all those freckles and you being thin. Not so sure you should go with us to rob that train, I will have to watch you all the time - his voice was low and he chuckled.

Ouch, that was bad! So he doesn't like freckles...It's nothing I can do about it. But maybe if I'm gonna eat more I'll stop being thin, get some bust maybe and then-

- You sure you want to sit here with me? You seemed bored with my old feller talkin'.

- I-I am not bored at all. Can you show me what are you drawing?

He brushed his chin, sign of him being shy and he passed her the journal. On two pages he drew their whole new camp.

- I must say you can draw, Mr Morgan. You've got talent - she passed the journal back and their hands brushed against each other. She blushed again.

- Talent that's useless for sure - his voice was low and nice and he almost sounded like purring cat. Iris felt knot tying up in her stomach.

- It's not, it's not! - she shaked her head - I find it really pretty. You could draw something for me one day - it was supposed to be flirt and she bit her lower lip but he didn't notice that. He just cheered up.

- What you like, then? I can draw it for you - he patted her arm in friendly manner. They were so close right now, their faces next to each other. She could smell him.

What do I like? Your lips, your intriguing eyes, the fact that your hair was so messy and the fact you smell like whiskey, cigarettes and sweat.

- Flowers - she said plainly, looking at her feet - Any flowers are good. Or animals. I saw you sketching deer one day.

- I've been hit on my head a lot so if I would forget remind me of it, kid - she looked at him once again and licked her lower lip, becoming red on her cheeks. He started looking at her quizzically.

- I think you catched a cold, kid, you seem burning up. Better go to sleep, tomorrow's a day too.

Knot in her stomach popped and she lowered her head. Kid, you say. Im gonna show you, one day I will gain weight, have some reall boobs and nice mature dresses and you will look at me the right way. She got up a little bit too quick, tears forming in corner of her eyes but he was facing her back almost immediately and he didn't see.

- Y-you right, I don't feel my best - she answered with shaking voice and she rubbed her eyes - I'm...gonna get some rest. Goodnight, Mr Morgan.

- Uh-, yea, good night - he read her bad, he was sure she's sick but she seemed rather irritated by the fact he noticed? I will apologize tomorrow.

She put on the curtain between the halves of tent which was giving them privacy now and she sighed. At first she looked in small mirror she owned and analised her own face. You ugly, Iris.

Girl looked at herself quizzically. Big, green eyes with long lashes and nice, pink lips but then freckles happened, covering her nose and cheeks. Her hair were jet black but wavy instead of sleek locks of other girls around. Iris started undressing herself and she looked at her figure with disgust. She had round hips and long legs, but that's it. She looked thin and had small breast and that was not what men would look at. It's not what he would look at.

When she put on her night gown and layed down she looking at tents ceiling and thinking. Oil lamp in Arthur's half stopped giving light, he was going to sleep. She heard him getting comfortable on his bed and after few minutes he was breathing heavily.

She drifted away in her sleep, thinking how it would be to cuddle his big frame.

Another few weeks passed and in this time Iris tried her best to prove she's mature and strong but also femine at the same time. It was difficult to kill a man at 4 and then acting like a subtle lady few hours later. It was nice, warm evening and girls decided to go swimming after long day of work. Iris was so happy and relaxed as she and Mary - Beth was looking at red sky and Tilly with Karen was fooling around in water.

- Can I tell you a secret? You will like it - Iris whispered. Mary seemed excited immediately.

- Tell me, tell me! - she giggled

- I fell in love - Iris whispered to her ear and her friend become red from blushing.

-No way! Who, who is he? Or maybe she? - Blond girl tickled brunette a little bit.

- It's him, yes. But I wouldn't mind you...- they purred at each other and then burst into laugh.

- Who? I bet it's John, all girls are sweet on him and Abigail hates us for that.

-Nope!

- Bill!

-No!

- New O'Driscolls boy!

- Ew!

- Then who, Dutch?

- You must be crazy! I mean...he's not bad if you think about him but this red-head witch he's with? I have no chances - Iris was laughing so badly.

- You have to tell me! But then it has to be someone from outside the camp...

-No! He's there, Mary-Beth, please don't make me say his name out loud.

And then Mary became pale. Then red again. Then she got up.

-No! From all of them you choosed Arthur Morgan?!

- Shhh! We are too close to the camp!

- But why?! He's sweet but we have never seen him with woman, you know. I think he's a little bit weird about it. Dutch once laughed at him taking a bath with a dog when camp had one.

- W-Well...he seems a little awkward and he's like wild animal more than a man but he's charming and he always complemented food I make and he always talks to me in the evening.

- At least he talks to you, he usually doesn't. To no one.

- That's my problem, he talks to me but he seemes to see me as a kid. I tried everything! Few days ago I was sitting with him and we was both reading a book and I looked at him so nicely, I tried my best to look at him with hazy, flirting eyes. And he asked me if I needed glasses because I blink a lot.

- Well...I don't know how to help you - Mary said as they were walking towards camp - usually it's easy, a little bit of exposed skin and being close. You should try it.

- I should...I should go to his tent dressing my nightgown for example?

- Oh, that's an idea! I saw it and it's really cute and...hot.

-Mary- Beth, are you hitting on me? - she joked as they was passing Hosea's tent. Girls heard him talking with Arthur and they would ignore but they heard Iris's name. They started listening immediately, hiding behind the tent to eaves dropping.

- And this new girl, Iris's her name - Hosea said.

- What's with her?

- Just wanted to know what you think about her - he seemed to tease Arthur a little bit.

- It's good kid, she seems to like my company. And honestly, I like hers, she doesn't talk that much comparing to any of you fools - he cleared his throat.

- I thought that you are much closer. Basically sharing a tent and talking every evening...

- What d'ya say, Hosea?

- How long have been since you had a woman, Arthur?

- Not long enough to think about it again- his voice became angry in the nick of time - it's kid we talking about, don't get the wrong idea.

Iris inhaled sharply and bit her lower lip, while her eyes became glossy. But she listened, she couldn't stop.

- Isn't it obvious, Arthur? She looks at you very odd way and she enjoys your company a lot, lot more than others.

- I didn't notice. By the way, she's not stupid. I'm much older and I have past, just no way I would be with her. She doesn't love me to start with. One day she will leave the camp to have a normal life.

Sound of tears dropping on Iris's dress was the only sound she was making. She got up quickly and in a blink of an eye disappeared, running into the woods.

- Iris?! - Mary- Beth tried to follow her but she tripped over one of tent's strings. She sweared ugly.

This is bad, so bad - was all Iris was thinking. Her breathing heavy, her eyes red. She stopped in the middle of nowhere, just when she was sure all around her was dark forest. She didn't even know why she was so agry. Maybe because he said out loud things I thought about myself? Maybe because she was sure that his ears getting red were sign of him considering her as someone hot?

But look at yourself, c'mon. When father lived, he always told you you gonna become a maid, because no man would touch something so fragile, that looks constantly sick. He was right, oh so badly right. And now Iris had to apologise to Mary-Beth for leaving her like that.It was dark night when she got back to the camp, everyone sleeping in their tents. Only one oil lamp was glowing. She decided to act like nothing happen, just not to lose his friendship, ever. So she took a deep breath and peaked her head inside his part of tent.

- Just wanted to say good night, Mr Morgan - was all she said, smiling faintly.

- Kid! You weren't there for supper. Did something happened?

- N-no...just small fight with girls - she lied without hesitation. Then smiled a little bit more so he won't be suspicious. He always was but he was taking her lies as an answer, 'cause she lied when it would expose her feelings.

- Small fight made you disappear without word? Y'got hot head then - he joked. His blue eyes were piercing her.

- Maybe a little - he didn't see nothing good about her anyway, she could become hothead in his eyes even it was inappropriate for woman.

- Wanna talk about it?

- With you? I-I mean we can but it's nothing. Really.

- You seem sad lately, kid. Is someone or something bothering you?

- Ah...no, just stupid, girly things.

- Girly things - he seemed a little bit scared now.

- Interests of heart, to call it. Nothing too exciting, especially for you.

He became silent. So she wasn't considering him as a close friend if she didn't want to tell. He thought different for a second but...she was right, he was no friend.

- Were you ever in love, Mr Morgan? - he heard her voice from behind one of trunks. She probably lied on her bed.

- F'course I was. But if you askin' me 'bout those things ya need to share with me first, ya know? What are those Interests of heart, huh?

She took deep breath. After few seconds she knew how to tell it without being obvious.

- I just fell in love with someone who will never accept me. He's good friend and that's only reason I didn't tell him yet. But I know....I heard what's he talking about me, no need to share my feelings with him, because he considers me strongly as a friend, nothing more. It would make our relationship awkward.

He furrowed his brows. So she was seeing someone. He wondered who.

- That sounds a lil' bit bad, kiddo. Maybe I don't look like but I know how to have a broken heart - he said as his eyes become glossy. She couldn't see them anyway, so he didn't hold back thinking about Mary right now - But if it's your friend he shouldn't judge ya, ya know. Even if he doesn't share feelings with you. You sure, he does not?

- One hundred percent sure - she said that very slowly because those words left bitter on her tongue - and I'm not afraid of being judged, I just know it would destroy our friendship.

- He's no friend then - Arthur replied shortly. He felt like dumbass but if she liked talking to him about all of this he felt appreciated.

Iris took deep breath. You are a friend. The closest one I have now after those weeks that passed. And I will cherish you forever, even if your lack of knowledge will hurt me sometimes.

- He is. About this I'm sure. I really love this person. Thank you, Mr Morgan for listening to me - it sounded like she thanked him for listening but she was actually thanking him for everything.

It seemed like yesterday when they rescued her but it wasn't. Many days passed and she already shared with him many thoughts but also many jobs, even dangerous one. They robbed trains together after all. They was murdering together. And every evening they were lying in their beds and talking. They usually looked at their tent's ceiling but she didn't mind. He seemed so sad and distanced, always worried. She also noticed his extremely low self-esteem, he always was talking that he's not good man and that he's stupid on account being hit on the head to often.

She had fallen asleep to those thoughts.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oc #rdr2 tag #slow romance #angst #smuttish #fluff

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strongerwiththepack · 4 years

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Fab-Five-Feb: Gordon

Hope you enjoy this Gordon-centric fic as his week comes to a close. Poor Alan didn’t even get a mention in this one after getting the spotlight last week. Thanks again @gumnut-logic for this challenge. I’ve used the prompt ‘no clothes’.

“Tell dad I’m going out for the night.” Gordon said casually to John, who was in the kitchen doing work for school. He was hoping he could get away without John asking any questions. He almost succeeded as John just nodded, heavily engrossed in the book he was reading but as he opened the door to leave John seemed to snap out of it.

“Wait, where are you going?” John gave him a suspicious look.

“Just to the lake with some friends.” Gordon shrugged.

John narrowed his eyes. “Which friends?”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Do we need to do this again John?”

“Apparently we do.” John said straightening up in his chair. “Those guys are no good for you Gordon.”

“Whatever John, you’re just jealous because they’re not friends with you.”

“They are not your friends Gordon.”

There was the toot of a horn sounding outside.

Gordon gave John a quick wave as he headed out the door. “I’ll be home by 10, okay?”

He didn’t give John the chance to respond before he was running down the driveway.

“Hey Tracy, that your weirdo brother at the window?” Todd Davidson mocked as Gordon clambered into the back of the 4-by-4.

Gordon just gave a half-hearted laugh. He knew these guys didn’t get along with John but he was never going to sit and ridicule his older brother. Although…he also wasn’t at the stage where he was ready to stick his neck out to defend John either.

He really wanted to impress these guys. They were older than him, he’d only just started to get invited along to hang out with them. Todd was a senior, like John, and most of his friends were either also seniors or juniors, Gordon was the only sophomore going tonight. Apparently there was a huge party going on at the lake just 20 minutes out of town.

Gordon had gotten friendly with Todd after the older boy had witnessed a fight Gordon had gotten himself into with another Senior – a Senior that Todd wasn’t too keen on either apparently. Gordon had taken the guy down with no more than a bruised cheek in return. He had three older brothers – he knew how to handle himself in a fight.

Speaking of his brothers, they had all been less than pleased with his behaviour, that’s why when Todd came along singing his praises he’d soaked it up. Scott was just starting his training in the air force and Virgil was away at college so they didn’t have the same influence on him as they used to. His dad had been very distracted lately and was away on business a lot. John had told him his dad had a big project in the works. Gordon hadn’t cared enough to question it further.

As for John, his closest older brother had given him quite the lecture but Gordon brushed it off at the time. John was always warning him about the guys in his year but Gordon was pretty sure John just didn’t know how to have fun. Heck, he’d definitely never seen his older brother go out to a party like this. Even Scott and Virgil had gone to their fair share of parties in their high school days. So when Gordon got invited to one himself, he jumped on the opportunity.

It about 7pm so it was already dark outside. Gordon stared out the window as they reached the lake. They drove round it for about a mile before the car drew to a stop. Gordon looked out at the darkness confused.

“I thought you said this was going to be a party?” Gordon asked looking out on to the silent waterfront. He’d expected a bonfire and loud music and he couldn’t hide his disappointment.

Todd chuckled from the front seat. “Don’t worry Tracy, we’re just leaving the car here and walking round.”

“Oh. Okay.” Gordon mused as he exited the car with the four other guys.

Todd went to the boot and pulled out a pack of beers, handing them out to everyone. He didn’t even hesitate to toss one in Gordon’s direction too.

Seeing Gordons look of unease he snorted “That’s not your first beer, right Tracy?”

“’Course not” Gordon was quick to shoot back, popping open the can. He took a sip and was hard pushed not to gag. Was it suppose to taste like that?

The guys set off down towards the water and Gordon couldn’t help but shiver a bit at the cold. This really wasn’t what he’d been expecting and he was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.

He piqued back into the conversation as he heard one of the other guys shout at him. “Hey baby Tracy, aren’t you like a champion swimmer or something?”

He bristled a bit at the baby part but replied anyway, trying to sound impressive. “Yeah, coach said I could be on track for the Olympics if I put in the work.”

“Olympics, huh?” Todd grinned. “Give us a show then.” He said pointing towards the water.

Gordon gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah right.” He snorted.

Todd groaned dramatically and put his arm around Gordons shoulder. “Aw come on water baby, don’t be a party pooper.”

Gordon frowned. “You can’t be serious. It’ll be freezing.”

Todd just grinned down at him. “We’ve got towels in the car, just take another swig of the beer and you’ll be good to go. Come on Tracy, I know you aren’t a coward.”

Gordon stared out at the water. He tried to convince himself it would be fine. So what if he got a little cold? The guys would love it. He started to strip off his clothes.

The guys all cheered around him and Gordon felt his confidence return. Might as well put on a good show.

“There you go Tracy, knew you were up for a good time.”

When he was down to just his boxers he turned and gave the guys a mock salute before jumping off the bank and into the water. It was ice cold and the breath was knocked out of him immediately. He heard the guys cheering him on from the bank though so he kicked out and started swimming. He got into a rhythm after that. 1, 2, 3, 4, breathe, 1, 2, 3, 4…

When he figured he’d gone far enough out, he started treading water and looked back to the shore with a grin on his face.

It was silent.

His face dropped and he suddenly felt very alone. It’s fine, he told himself. He’d just gone too far out. He started swimming back, feeling the cold numbing his limbs slightly. When he got back to the bank and still couldn’t hear anything, he started to panic a little.

“Guys?” he called out. “Todd?”

He pulled himself up onto the bank, shivering as a light breeze blew past. He wrapped his arms around himself and noticed with a sinking heart that his clothes were gone as well.

“Very funny guys” he shouted into the darkness. “You can come out now.”

Everything remained perfectly still. Gordon ran back up to the road. The car was gone as well. Shit.

Gordon felt tears prickle at his eyes as he started to panic. He was standing in his boxers, soaking wet on a cold night in October. His phone had been in the pocket of his jeans so he didn’t even have anything to call home with.

His breathing picked up harshly. He was going to die out here. His body already felt stiff and the shivers tore through him harshly. Think Gordon.

John! John knew where he was. He just had to find a way to stay warm until John came to look for him. He sighed as he realised it was probably barely even 8 o’clock and John wasn’t expecting him back until 10. He needed somewhere he could wait until then. He vaguely remembered passing a water sports hut on the way in. That was probably his best option right now.

He walked a solid 30 minutes before he came across the old wooden building. He was pretty sure his feet were bleeding after walking all that way barefoot on the rocky surface but he was too scared to look. And too cold to feel it.

He tried the door but, as suspected, it was locked. He peered through the window looking longingly at the wetsuits hung up on the rack. Oh how he wished he could climb into about 10 of them right now. All layered on top of each other.

He trudged over to the changing cubicles closer to the water. Thankfully they were also made of wood and were not locked. He was relieved as he shut the door behind him. In the small confines of the changing room, without the wind, it was a mild temperature. It was still cold but not the hypothermic level of cold outside had been.

He curled up on the bench and prepared to wait.

He must’ve dozed off briefly cause the next thing he woke up to was what sounded like somewhere shouting his name. He bounced to his feet only to grunt as his legs gave out underneath him and black spots appeared in front of his eyes. He kneeled on the ground breathing heavily. He was so tired.

“GORDON!”

He lifted his head as he heard a familiar voice shout his name. He almost cried in relief.

“John!” He shouted, or tried to anyway, it came out more like the pathetic whine of an injured animal.

He pushed open the door to the changing room and half crawled, half stumbled out onto the grass.

“John!” he tried again as he managed to push himself into a standing position.

There was running footsteps in his direction and he tensed slightly until a steadying hand was placed on his shoulder and John’s face filled his vision.

“Geez Gordon, you’re freezing.”

That was all it took and Gordon pushed himself into John’s arm, violent sobs wracking his small frame.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he cried.

John was startled momentarily but was quick to return his little brothers hug, wrapping his arms around Gordons ice cold skin.

“You’re okay.” He reassured.

John was so warm. Gordons chest was tight as he cried out all the emotions he’d kept in the past few hours. Eventually John stepped back, grabbing one of Gordon’s arms and placing it around his shoulder to help Gordon walk. They limped slowly towards what Gordon hoped was a car. His limbs feeling lethargic and his feet were stinging from his previous walk.

John helped him into the passenger side of the car before rushing around the other side to turn on the heating. John got out again and returned with a thick blanket that he threw over his little brothers shivering form. He finally settled into the drivers seat and started the engine.

John glanced over at his little brother worriedly. “You need to tell me what happened Gordon”

Gordon buried his face in the blanket, feeling tear well up in his eyes again.

“You were right okay?” Gordon said defensively. “I shouldn’t have trusted those guys.”

“Did they hurt you?” John questioned quietly. He had been imagining the worst for the past couple of hours.

“They just left me out in the cold, half-naked and soaking wet.” Gordon grumbled bitterly before whispering. “I thought I was going to die.”

John barely caught that last part but hearing the vulnerability in his usually boisterous little brother made his blood boil.

“I’m going to kill those guys.”

Gordon startled. He’d never heard John sound so angry.

“It’s my fault John, I should have listened to you.”

“I never should have let you go in the first place.” John sighed. “Those guys have caused me so much trouble over the past 4 years.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me John, I’m just glad you still came to find me.” Gordon shuddered when he thought of what could have happened.

“I will always come for you Gordon. Always.” John promised.

Gordon settled back into his seat, finally warming up. He made a mental note to listen to John more in the future. John was always right. Why did none of them ever listen to him?

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #Gordon Tracy #again there is no canon timeline here #also this is my longest fic in a really long time???#go me

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t0ngue-tech · 4 years

Text

All Yours | Seven

“’Was I not enough for you…?’

Seolhyun parted her lips but hesitated to say anything. She also dropped her head, possibly trying to get everything in her mind organized.

‘Yoongi, I’m so sorry.’ She said sadly.”

↠fluff, angst, universityAU↞

word count: 4.5k

↠series: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ↞

A/N: yall idk what’s gotten into me. i literally just uploaded a story and here i am with the update of all yours lmao. tbh ive also been working on this chapter for a while so tyj i finished it huhu. enjoy ^-^

“Come on, Yoongi. Just text her.” You stood in front of your mirror and adjusted your hoodie.

From the moment you woke up, had a cup of coffee, took a shower, and changed into an outfit, Yoongi spent the entire time debating if he really wanted to text Seolhyun. You agreed to go with him to see her because it was his stipulation, but he was the one hesitating.

“You know what, maybe I don’t need closure. It’s all good.” Yoongi placed his phone on your nightstand and laid back down.

“Ugh. Yoongs.” You grumbled and strode over to sit beside him. “Sure you may not need closure, but I know deep down you want to talk about your feelings. You don’t deserve to be cheated on—nobody does. Please text her.”

Yoongi glared at you for a few seconds before he softened his eyes. He mumbled something along the lines of I hate it when you’re right and reached for his phone but took a detour to grab your hand first.

“So, you promise you’re going to come with me? You’re not going to flake out?” He kept his eyes on your fingers as you lazily grazed the back of his hand.

Could he get any more adorable?

“I promise.” You replied earnestly. “But I start work at three today, so keep that in mind.”

Yoongi squeezed your hand and locked eyes with you. Never in your life did you ever picture yourself to be in this position. He held your hands before, mainly to guide you around places when you were extremely drunk but nothing like this. Yoongi had a sweet look in his eye with a smile to match and you were so sure you were dreaming. Yoongi was perfect. Why would Seolhyun want to cheat on him in the first place?

“Okay. Now, go to class.” Yoongi lifted your hand and kissed it. Your cheeks flared a bit and you probably failed to hide the disappointment in him not kissing you on your lips instead.

“Fine. But go outside and take a walk,” you gave him your dorm key. “You need some sunlight.”

After listening to Yoongi’s bullshit excuse about how sunlight was never necessary for him in the first place, you left his side to slip on your sneakers.

Why can’t time just fast forward to later? I just want Yoongi and Seolhyun to meet already so it can all be over with and done. How am I supposed to even focus in class?!

“Wait.”

Yoongi’s voice broke your thoughts and you stood up from your floor. He scooped you by your waist to press your body against his before stealing a long kiss on your lips. You felt your entire body relax and you clutched onto his nape to support yourself.

“You may have more knowledge about people’s behaviors and shit, but I know you well enough that you were waiting for that, right?” Yoongi said with a smirk after breaking the kiss. Your face bloomed crimson and you playfully shoved him a few inches away from you.

“Bye, Yoongi.” You walked away from him with bliss coursing through you and just before you stepped out of your dorm, you caught the satisfied grin on Yoongi’s face.

↠↞

I will die in this developmental psychology class, I swear.

Time in your psychology class always ticked on like you had nothing else planned for the day. You jotted down chicken scratch notes, promising yourself to fix them up when you had time later; thank goodness your professor put up the lecture slides at 7pm on the same day of class. You began to mindlessly doodle at the bottom of your paper.

So many things could go wrong later.

Three stick figures were drawn at the bottom; one with a crude drawing of a beanie, one with hair just below its “shoulders”, and one with long hair blacked out with your pen. You drew scribbles of symbols around the drawing of the figure with long hair indicating how pissed off Seolhyun would be if she saw you two together.

Ugh. I can hear her voice now.

“Why did you bring her?”

“Unless you were cheating on me first!”

You scribbled all over the drawing and turned over the page.

The same stick figures were drawn at the top this time and instead of symbols, you drew tears coming from the figure with long hair and hearts around the beanie figure; Seolhyun would be in tears, apologizing and begging Yoongi for forgiveness and he would play right into her and fall in love all over again.

This time, you fiercely scribbled over the drawing.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.

Like clockwork, you drew the stick figures. Hearts were drawn around the beanie and medium haired figures while the last one had a giant X covering its face; Seolhyun is completely cut out of the picture and forced to watch how lovey-dovey you and Yoongi were.

This drawing caused your face to heat up a little. There was no way Yoongi would show any affection towards you in front of her because he wasn’t the type to purposely make matters worse.

One last time the figures were drawn back onto your paper and this time, you drew speech bubbles with squiggly lines inside that ended with periods and a few exclamation points. The most likely scenario would be a calm conversation with a few outbursts between Yoongi and Seolhyun. The last thing anyone would want is making a huge scene in front of everyone—

Wait, I don’t even know where they’re meeting!

[10:32] You: hey, where are you two going to have this conversation anyway??????????

Yoongi’s reply came through like lightning.

[10:33] Yoongz: You know the benches outside of the library?

[10:33] Yoongz: There.

Great. We’re going to be in public…

His texts didn’t stop there.

[10:35] Yoongz: I told her to meet me at 11:15 so that you have time to be here before she comes.

[10:35] Yoongz: I’ll be wearing the light brown coat you gave me for my birthday and the blue beanie you hate so much

[10:36] Yoongz: You’ll be able to find me pretty easily.

That damn beanie.

The mental image of Yoongi in the blue beanie made you snicker, but you quickly cleared your throat realizing you were in class laughing to yourself like an idiot.

[10:40] You: okay. i’ll see you then

[10:40] You: fuk that beanie doe omfg.

↠↞

“So you’re seriously going to be there? With Yoongi and Seolhyun? Possibly arguing in front of you? Right in front of your salad?!”

Walking to the library, you gave Hani a quick call to update her with everything that had happened since you told her about Seolhyun cheating on Yoongi.

“Yes, right in front of my salad.” You laughed. “To be honest, I’m kind of scared. Like why did Yoongi have to say he kissed me! Actually… I don’t know what would be worse, her knowing the truth or his lie.”

“Either way she’s going to raise hell, but if you need me, you call and I’ll come running!”

You smiled softly. Hani was serious in the most endearing way possible.

“I know—” Yoongi’s blue beanie stood out at a table underneath one of the large trees. “Yoongi’s there. I’ll call you later Hani or better yet, I work at three so you can come to the coffee shop anytime after that and I’ll update you on what happens.”

“Okay. Be safe. I love you!”

“I love you, too.”

You took a deep breath and approached Yoongi who had two cups of coffee and two sandwiches sitting in front of him. As much as you hated that damn beanie, he still looked as handsome as ever.

“Hi, Yoongs.” You smiled.

Yoongi instantly smiled at the sight of you. “Hey—no, sit by me.” He reached for your hand to stop you from sitting across from him and tugged you over to sit beside him instead.

The action startled you and almost made you lose your footing, but Yoongi supported you by the waist to let you sit down without injury.

“Th-Thanks.” You stuttered.

“Oh, here you go by the way.” He handed you a paper gift bag that he probably stole from your closet. “You left your work shirt and shoes. There’s also a water bottle in here because you need actual hydration and not just coffee swimming throughout your bloodstream.”

Everything he mentioned was sitting neatly inside the bag and your smile was impossible to hide. You’ve been nervous and jittery about meeting with Seolhyun that you completely forgot about your work clothes. Yoongi was a life saver.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You breathed.

“Of course. Now eat, you didn’t even have breakfast this morning.”

As you had brunch, you spent the time complaining to Yoongi about how developmental psychology makes you want to jab multiple pens in your eyes. He argued that you say that about every class you have and even flicked your forehead.

“You’re doing great though, so keep on keepin’ on.” Yoongi rubbed the spot he flicked with the pad of his thumb.

You felt the weight of your school work elevate at the touch of his finger. Yoongi had the power to relieve any stress that you had in the palm of his hand and it amazed you. Maybe this was just the effect of you being whipped for him for almost a year. It sounded pathetic, but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

“A-hem.”

Both you and Yoongi tore your eyes away from each other to find Seolhyun standing at the opposite side of the table with her arms folded across her chest. Her eyebrows were furrowed and daggers shot from her eyes right into your own. The aura that came off of her was no less than intimidating and you felt as if your soul left your body.

Fuck.

↠↞

“What is she doing here?!” Seolhyun barked as she took a seat.

“I asked her to come so just leave her be.” Yoongi spat.

You silently observed Seolhyun’s outfit; she wore a casual black dress that stopped above mid-thigh and had a deep v-neck line. A cream cardigan hugged her frame and she even made time to put on makeup and curl your hair. If your suspicions were correct, she dressed that way on purpose to use her looks to win back Yoongi somehow. Seolhyun was honestly gorgeous which made you nervous. What if it reeled him back in?

She cleared her throat again and avoided eye contact with Yoongi. “Thank you for meeting with me.” Her voice grew softer and softer towards the end of her sentence and she fiddled with the ends of her hair. This gave off a vulnerable look, almost “cute”.

“Okay.” Yoongi said sharply.

The tension in the air was suffocating and all you wanted to do was run away, but Yoongi kept his hand on your knee underneath the table to keep you at bay.

“So? Anything else you need to say?” Yoongi kept the same tone of voice, annoyed. He truly didn’t want to be here.

“Sigh. I’m sorry okay? God, can we just talk without you being mad at me?!” Seolhyun raised her voice a bit.

“Of course I’m mad! How the hell am I supposed to be feeling? You cheated on me!” Yoongi raised his voice as well and you were even more nervous. You three were sitting in public with students walking by and you were praying to God that everyone was just minding their own business.

“Y-You cheated on me too! You—!” She pointed at him. “—kissed her!” Her finger was now on you.

Yoongi furrowed his brows and squeezed your knee. “Alright, fine. I kissed her once and like I said, I knew I had to tell you because I was feeling so fucking guilty about what I did. You were my girlfriend, Seolhyun! I had to be honest with you.”

Seolhyun tightly pursed her lips together, probably stopping herself from saying anything else.

“How…” Yoongi breathed. “How long have you been…”

Your eyes softened at the sight of Yoongi faltering. He didn’t want to say it. You reached beneath the table to hold that had that was on top of your knee. Instantly, you watched his shoulders relax.

“Um…” Seolhyun chewed on her bottom lip and picked at the skin around her nails. “Just-Just once..”

Bullshit.

“Don’t you think Yoongi deserves a lot more honesty that?” You boldly questioned. Talking was never part of your agenda, but it’s true, he deserved to know the truth after tearing himself apart from agonizing over his self-worth.

“Excuse me?” Seolhyun stared you down and you couldn’t back down no matter how much you wanted to.

“I–I don’t think you’re telling him the truth.” You tried to sound confident, but your stutter gave it away.

Seolhyun scoffed and crossed her arms. “Who do you think you—”

“She’s right. I don’t think you’re telling me the truth either.” Yoongi interjected. “For Seung Ho to talk to y/n about our situation kind of shows how close you two really are.”

“My thoughts exactly.” You said softly.

Seolhyun aggressively scratched the back of her head. “Ugh. Two months!” She blurted out. “Two-fucking-months! There’s the truth! Happy now?”

Your eyes widened then turned to Yoongi who was looking in Seolhyun’s direction with an empty expression. After remaining quiet for about a minute, a low chuckle pushed past his lips.

“Is that why we’ve been fighting so much lately?” There were hints of both sadness and anger in his tone. “This was why you’ve been so short with me? You would cut our dates short—it was because you would rendezvous with Seung Ho?”

“Y-Yoongi.” You whispered and gently rubbed the back of his hand, trying to calm him down.

“Do you know what the fuck I’ve been going through because of this?! I continuously questioned what I was doing wrong—was I not making you happy anymore? Did I do something to piss you off? Was I not buying you enough flowers on the weekends? Altering my class schedule to match yours wasn’t enough? Skipping class to spend time with you? I talked my friends’ ears off trying to figure out why I didn’t seem important in your eyes anymore…” Yoongi kept his head down and squeezed your hand to the point where his nails could draw blood from your skin. “Was I not enough for you…?”

Seolhyun parted her lips but hesitated to say anything. She also dropped her head, possibly trying to get everything in her mind organized.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry.” She said sadly.

For the first time in a while, she sounded genuine.

“You were enough for me, but I—I guess… I guess I was being selfish and I wanted more.” Seolhyun lifted her eyes in search of Yoongi’s but he still kept his head down.

“You could’ve told me.” Yoongi choked out. “You could’ve talked to me about how you were feeling and maybe—maybe things could’ve worked out.”

It was your turn to lower your head. This was truly an issue between Yoongi and Seolhyun. There was no reason for you to inject yourself into the conversation anymore.

“Is there any way we could work past this?” Seolhyun asked.

Yoongi finally met her eyes. “No. No way in hell.”

He fumbled with your hand to let go and reached into his pocket to pull out his keyring and wallet. He detached Seolhyun’s dorm key and pulled out a polaroid photo of her from inside his wallet. “Here. I don’t need these anymore.”

Yoongi reached back underneath the table in search of your hand and you stealthy met him halfway.

“Please. Just go, Seolhyun. We’re done here.” Yoongi said firmly.

Seolhyun sat there for a couple seconds and then reached forward to retrieve her belongings. As she stood up from the table, she kept her eyes on Yoongi hoping he would say something else, but he remained silent. Shortly after, Seolhyun took her leave without Yoongi sparing her a single glance.

↠↞

Even with the hustle and bustle of students walking all over campus, the world had never been so quiet. Yoongi had his head down, face buried in the crook of his elbow while still holding onto your hand. You weren’t sure when was the best time to speak, so you kept quiet waiting for him to break the silence first.

It almost physically hurt staring at Yoongi. He had been bottling up so many painful emotions to the point where it almost consumed him. He didn’t deserve to go through this.

“Y/n?” Yoongi finally spoke, but the rest of his sentence was muffled behind his coat sleeve.

“I-I’m sorry, Yoongi. I can’t really hear you.”

“Thank you for coming with me.” He turned his head and made heavy eye contact with you. “Saying all those things… I don’t think I would've been able to do it on my own, but you being here gave me strength to do so.”

His words caused a noticeable blush to form on your cheeks. He chuckled and sat up straight to tuck a few of your hairs behind your ears.

“I think you have enough time left to get to your next class from here. I’ll walk you.” Yoongi lifted you up by your arm and you almost didn’t want to go to class. All you wanted was to sit around and hold his hand all day. The thought of that made you blush even more and this made Yoongi laugh a little harder. “What’s the matter with you? Come on.”

Unfortunately, Yoongi didn’t hold your hand when he walked you to class. This was probably because it felt too soon to do so in public. It’s not like he and Seolhyun were the campus couple, but people might get the wrong idea if they knew they were dating.

After the whole thing with Yoongi and Seolhyun, it made it even harder for you to concentrate. Now that they were broken up, who knows if Yoongi still had anymore underlying feelings for her. They were together for a year, so there had to be some leftover right? Plus, Yoongi made a comment the other night about how he thought about why you kissed him and that he “figured it out.” This meant a whole new conversation, a whole new reason to be nervous.

Fucking great.

This was a conversation you weren’t looking forward to. You needed to prepare yourself somehow, but it seemed like no matter how much you could mentally prepare yourself, you still wouldn’t be ready. After knowing Yoongi for roughly a little over two years and falling for him like an idiot, never in your life did you imagine him finding out about how you felt about him.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t even a little happy. You kissed Yoongi, held his hand, and even shared a bed with him with your feelings unknowingly exposed in the air. It made you giddy; butterflies roaming around in your stomach, fighting the urge to smile whenever you thought about him. If only the circumstances were different, life would’ve been near perfect for you.

Class dragged on, notes were written down, doodles were drawn, and next thing you knew, you were tying your work apron around your waist.

“Where’s Yoongi? He didn’t walk you here?” Seokjin asked.

“Nah. His energy gauge was pretty much empty by the time he was done talking with Seolhyun so he decided to just nap for a few hours.”

“Okay, so, what’s the tea?” Seokjin stood near you, eagerly waiting for you to tell him all the juicy details.

You playfully shoved him away and walked over to the espresso machine. “I’m not saying anything until Hani gets here.”

“Aw, come on, y/n. She won’t be here till like five or something!”

You chuckled to yourself and continued to ignore all of Seokjin’s pleads for information.

The moment Hani walked through the coffee shop doors, the first words she shouted was “okay bitch, bring forth the tea!”—this was said with a shop full of students. You were immediately put on the spot, but Hani’s intentions meant well.

You made sure to include all details of the confrontation when you told Seokjin and Hani about it. You also made sure to keep your voice low because you weren’t sure who knew Seolhyun, Yoongi, or even Seung Ho. This wasn’t your story to tell, but both Hani and Seokjin were there from the beginning so it seemed fitting for them to know it all too.

Evening came just as quickly as your shift started. Hani didn’t mean to stay so late, but she got pretty invested in the situation between Seolhyun and Yoongi. Both you and Seokjin did his best to keep all of Hani’s reactions at bay, but you had to admit, it was entertaining. At least she was nice enough to help the coffee shop employees close up.

“Wouldn’t your knight in shining armor show up by now?” Hani joked.

“You need to relax—oh, bye!” You chuckled and threatened her with a broomstick and waved two of your co-workers who were heading out.

“It’s true, y/n. He’s supposed to waltz in here and be like ‘my lady, I have arrived. Your chariot awaits.’” Seokjin pranced around the room and even bowed and took your hand in his.

“And by ‘chariot’, you mean his legs right? Because the dorms are within walking distance?” You laughed.

“Well, yes, b-but anyways let me finish,” Seokjin cleared his throat. “So your knight in shining armor swoops in—” he went from holding your hand to picking you up bridal style. “—picks you up and saves you from the dungeon aka the coffee shop! And then Yoongi says—”

“Seokjin, what in zakum’s name are you doing?”

At the mention of his name coming from behind him, Seokjin froze in his tracks and turned around to find Yoongi staring at him with a questionable look.

“I—uh—” Seokjin panicked, almost dropping you on the floor but he still managed to place you back on your feet. “Alrighty-roo, well, Hani—babe, shall we take our leave?”

All Hani could do was laugh until her stomach hurt and Seokjin dragged her out of the coffee shop by her hand; she laughed so much that she could barely properly say bye to you and Yoongi.

“Do I even want to know?” Yoongi asked hesitantly.

“No, you really don’t.”

Yoongi helped you flip up the chairs onto the table while you continued to sweep the floor. As you two cleaned up, you proceeded to tell him about your day and apologized for telling Seokjin and Hani what happened in the afternoon. He brushed it off because he also trusted them.

Unlike your busy day, Yoongi spent his entire day eating, sleeping, and watching netflix; he exaggerated that it was a packed schedule. He even mentioned that Seolhyun still tried to call and text him, but he ignored every single attempt.

“You know, I think she dressed up that way today to lure you back to her with her looks.” You confessed.

“Huh. You think so?” Yoongi walked behind the counter where you were wiping around the sink.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, I mean, it’s been pretty cold lately and she shows up in an outfit that could barely keep her warm. She curled her hair, put on makeup, like why is doing all of that necessary to meet up with you? It seems so—what?”

Yoongi was just staring at you with a smirk plastered on his face. “Were you worried that it was going to work?”

A blush bloomed on your cheeks. “N-No. I just think it was ridiculous, that’s all.”

He stepped closer and stood behind you, placing his hands on the metal countertop to cage you in between his arms.

“You know, you observe others pretty well but from my observations from knowing you, you kind of suck at lying.” Yoongi laughed and you forced a chuckle out. You weren’t going to even deny it.

From the counter, Yoongi lifted his hands to secure them around your waist, hugging you from behind. You made a few attempts to move around to clean the counter properly, but he remained.

“Yoongi, I have to clean.” You chuckled.

“Just—” He briefly let you go to spin you around so he could hug you from the front. “Five minutes. Let’s stay like this for five minutes, please.”

It was such a genuine request, how could you say no?

Yoongi was leaning into you with his face buried in the crook of your neck. You had your arms lazily slung around his shoulders and just listened to his faint breathing. The blonde tips of his hair tickled your nose a bit, so you gently slide your hand across his nape to brush down his hair. He hugged you tighter at your sudden action and sighed.

“You’re really going to touch me like that, y/n?” The teasing tone in his voice was enough to raise your temperature and cause a blush to appear on your cheeks.

“Y-Yoongi!” You tried to push him away, already feeling embarrassed, but he just continued to hold you.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Yoongi snickered. “It’s fine, keep touching my hair.”

You were still feeling embarrassed because that was the first time Yoongi used that tone of voice with you. Nonetheless, you listened and continued to stroke his hair. Thankfully he didn’t wear that awful beanie.

Yoongi didn’t say another word and every once in a while, he’d caress your back and readjust himself. Small sparks ignited at the simplest touch and for some reason you wanted to laugh. This was everything you wanted but it did confuse you as to how comfortable Yoongi was doing all of this to you. All you did was kiss him once and the next moment he’s acting as if you two were dating for years.

“Okay, I’m recharged. Continue your cleaning.” He emerged from your body and cupped your cheek. Even if you were the one embarrassed, Yoongi still had a hue of pink displayed at the tops of his cheeks.

For the next ten minutes, you swiftly cleaned up the stations and tossed out the garbage in the dumpster out back. Yoongi waited patiently and even gathered all of your things for you from the back room.

“So you’re opening tomorrow?” Yoongi asked whilst helping you adjust your hoodie.

“Sadly, yeah. So we can talk first then I’ll head straight to bed.”

“We can talk tomorrow, it’s fine. You need your rest.”

“B-But—”

Yoongi stole another kiss from you, probably to shut you up and it worked; it left you utterly speechless. You had to get used to this somehow.

“Tomorrow.” Yoongi whispered. “For now, let’s go home.”

Home?

There was no doubt that Yoongi was referring to your dorm as home since he stayed there the entire day. The idea of him considering your place as “home” gave you butterflies.

Home was a safe sanctuary. Home was a place where someone can easily unravel themselves to be at peace. Home was where the heart was and Yoongi was there with you.

“Yeah.” You blushed. “Let’s go home.”

♡ rae jagi

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namjoonchronicles · 5 years

Text

are you done yet? | nj

↳ GENRE fluff, domestic, slight crack attempts of me being funny

↳ WORDS 3.1k

After hours and hours and hours of working and running errands with only your left hand, Namjoon was pestering you to show your right and refused to open jars unless you did as told.

“Fine!” You roared, “Don’t freak out or anything...”

You pulled your right hand out from behind, hesitantly, inch by inch and then all out at once. He tips his eyes towards it, and slowly drags them back to your face that had turned away from him, avoiding all contact.

“H—“ “I was feeling a little upset and I wanted to get one because it looks pretty so I got one,” you explained, ready to cry because you thought he’d be mad. You know he won’t but, it was not like you to be spontaneous. However, ever since you've known Namjoon you have done questionable spontaneous shit like midnight drives to the next district or walking into a stranger’s wedding and pretending like you know them just to get food. Being in love with Namjoon has thrown your sanity out the window.

“You got henna?” He almost mumbles the words out. Seated on the floor, leaning against the wall facing the kitchen where you were. “Do you hate it?” You purse your lips, breaking out into a pout, big doe eyes looking back at him. Inhaling, he chest rises and falls, lips shaped into an O, and he contemplates, “The last time you got those was for our engagement and then on our wedding and first night together...”

“Yes,” you squeaked sadly and retracting your hand back, hiding it again, “It’s been awhile since I had it done. I just don’t feel pretty these past few months and I thought, I want it on me because then maybe I’ll feel better...”

Namjoon kept silent. He didn’t know what went through your mind half of the time but he would kill to get a look inside. Seeing how you moved away from his sight, in small unassured strides, the back of your head and the ballerina bun you made of your hair, makes him feel twice smaller than he really is.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to put the wet laundry in the dryer and start folding clothes...” you muttered to your chest, one hand over the other, scratching your elbows and walking away with your head down as if you’ve disappointed someone. It was a 5 second decision. You fret to yourself, knees digging on the floor by the machine as you load the wet laundry in the dryer as you told him. Pouting even harder because he could have at least said they look pretty.

I thought it was pretty, you mumbled to yourself.

Namjoon peeks at you from the door frame, hiding like he’s got a crush to hide. The view of your bum by the machine stirring explicit images in his head. Heat whirling in his groin and remembering how those hands travelled down the valley of his chest certainly didn’t help. It got him scratching his nails on the door paint and softly calling out your name.

He blinks repeatedly, batting his eyelashes while you hummed back, uninterestedly.

He bites his lips now, “After laundry, are you busy?”

“I have to vacuum your studio, there’s crumbs everywhere from Taehyung’s visit the other day...” you load everything and pick up the basket to place them by the bathroom door in your bedroom.

“And probably change the bedsheet, why?” You asked glancing over your shoulder at your sheepish husband. He’s acting very strange. Following you around like a lost puppy. Even when you had a phone call, and the vacuum buzzing on, he’s literally an arm’s length away.

The satisfaction of hearing all those crumbs being sucked into the vacuum is honestly everything. Namjoon helps you out by lifting the sofas and removing the chair while the nozzle dives into places you can’t reach. At the same time, your mother is on the phone asking if it’s possible to book a hall two months in advance. That was an easy question.

“For wedding halls, Namjoon booked them a year before,” you looked at him for confirmation and he stands up straight, pressing his lips together, dimples on display, eyes fidgeting out of nerves as if he was caught red handed doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He nods at your words.

The call ends after a quick gossip on your cousin who almost cut off a wedding because she’s fallen in love with someone else. More on that later. Namjoon, on the other hand had been pestering you with one question on repeat,

“Are you done yet?” After you wiped the windows. “Are you done yet?” After you knock a nail to hang the painting he bought. “Are you done yet?” After you dust the TV cabinet with a duster. “Are you done yet?” After you dry your hands washing the plates.

And now, as you try to write your monthly schedule, he peeks from the duvet of the unmade bed,

“Are you—“ “—I swear to God if you ask me one more time if I’m done yet, I’m going to fucking scream.”

He pouts and retracts back into the blanket.

“I want woohoo...” he yelps from under the covers. “Excuse me?” you shot, spinning away in your chair from the calendar that’s on your desk to your husband that hiding under the duvet asking what you thought you heard. “Woohoo!” He cries and curled into a bowl while yelping, “The last time you got henna on your hand was on our first night and I have a corrupted mind now I have a stiffie because of your pretty hands so please woohoo before I lose my fucking mind!”

You didn’t know he was going to get worked up by that. He didn’t show any signs of vulnerability. Or fixation to it. Or were you disregarding his lingering stares that you felt throughout the afternoon because you just didn’t feel attractive enough. You were silent for too long that it drew Namjoon peeking one eye through the duvet. He is so shy, the shell of his ear is turning red.

“You’re so pretty... And everytime you hold my hand, I feel like I’m gonna cry. Because we both know that you don’t let just anybody hold your hands. And we both know that it was not like that at all in the beginning when you flinch at every physical touch I initiated. I still don’t know how we got married...”

He was right. He was so right.

Marriage didn’t come easy. It almost didn’t happen. When the day comes, both of you were so busy catering to guests. Making sure everyone feels cozy and getting the food delivered on time. Maybe you should have hired an event manager but truth be told, you wanted complete control. Namjoon’s only area of control was the bookings, financials and desserts. You thought it was fitting because he was more of a sweet tooth than you. Setting the namecards, and translating back and forth in your native language and his, to make sure everybody knows where they’re supposed to be had made both of you tired beyond belief. The constant questions and curious eyes were bouncing back and forth with language barriers. Namjoon sat plopped on the dining platform, by the stairs, with lunch for both of you and your families later. You joining him and passing him a bottled water.

“It’s like BBMAs all over again...” he lulled. You covered his hand with your own and gave it a firm squeeze. Because what else can you say in that situation? Your assurance comes in physical touches. And it took Namjoon by a subtle surprise. He moves his hand and thumbed your knuckle with a faint smile on his face.

“Remember back then, no matter what, you wouldn’t let me hold these?” He chuckles softly through his nose. “And I let you settle with a pinky hold because that was as much as physical affection I was comfortable with? Yes, like how can I forget the most awkward hand holding of all time?” You leaned closer to him, resting your head on his broad shoulders. “We’ve evolved...” you heard him say.

And how true was that. Falling in love with Namjoon felt like coming home. Like all the puzzle pieces has come to life and found themselves. And the stars are transfixed, conspiring this to happen. Namjoon felt like coming home. A home, away from home.

“I can’t help thinking that we’re forgetting something really important...” you swim in the touches that are his and the warmth that envelopes you from within when Taehyung suddenly knocks on the wooden frame, to say,

“Uhh guys?? The actual wedding?”

“Fuck.” You cursed and immediately after, Namjoon comments, “I knew this was going to happen.”

With an exasperated sigh from the end of the hall, was best man, Yoongi, beginning with, “Let’s get these two idiots so we could be home, earning a glare from his wife, “I could be home.”

It was Jungkook running to rescue.

Jimin trips over air to pass Joon the wedding ring. Bloodshot eyes and twitching eyebrows.

With utmost concern and brotherly love, Namjoon asks, “You okay?”

The younger lad didn’t nod or blink and possibly wasn’t breathing when he muttered out, “Yes. I’ve had 23 cups of coffee and no sleep since you told me to pick this up.” Drilling stares into the wedding ring as he held them out for Namjoon to take.

“That was a week ago,” Namjoon furrowed his brows. Jimin’s lips were drying, lids twitching and caffeine wasping around the air he’s in.

Jungkook barges in through the groom’s dressing room with colors drained out his face and limbs to grumble out loud, “...if I have to hear one more dad joke from Seokjin hyung, I'm shoving the microphone down my throat.”

Everyone is urging Namjoon to hurry up. There are four boys surrounding him, making sure his belts and vests are in place, hair neat and blazers ready by the racks for the wedding. But quick is quick enough, it seems, from all the fatigue expressions and impatient sighs escaping his close friend’s lips. What else could go wrong, right?

Taehyung fits his head through the door gap and blinked rapidly while everyone fussed all over Namjoon, the groom. If you need another confirmation because everyone's in their suit and ready to be wed off, he stammers the words out, “so uhhh, you know how it feels to grab air in a cookie jar that it just traumatizes you so you don't look at any cookie jar the same way?”

Jungkook frowns at him and paying no more than 2 seconds of a glance over him, “What are you going on about...”

“Which brand.” Hoseok sprung his head up from tying Namjoon’s laces. Taehyung mentions the brand and momentarily coos over his favourite biscuit by the brand and totally forgetting why he was here in the first place.

Yoongi fixing Namjoon’s belt, gets increasingly impatient with all the chit chat so he goes, “What cookie jar. I asked you to find the bride.”

“Oh yeah! I’m getting there. So uhh i went to fetch her and I opened the door and she wasn’t there,” Taehyung tattles, gave his brothers a lopsided smile, rocking his body back and forth like a toddler.

Everyone thunders, “WHAT?!”

Namjoon shakes his head, tucking his shirt in, “oH HELL NAW NOT TODAY...”

Taehyung resumes, “That’s an hour ago actually. I’m too scared to look again.”

Jungkook mutters curses under his breath like a disappointed father of the bride. As they all scurried out in their best suits, vests and whatnot, they passed by Seokjin who is entertaining the guests, standing on the altar as the appointed emcee. Well, last minute appointed emcee.

Seokjin covering the microphone and hissing Jungkook’s name. Urgency blares through his face as his ears turning red at the silence and awkward cough from the audience. He growls through his gritted teeth, and grinding jaws,

“What the fuck is going on.”

“We’re looking for the bride.” Jungkook begins to chew his lips and the insides of his cheeks till it made dimples out on display. He is anxious and he couldn’t hide it.

“Where the FUCK is she!” Seokjin thundered in hushes.

“We don’t know. Try to tell more jokes and keep them entertained while we look,” Hoseok spoke in haste.

“I’m running out of dad jokes!” Seokjin groaned.

“You. Can. Do. It. Fighting!” Jimin brings two balled fists and puffed his cheeks with cutesy while he could feel Seokjin would rather dig a hole underneath him right now to be buried in. Maybe recite his own eulogy while he’s at it.

Everyone spreads out. Jungkook’s long legs lunges out the wide field. Wearing a frown on his handsome and delectable face. Hoseok looking through every door in the hall and calling your name before each room, even stumbled upon a couple playing hooky in one. Namjoon and Yoongi searched the cafeterias and dining hall, both wearing anxiety on their sculptured faces. Taehyung is supposed to be following Jungkook but he got distracted by a pretty flower and took a picture of it. Okay, let’s be real, several pictures of it. Heck a damn gallery. And Jimin being the only one who claps and laughs at Seokjin’s jokes, falling back in his chair with tears in his eyes. While Seokjin... well, he’s managing.

By then, Yoongi’s wife begins tapping wildly on her phone into the chatroom they share, because she might have an idea on where you could and might be.

Mrs. Min: Guys I think she’s tending to Hammsi, I’ll lead her away once I found her and she’s reassured him... Yoongi: Hammsi? Her cactus? Her echeveria succulents? Mrs. Min: He’s very important to her... Namjoon: Isksjskdjdkkdksjs Namjoon: Am I not important to her???

Namjoon is (furiously) typing... Taehyung is typing...

Namjoon: really? Tending her first boyfriend on our wedding day Taehyung: I chime in bc i saw joon’s chin out from across the fountain view Taehyung: whats happening people Taehyung: oh

Mrs. Min was right. You were watering the little cactus, affectionately named Harmssi.

“I’ve neglected you haven’t I...” you were pouring water on Harmssi, “No I don’t love you less than I love him, don’t say such things. He has his bonsais.”

It was then Namjoon’s rib got nudged by his friends. Then he got pushed into the little nursery by the hall, forced to coax his wife out her affairs with her cactus.

“I can’t believe she’s late for our wedding because she’s talking to Hammssi,” Namjoon straightens his vest and neatens his hair. As if he needed to. “Take it out on the honeymoon,” Yoongi hissed from behind him and went to hiding when you turned around. Namjoon slapped a smile as if he was there alone all along. He waves the boys away and they scurried. Except Taehyung. Who had to be dragged away.

“Hey booboo,” Namjoon starts with a pet name, hoping you haven't changed your mind about marrying him. “I’m sorry, I’m stalling the wedding am I?” You placed Hammssi on his little stone, avoiding eye contact with Namjoon. “Wha—No! We’re totally fine, they can wait a few more minutes,” Namjoon adds a nervous cackle at the end hoping he hasn’t fucked it up yet. “It’s just,” you paused, thumbing your echeveria leaves and that one tiny sprout still growing, “Hammssi had been with me for so long and he’s heard many stories about you and all the things we did... like he’s my best friend whom I check on and greet every morning and the one I say goodnight to before I sleep, and it just dawned on me that how things are going to change now.”

Namjoon’s palpitating heart begins to soften when he’s heard your reasons on being here instead of the altar. You were always stuck with one sided love for so long that you begin to be afraid of falling. You poured your heart and soul to little potted green friends because they never disappoint. Like humans do.

And it made sense to him because that’s what he felt too. To his bonsais. Nurturing is love too, you know.

“Apart from giving kisses to actual lips, and someone who can verbally speak back to you, nothing much is going to change. It doesn’t have to...” Namjoon trudges forward in small lunges, hands behind his back, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I’m all in, and I’m afraid,” you watched your hand being held in his and he presses kisses on each of your knuckles while screwing his eyes shut. “What if one day you decide that I’m not good enough? What if one day you wake up and realised you don’t love me anymore? What do I do then? Where do I go with all this love?” “You come home...” he said, in murmurs, eyes glancing down at you, as he towers over your entire height, “And you remind me that we’re each other’s home. You yank me by the arms and you show me that I belong to you.”

The henna on your hand that he traces sensually, and stamped a lingering kiss on, that simple gesture signifies his ultimate devotion to you. With this kiss, he surrendered.

“Can we please get married now? If I had to deal with another year of complete abstinence I’m going to lose my mind.”

Present day, six years of marriage and nothing changes. He runs his fingers through his luscious locks of hair, sweaty forehead and slick chest, leaning against the headboard while you drew random shapes round and round his perky nipples.

“I told you we didn’t have to change the sheets yet,” he sighs, head fell thud on the wood behind him and a kiss on your hair. Your henna fits well on his clawed, naked chest with some bruises blossoming as the time ticks by.

“You think they’re pretty?” You held your hand out so you both could see the designs. “They’re pretty because you wore them, remember that...” he takes them and zooms his face to your nails next, “Have they always been that long?” “Yeah, if I shortened them more, it’ll bleed... why?”

“RIP my skin then, I guess...” he mewls.

The first thing he said on the night you spent together after the wedding, that still lingers in your head when you took more than 2 minutes to take out a block. You are probably the only girl in the world that at your horniest hours, chose to play Jenga on your first night with your fully wedded husband. Namjoon was resting on his stomach while you played your turn, getting bored out of waiting,

“Are you done yet?” “Nope... okay now I am.”

Namjoon knocks those Jenga tower down to the floor cold, and

“Whoops.” “You did that on purpose!” “Guess I gotta make out with you now. What a tragedy.” He crawls on all four, in your lap, sneering above you.

We’re definitely done, now.

copyright (c) 2019 namjoonchronicles, do not repost -- I know I haven’t been writing a lot, and thank you for being this patience... this story was birthed by a conversation I had with @ayixha a while ago. I had lots of bad days now, and this conversation made me smile and thought of sharing them with you lovely friends

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lizzybeth1986 · 5 years

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Quick Thoughts on The Royal Heir, Book 1 Chapter 1

• We're back! Hopefully with a better series this time, but I'm not going to keep my hopes too high.

• If my QTs are clogging up your dash, I recommend you block these particular tags: #trh quick thoughts, #trh qts, and optionally #long post.

• Much like my Book 3 QTs, I will be exploring as many playthroughs as I possibly can to see how each LI's route is being written. Last book, this experiment definitely helped me figure out that they were putting more effort into some characters and less into others, and I'd still like to keep an eye out for these things as much as possible.

• I feel this QT might be shorter than my usual (edit: joke's on me - it's not!! 🙈), mostly because the opening chapter itself is...pretty light, and is mostly meant for us to spend time and have fun with our chosen LI. Plus a tiny smidgen of buildup to the premise, which is having a child in Cordonia. But I do have a theory about the overall theme that I'm going to be expanding on towards the end of the chapter.

• Okay that's it for preliminary explanations, it's time for me to start with the chapter! XD

• Ooh. Oooooooh. This loading page now has tidbits about Cordonian society!! Interesting.

• Title: Happily Ever Afterwards

Alternative Title: Be Grateful We're Letting You Have This Much Sex For Free This Week, Because That's The Last Time It's Happening.

• I'm extremely offended they're making me wear that Pepto Bismol outfit again.

•

...thanks so much for reminding me you still don't care about Hana, PB! 🙄 Everyone else remains to be some version of "loyal", but Hana is still considered more for her skills than for her own steadfastness, even though she was the most hardcore-loyal of the four (SHE LEFT HER FREAKING HOME. HER FREAKING FAMILY. FOR YOU. While the other three were certainly loyal and honorable to the MC, they definitely didn't have to completely cut ties with their families to do right by the MC).

• The "fairytale" aesthetics of the frame story were what drew people into TRR in the first place, so it's not too surprising that the LIs and MC give a nod to the flagship series with a "once upon a time". If you're with Liam, it goes straight from "falling in love with the Prince" to what his relationship with her taught him, before the happily ever after. If you're with one of the other three LIs, it specifies that she came there for Liam but fell for someone else. Sounds a lot like Maxwell's book 😄 In Maxwell's playthrough, in fact, there is a reference to it when the MC calls him a "famous author".

•

(Screenshots organized as follows: 1 - Liam, 2 - Drake, 3 - Maxwell, 4 - Hana. Liam's and Hana's are my own. Drake's from @thefirstcourtesan, and Maxwell's from Kaitlyn Walker's YouTube channel).

The other interesting thing to note is that in Liam's playthrough, he leads the narration. While in everyone else's the MC is the one who steers it. One reason I can think of is that the narrative still treats this story as Liam's story as much as it is the MC's (if I'm right about the theme) - which...has honestly always been a sore point with the fanbase in TRR. That would depend on how us and our baby are now further involved with Cordonia in the story. Another factor for why she leads the narration...could be that essentially, the MC took initiative in the other three relationships, while in Liam's case it was he who took a more active role by proposing to her.

• The little story ends with this question from the MC:

Question: But what happens after Happily Ever After?

Answer: Mess. In Cordonia it's always mess.

• Cordonians (specifically the upper classes, since I don't know enough about the common populace to tell, since they're, yknow, practically invisible) are addicted to tea, apples and fucking shit up where they don't even need to.

• ANYWAY. What (literally) happens after 'happily ever after' is a tropical honeymoon on Liam's private island. In the case of the other three, he allows them access to the place and gives the staff instructions on making the stay comfortable for them.

• Now, since Liam owns the island and has probably visited it a could times, he shows more familiarity with it. He tells his wife that on previous trips the island had more rustic accommodations, but the villa they're now staying in was prepared recently. Additionally, the butler welcomes Hana, Maxwell and Drake as newcomers to the island, considering it's their first time. With Liam, there is an air of familiarity - he calls the butler by his name (Javier) and enquires about him and his wife (Mariana) - to show us perhaps how familiar he is with this holiday spot.

• Why the hell does everyone call Liam "Your Highness"? It's been two whole books since he became King, and the proper title for a monarch is "Your Majesty". How is it that Constantine gets to rake the MC over the coals for calling him Your Highness, yet Liam has to hear this from practically everyone. From Javier to freakin' Protocol-Monitor-Madeleine! The disrespect, I tell you!

• Okay so we're having a candlelit dinner by the ocean, and we get our first OOTD. Cute beach dress, has bright flowers and some crochet work on the bodice. I bought it because I couldn't bear to have Esther stay another minute in that Pepto Bismol of a dress.

• LOL @ all the LI responses to "this spot is right where the sharks are!"

• Tuna sashimi and pineapple aioli, huh? I have never had either so idek what that's supposed to taste like (someone on this writing team likes pineapples). I remember having to cut down on tuna during pregnancy, which meant no more Subway sandwiches since the tuna sub was the only one I liked at the time. IIRC most of my family were also cautioning me against pineapples and papaya during my first trimester!

• My gosh this butler doesn't waste much time jumping into assumptions huh?

• Also Javier, why is Cordonia's future so dependent on the well-being of my foetus even if I'm not ruling the country?

• Does Cordonia have sex ed? My money is on no. (esp in the Hana route).

• So there are two parts to the way the premise of wanting to have kids is built up in this sequence. In the first part, the LI impresses upon the MC the need to have children soon after the wedding. The second part addresses the urgency - the "why right now?" factor, and explores the LI's personal emotions towards having children. This bit also feels a bit like a follow-up to the Valtoria balcony scene in Chapter 15.

• The first part is pretty similar for Drake, Hana and Maxwell - all three of whom are now married to a Duchess and are aware that securing the duchy is important. They word it in their own distinctive styles, but the gist is pretty much the same. In Liam's case, since he is the king of the country, he speaks more about Cordonia and its tensions with neighbouring countries.

Take note of this because I'll be returning to this point later. (also who are the writers trying to convince about Cordonia's size. "Small kingdom" my ass).

• I'll be going by the LIs' personal reasons to have a baby now, one by one, along with a summary of their views on children in the Valtoria balcony scene last book (since this scene clearly references that diamond scene if you've bought it last book).

(Screenshots: Liam's and Hana's screenshots are mine, Drake's is from @thefirstcourtesan and Maxwell's is from Kaitlyn Walker's YouTube channel)

- Liam: Liam's love for family and need for children is well-known throughout the series. In Book 1, he's dropped hints about wanting to have a different kind of family dynamic from the one he'd experienced as a child, and in Book 2 there were multiple references to wanting to not be Constantine - both as a King and as a father. In the balcony scene in Book 3, Chapter 15, Liam tells us a number of things - about the value of having more heirs for succession, of him always dreaming of having at least 3 children, about Kenna, Cordonia's most legendary warrior queen which leads to an interesting factoid about how the rules of successions for both the throne and duchies are not gender-specific (he also cites Olivia and Penelope as being in line to inherit their duchies). In this sequence Liam undoubtedly has more to say about the political aspect of having an heir than the personal, but his statement about "someone missing" in their lives is of no surprise when he's been enthusiastic about kids for three books straight.

- Drake: Drake perhaps gets the lengthiest 'personal' bit of all, revolving around his eagerness to be a father and his own family history. This scene has Drake speaking of wanting a child with "your eyes and my hair", but most of all of Savannah and her little family, and wanting the happiness his sister is experiencing now. The writing often manages to tie Drake's thoughts about his future family with his past: in the Valtoria balcony scene, his memories of his father and his desire to bring up his own kids the way Jackson did are dominant in the conversation on children. He speaks at length about the absence of a proper 'home' so far in his life (stating that his room at the palace always felt like "a room in someone else's house") and how high on his priority list the prospect of having children is. The Valtoria scene shows him eager to have kids asap, and this scene builds up the same urgency. You're left in no doubt that he wants those kids now.

• Maxwell: Maxwell's route of this scene soundly pretty sudden, tbh. In his Valtoria scene, Maxwell expressed doubt and nervousness when it came to children, citing the example of Bartie ("I love palling around with little Bartie and everything, but if he bonks his head or something, I can just hand him back to Savannah. When it's your kid, you're the one people hand him to."). While this is referenced in TRH's dialogue when Maxwell jokes about forgetting diapers and baby socks - it's a pretty big jump from the man who didn't exactly feel ready to have children yet, and not enough work was done to justify that shift. This could be somewhat excused in the beginning of Book 3, when the narrative had just begun to treat him like an LI, but they've had an entire damn book and several months after to reflect on how to write him properly. That is...if they actually gave a damn.

- Hana: They don't even have the excuse of "relatively new LI" in Hana's case. Because she is the lone female LI married to a female MC, her scene should have been a lot more extensive and explored her urgency to have children so soon after their wedding, a whole lot more. There are tiny changes, like the one where she hints at the "logistical concerns" that come with two women considering a family, and where she speaks of giving her child the childhood she never had (which, frankly, is an extremely vague statement and could be applicable to more than one character in Cordonia). But there is urgency that, again, isn't properly explained in the scene. Even Hana's Valtoria scene doesn't have much that would explain why she would want a child barely weeks after her wedding. The Valtoria scene does have her outlining her dreams for the duchy (along with a joke about her enacting "Beauty and the Beast") and her happiness at the thought of being a mother (she maintains that out of the things expected of her, motherhood is the one she looked forward to). They could have spent some time thinking up a reason for why Hana would rush this, even before anything has happened, or outlined something personal and not ultra-generic. Both Maxwell and Hana deserved a lot better than this.

• Maxwell speaks about possibly forgetting diapers (PLS NO MAXWELL NO) and baby socks (um okay not as bad but depends on the climate), and one of the MC's dialogue options is to say..."diapers and socks are overrated". Guys your kid won't care how much fun you are when they have a bum rash.

• A-ha! Diamond scene. First-chapter diamond love scenes always come cheap in these series' (12 diamonds) and are usually quite a steal.

• ESTHER HAS NEW LINGERIE OMG I'M SO HAPPY I'D BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT FOR SO LOOOOONG 😭😭😭😭

• ...and it is also matches Liam's underwear. Maxwell's too 😅

• The scene is nice, there are variations between the ways the LIs work up their appetite before they finally roll in the...well, sand 😅 Maxwell has what they call an "ocean duel", Hana's fulfills her lifelong dream of carrying and spinning around her wife on a secluded beach, Drake chases the MC through the water...and Liam just enjoys being a huuuge tease, okay? 😂

• Oh God, why are they still using the old LoveHacks sexytimes music. That "DHUM-boom-ta-doom-DHUM" beat drives me nuts, and not in a good way. You have better music now, PB! Like the sexytimes tunes from RCD and PM. Use those!

• My gosh this entire group is quite horny for dominant duchesses, aren't they. Every last one of them. Each playthrough has these four gazing at the MC in wonder and telling her some variation of "I think you ordering me around is hot". Olivia could trample over them all with spiked heels and they would thank her!

• As always, when something suspicious happens, my dumbass MC goes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and never thinks about it again until shit actually goes down. This woman will never learn, will she.

• Anyway! We now move on to the rest of the honeymoon, summed up in three-four varying scenes per LI:

(Screenshots: Liam's and Hana's screenshots are mine, Drakes is HIMEME's YouTube channel, and Maxwell's is from Kaitlyn Walker's YouTube channel).

- Liam: Focused and dedicated. And insatiable as hell. Sex on a bed (SHOCKING!), sex after his wife points out what could be an apple constellation during stargazing (the MC effectively killed Liam's boner for Cordonia, I see), sex after having chocolate strawberries at a sunlit pond, sex again on a bed (Why is he getting four? 🤔). While the staff is still around somewhere on the island. This is a man with a mission.

- Maxwell: Fun and playful - kind of a "let's live wild and do daredevilry while we can!" vibe. In one Maxwell and the MC cliff dive into the ocean, debating over the wisdom of such risky adventuring when they may possibly be having a baby. In another, the MC watches, concerned, as Maxwell eats a raw squid appetizer. There is a nice callback to Maxwell's House sigil - the kraken - when he tells her that a squid would never hurt a fellow squid. The third shows them playing Strip Monopoly in the comfort of their bedroom.

- Hana: Adorable, caring and looking through every detail. Hana's three scenes involve her showing the MC the sights around the sunlit pond (which Hana and the MC lovingly call the "Hana Lee Honeymoon Itinerary"), watching the sunset under blankets, and this little scene of them choosing sperm donors for their baby:

It's a nice addition, but it still doesn't explain why they couldn't have waited a few more months. Nothing has happened yet in the timeline of the story, the women are (they believe) finally safe and happy, and while Javier seems to believe that babies born to a couple that consists of two women pop out of nowhere, I'm hoping the denizens of their duchy will have at least a little more common sense (this is Cordonia, so "hope" is the operative word).

- Drake: Langorous, relaxed and contented. Stargazing on the beach (I wonder whether this was a nod to the meteor shower scene in Book 1), whiskey on a patio/balcony/whatever in the afternoon, and eating roasted pork by the fire. Plenty of sex but also lots of outdoors, which means lots of the stuff Drake enjoys doing.

• Aaaaaand it's time for sexy scene 2! The couple are now relaxing in bed on the last day of their honeymoon, and the LI proposes a momento in the form of a sensual photoshoot (which comes with artwork of the LI in their underwear, posing for the MC) The male LIs pose with their hands at the back of their heads, smirking at the camera, while Hana strikes a coy pose, leaning against her hand. It's a quick, fun scene that's supposed to squeeze as much alone-time out of the couple as possible, because from here on the focus may shift to other things. Basically this chapter is meant to be one giant (but largely safe for readers) smutfest. I like the artwork - it's different and I guess meant to be a little more realistic than the usual full-page art in the books (like the engagement and wedding photos with your LIs last book), which is why I think it takes a little getting used to. I know it took me some time!

• Maxwell got an underwear upgrade too!

• We've now come to the end of our honeymoon, our bags packed and ready for our return to Cordonia. The chapter ends with us seeing a "familiar face", who could either be Liam (if you married someone else, and he doesn't show any expression) or an unspecified person (if you married Liam, and he looks ultra happy). Now that could either be related to some paparazzi-related stuff, if the flash of light was paparazzi-related, or it could be a fake-out and he's actually brought along the rest of the gang to surprise you. Idk and I don't want to speculate too much on this, mostly because something more interesting caught my eye.

• So that's it for my thoughts on the scenes themselves! On to the "general thoughts" section.

• General Thoughts and Potential Theories:

- As a first chapter for a new series that is still tied to an older one, it worked. It mirrors the light feel and sensibility of TRR's very first chapter, in that both chapters build an illusion of a fairytale-like place, with hints of the darkness within emerging the next chapter onwards (in this series though - since we're already familiar with Cordonia - the darkness is lightly hinted at this chapter itself). In a lot of ways I think we're going to see a lot of parallels between TRR and this new series.

- Unfortunately, one of those similarities also includes the imbalance in the writing for the LIs. Specifically with Maxwell and Hana. It's the most glaring in the dinner scene, which builds for us the premise on which this entire book stands (the topic of pregnancy). There are ways you could have them make the jump from nervous about having kids to excited, if you tried - there are elements in their storyline that could have helped us understand their urgency.

- I played Liam's route first, and was happy overall with it but I still have my misgivings. The good in terms of Liam's story is that he gets importance because the story is also about him and his country, where we are staying. He gives us some very important details in his route, and personally I like that his role as Guide To The Intricacies And Nuances of Cordonian Society still exists...but you can't deny that there were things in his storyline which should have been addressed and never were. I hope those are addressed this book. If they do the same this time around, it will only be to their detriment.

- Also, I find it highly ironic that Drake is the one to mention Savannah and Bartie when it was MAXWELL who was more involved in helping her with the child. Sure, he was - as he confessed in that Valtoria scene - more the "fun uncle" type, but he was still pretty heavily involved. Still keeping track of what Savannah needed and what Bartie would want. In his own final Book 3 scene, Maxwell is shown having an amazing rapport with little Bartie, playing peekaboo with his nose. I can barely count scenes involving Drake and Bartie with the fingers of one hand. Why couldn't Maxwell reference that last moment in Book 3, drawing up some inspirational moment from it? Like spending more and more time with Bartie changed the way he felt about kids? Or maybe that Savannah or Bertrand said something regarding the joy children bring to him. Anything that gives us some idea of when this shift happened.

Maxwell may have been new last book. It may have been a struggle to know what to do with him last book. But that isn't the case right now. By now they should have settled in their writing of him and figured out ways to make his story make sense? To give him more depth rather than simply reducing the man to the court jester? Maxwell's story was supposed to be about him growing, the scene in Valtoria was supposed to be about wanting to be a good father for his future children but fearing he might fail...yet the writers have the same man say the exact opposite. Maxwell's family history was thrown away for no good reason last book, and was replaced by Savannah drama. There was more space given to Savannah's love story with Bertrand (which didn't NEED the entire book to gain fruition) and Drake (optionally) enjoying humiliating Bertrand. That time, energy and effort could have gone in building up Maxwell, getting an insight into what happened to the Beaumonts that they became so poor...but no. The only Beaumont that mattered seems to be Savannah (and we know exactly why). And going by the fact that they're going to force an entire wedding storyline involving Bertrand and Savannah down our throats, that still seems to be the case.

- Hana's is even more worrying considering that it was poles apart from the rest of the playthroughs and therefore SHOULD have had more thought. Yes Hana loves the idea of being a mother. Yes Hana loves children and has a nurturing nature. But the urgency is still the same as the others' in her playthrough, and it made absolutely no sense. There was a clear dissonance between their current situation and the rush these two were in.

Hana's deserved at least some more time in her dinner scene. Maybe one where she could speak about growing up an only child, with no companions and not even toys. She could explain the loneliness involved in having a small family with parents who gave her more duties than affection, and then speak about giving her kid a better childhood. There isn't even any discussion about which of them should be the person carrying (we know it will be the MC, but why it has to be her in their case is anyone's guess).

What the team have done here is give Hana the bare minimum, after an entire two books of giving her even less than that. I know I'll probably be judged for thinking negatively rather than being cautiously optimistic, but the fact is that the moment this team feels they can get away with tossing scraps or less than that, they can and will do it. It's not stopped them before: not from botching up Hana's storyline, not from giving Hana fans a reception full of goof-ups and shoddy writing, not from pairing her with her bully. Perhaps last year I would have been happy and grateful to see Hana and the MC calling each other "my wife". This time...I refuse to settle for just mere scraps. If you can give thought and care to Liam and Drake's storylines, you'd better be able to do the same for Hana and Maxwell, otherwise what's the point of reviving this book? What's the point of using Hana specifically in two of your ads as bait for your lesbian/bi/wlw fans?? Might as well let the entire series rot in the trash where it belongs in that case.

- I've heard theories about our child becoming heir to the throne, thanks to a possible future arc that may make Liam unable to have children. I personally hate this possible plot line for two reasons:

1. As it is the MC gets more importance than she deserves, whether or not she actually puts in the work. She becomes a front-runner during the social season even if she fails. She becomes a Duchess even if she lacks even the most basic skills, while Hana who has done way more than she ever had for the country gets nothing, not even a needle-point's worth of land. She becomes Champion of the Realm even if she is literal garbage throughout that book, when that title could have easily gone to Olivia or Hana instead if she didn't earn enough to get it. And now to have her kid be made an heir to the throne? For no good reason? Get outta here.

2. Forcing Liam into yet another storyline that is tragic and painful (and I'm pretty sure the writers will find yet another excuse to write a thesis on Drake Walker in the time they could be using to let Liam actually break down, or vent. If they couldn't be bothered to explore the man's feelings when his own father died, do you really think they will bother with him in this??) on top of whatever else he's had to experience so far? At this point I can do with less of that. I'm honestly sick of storylines that put Liam in very uncomfortable, painful situations with very little space for him to air out his grief. Give the man a fucking break. Let him have some breathing space to rule his goddamned kingdom, get him a fantastic therapist and get him better friends while he's at it. Pushing him into yet another messed-up situation when you've barely even scratched the surface with what his experiences have done to him, is really just drama for the sake of drama, nothing else.

- Nonetheless, since this is about a pregnancy and a future heir, I believe there will be plenty talk about succession, and about the importance given to fertility and children in Cordonian society. But as with the social season in Book 1, the engagement tour in Book 2, and the wedding + Unity Tour in Book 3, I believe the pregnancy itself is a frame story. The kind of story that justifies the glitz, the glitter, and the glamorous events...that can serve as a temporary gloss to cover the conflicts within. All while the inner stories reveals those conflicts, layer by layer (again, if it's done right. Book 3 is a good example of a great premise ruined by bad writing. I sincerely hope this book does not go in that direction).

- Remember those screenshots I put up in that dinner scene from Liam's route? About Cordonia's tensions with its neighbouring countries, and how the country may be viewed as vulnerable? I think that's where the actual theme of the story lies.

Books 1 and 2 mostly revolved around the illusion of Cordonia - the fairytale kingdom - before the MC herself is confronted with the tensions brewing within. Book 3 was about strengthening Cordonia through resolution of internal conflict. It was about learning about the intricacies of the country, its most powerful duchies, their histories and identities, Cordonia's messy, complicated history - to tackle the problems that lay within.

I feel like Book 4 would be taking a natural progression from resolving internal conflict to finally standing united as a nation against outside forces. Constantine - in his conversation with the MC in Shanghai - hints not only at groups within Cordonia that wanted to destroy the monarchy, but also foreign powers ("suffice to say there are those who envy Cordonia's prosperity...". Not the royal family's - but "Cordonia's").

Keeping a united front and showcasing strength through pride in the country - ergo 'patriotism', or perhaps 'national integration' since Cordonia is home to many different cultures and geographical locations (I originally wrote 'nationalism here, but now realize there may be negative connotations attached to that word in today's times: thanks @musicallisto!) is often viewed as an asset against alien forces. The MC is now a part of the monarchy/nobility, and will be irrevocably tied to the country's future - so it makes sense that she will now dig into the deepest and most intimate parts of Cordonia's history, and go several steps further in helping to unite the nation.

- Why do I theorize 'patriotism' or 'national integration' as being a theme? There are several reasons for this:

The Unresolved Storylines: We still have a ways to go in understanding Cordonian history. We don't know which other forces were involved in previous assassinations, and we don't have a clue what happened to Liam's mother. All we do know is that other people and groups that we have probably not even seen yet, may have been involved. Francesco (who also knew Liam's mother) and Xinghai, the only foreign delegates/visitors that we got to network with in Book 2, have minimal roles so far but SEEM to have had some influence when they were introduced earlier. Francesco particularly could have some sort of role to play, given what we were told about him in Book 2. Now would be a good time to explore why he needed contacts with these people (other than the fact that Xinghai is Hana's dad). It's possible that nothing will happen and we may not even see these two, or exchange any important information, but I'd still hope that there is some importance to their appearances in Book 2.

The Connections We Made In The Engagement Tour: Meeting Francesco in Capri was related to getting access to EU markets for Cordonian products. The engagement tour itself revolved around grabbing international attention towards Cordonian problems - one of which was the tsunami that hit Portavira, which we learn more about in Book 3. There is a possibility that these threads may be picked up in the future.

Both the above points hint at possible threats, or allies. At this point we can't exactly determine who is friend and who is foe, but it is clear that neighbouring countries - and indeed countries we have associated with in the past - will play a pretty big role in the way we view Cordonia, and in the way we direct the narrative of this country.

The Artwork: I love this part of my theory because it is the most based on actual evidence rather than guesswork. The idea of a nation depends as much on items of familiarity and symbols, as it does on history. It's why countries have national animals, anthems, fruits. Why art depicting national and local legends can often be considered almost sacred. The book has barely even begun yet, and already it is FILLED with all kinds of things symbolic to Cordonia.

Let's first take a peek at the cover art:

Now let's ignore Liam's and Drake's (busted) faces in this cover and focus on what the three are holding.

The MC holds a rattle in her hand, and the jewel within the rattle looks similar to a ruby, which has been associated more than once with apples in the story (Cordonia's most valued variety of apple is the Cordonian Ruby, Liam's wedding gift to the MC is a ruby in the shape of an apple. The same rattle shows up in the second cover [on the left] as well. It's a stretch, I know, but I've got better evidence. Stick with me).

Liam holds a onesie with a crown design on the front - and we know that "for crown and country" is a popular phrase, especially for toasts, in Cordonia. Drake holds out a toy lion: the lion is the national animal, and holds a place of pride in the national Coat-of-Arms. The throne on which the MC herself sits, is blue and gold - both considered national colours. That's at least 4 symbols related to Cordonia vying for our attention on the same cover!

I mean, even Book 3 had just two major symbols - the apple (related to Cordonia) and the phoenix gown (related to Valtoria) - featuring on its cover.

The biggest proof to me, however, is not the cover, but the loading page. To be more precise - what is written above that loading page. A number of Choices books (BB, for instance) write little factoids about the world they are building above the loading bar, which players can read while they're waiting for the chapter to load. This wasn't a common practice with TRR, but they've definitely started it now! Some of the commentary is usual stuff - about gaining advantages through outfits, welcoming you back to Cordonia, etc...but THIS TIME there are tidbits of information given to us as well. And 80% of those involve apples!

Here are a few I managed to catch. One fact on the importance of apples in Cordonian culture, two specifically on the Cordonian Ruby itself including a rare recipe, and two old proverbs (this isn't the only time we've heard apple-related proverbs in the books - in Book 3 for instance, Bertrand refers to their trip to Fydelia as 'slicing two apples with one knife'). Proverbs in general often give us an idea of what people within a region hold up as important, as so connected to their life experiences that they can use those familiar objects as motifs for things that they see in daily life (eg. proverbs in my home state, Kerala, often refer to things/animals we find locally: jasmines, coconuts, jackfruit, dogs, elephants).

The fact that the apple features so often and with such emphasis in the loading page itself - and we have already seen what this simple fruit means to Cordonia - indicates to me that this national symbol - and the idea of the nation itself - will be of great importance. Not only will we be exploring foreign relations, IMO, but we'll also be learning how to build a national narrative that will benefit and strengthen Cordonia.

What's also interesting is that the apple symbolizes fertility to the Cordonian people as well - the apple cutting ceremony during a wedding (as explained by Regina to Leo's fiancée in RoE) is "a symbol of the fruit the tree will bear - you being the tree, of course", and there are chances that the fruit may feature often within the context of pregnancy/having children as well.

• That's all for now, guys. I hope to write more and theorize more as the chapters progress! Until then, I hope you enjoy this one, and I'd love to hear what you have to say.

• I did the Hana screenshots for this chapter, since the first chapter allows me to play repeatedly within losing keys, but I won't be able to do so from Chapter 2 onwards. If there are any Hana fans out there who keep screenshots of scenes in their route and are interested in sharing, I'd love to hear from you and will definitely credit you for the screenshots I put up!

• If you'd like to be tagged in future QTs, please let me know! Tagging @nikkisha16 for now since she asked xD

• Until Saturday, folks!

#long post #trh quick thoughts #the royal heir #trh qts #king liam #liam x mc #hana lee #hana x mc #maxwell beaumont #maxwell x mc #drake walker #drake x mc

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lo-55 · 3 years

Text

Here There Be Dragons Ch. 2

Return to Hanamura

Jesse was cutting it close when he returned to Hanamura in under a two weeks. If Reyes had seen him he would have boxed his ears and told him how stupid he was. If Genji had seen it he would have demanded to know what tail Jesse was chasing.

How could he explain that it was a dragon’s?

The young man had left his hat and his serape in his bag this time, despite the chance of the headwear being crushed around with what few personal items he kept with him. There was next to nothing he owned that he couldn't replace. His hat, his favorite red serape, Peacekeeper, and now the glittering dragon scale that weighed down his pocket.

Jesse didn’t have the poetry of words to describe why it was so important that he return and see the dragon once more. It was a bone deep need, and ache that buried itself into his lungs until breathing was difficult without thinking of the magic he’d seen.

Something deep inside his gut dragged him back to Hanamura, in the darkness of the moonless, clouded night. Jesse had always trusted his gut, it hadn’t lead him wrong yet. Not when he was a lawless brat running around the red desert, not when he was a Blackwatch agent fighting to repent.

Not now, when he was nothing more than Jesse McCree, he had no one and nothing to trust except for his insides.

His shoulder wasn’t healing well. He should have gone to a doctor, but there was no one in the country he was sure he could trust. Angela was off in war zones, and even if she wasn’t with Overwatch’s break up he wasn’t sure she wanted to see any of them these days. She never had liked their violent tendencies.

Jesse shook his head and pulled his hood closer to his face, hopping around a corner to approach the castle for the third time. The vice on his ribs started to ease when he came into sight of it’s high walls. It was hard to make out in the dark of the night, but Jesse could see well enough. He moves quickly, quietly, crossing the near deserted street until he was standing at the gate once more.

He lay his metal hand against it and pushed. It swung opened without a hassle, setting his teeth on edge. The hair on his arms stood up. The quiet creak of wood brought his eyes and his gun up to his right. Down the barrel a man stood, bow pulled back to his jaw. Dark eyes narrowed at Jesse down the shaft of a wickedly pointed arrow.

If Jesse was being honest, he’d take being shot with a bullet over an arrow anyday.

“Go no further!” the stranger ordered, his voice sharply accented in english. “Intruders will be dealt with harshly.”

Jesse’s mouth twitched upwards. He couldn't see many features, but the scowl was audible.

“You live here, darlin’?” he asked, making a show of keeping his shoulders lax. “I ain’t plannin’ on causin’ any trouble.”

“You cannot enter here. Invaders will be cut down. Leave now!” the man snapped harshly. His eyes flashed in the darkness.

“Well now, I don’t see why we got to have conflict,” Jesse tried to pacify the man in the dark. If he was one of the folks that was after Jesse’s head, he’d have already shot him. He had gotten the drop on the cowboy. Only Genji could do that. This man, whoever he was, was dangerous.

Above him, thunder rolled. Unlike the thunder he had heard before it didn’t beat through his bones, it shattered overheard, bringing with it a storm. Rain came down in a sheet that soaked Jesse all the way through in a matter of seconds.

“Well, shoot,” he tilted his head ever so slightly, but did not take his eyes off of the man in front of him. “An’ here I am without a hotel room.”

“Then you had best get one,” the stranger told him harshly. Jesse was inclined to agree. Still, Jesse turned a crooked smile on him, adjusting his weight to lean a smidge closer. The Stranger drew back instead of shooting him. So he didn’t want to kill Jesse? Funny.

“It’d be mighty kind of you to let me stay a night,” he drawled, all in jest.

“I told you, intruder’s will be executed!” his temper was showing in his voice. There was something else there too, something frayed. “You saw the dragon before. He will be summoned once more if you go further.”

Jesse ran his fingers through his hair, wildness slicked down to his skull. “The way I see it darlin’, I ain’t an intruder if I’m invited here.”

There was a beat of silence. The rain came down in a blanket of water. Beating an off tempo on the shingles and the concrete. It was hard to hear anything through it, even as his implants adjusted to picked up in between raindrops.

“I do not know if that would work,” the stranger said at last. Then, “What is your name?”

“McCree,” he should have lied, his brain said. His gut said that he needed to tell the truth. “Jesse McCree. Pleasure.”

The bow slowly came back from it’s draw, arrow pointing to the ground. His hand touched the gate, sending it further open. Inside the dirt was dark with water, the plants bent over heavy with it. Jesse couldn’t quite make out what they were, and he hadn’t been looking very closely on his last two visits.

“You have seen the guardian of this place, and you still wish to enter?” Jesse’s new friend asked. Jesse nodded. Peacekeeper slipped back in her holster. There was a sigh. “Then I, Shimada Hanzo, invite you to this castle.”

Shimada. That was Genji’s name.

Jesse tried to remember if he was supposed to bow, since he couldn't very well tip his hat, and settled on inclining his head with a smile he hoped could be seen.

“Thank ya kindly,” Jesse stepped inside, trying not to favor his side to obviously. He’d almost healed the graze there, but the excitement of holding someone at gunpoint had aggravated it, and his shoulder. Blood started to pool under his shirt.

“Only until it is safe to leave,” the stranger, Hanzo, added. Jesse dipped his head in acknowledgement. He could deal with those terms. Though, it was hard to say when ‘safe’ would be. When it stopped raining? Or when people stopped shootin at him?

Lightning lit up the yard, treating Jesse to a glimpse of Hanzo’s face. A flash of brown eyes, long, tar black hair, and clean shaven cheeks. He was watching Jesse, like he was waiting for something. Then the darkness swallowed him again.

“Don’t s’ppose we could go in the buildings?” He put forth. Bleeding in the rain sounded about as fun as being shot again. Jesse was the child of red rocks and dust storms. Rain was a rarity, and brought flash floods with it more times than not. He didn’t care for it much.

“Yes,” Hanzo moved in the darkness. Jesse felt more than saw where he went, and trailed after him. He was quiet as a cat, light footed and quick. Jesse felt clumsy and unsteady behind him.

He knew, at least, to take his shoes off when they reached the door and leave them where the mud wouldn’t track. He did feel a bit bad about all the water dripping off of his long coat. He shed that too, leaving him in just his clothes and armor.

An oil lamp lit, illuminating the long hallway in a soft light. Jesse stuck one hand in his pocket, fingers brushing the smooth scale that lay within for some semblance of comfort.

The room he followed Hanzo in was so perfectly clean Jesse didn’t believe that anyone had been there for years. Like his mama’s parlor, something he’d only ever seen from a distance. There wasn’t the rosy wall paper or the pale couch he’d be smacked if he so much as thought about touching, but it gave off the same forbidding feeling.

Jesse felt like he had no place here, despite being invited in.

Hanzo turned towards him, giving Jesse time enough to get a good look. He was pretty in the flickering light of the small flame. Black hair was tied loosely at the base of his neck, besides the long bangs that framed his face. And what a face. Cut into perfect skin was a sharply carved mouth, drawn into a harsh line that set beneath a pair of fathomless eyes, such a dark brown they bordered on black. Gold sparked within them, along with something else. Something Jesse couldn’t identify.

His clothes were traditional, from what little Jesse knew about Japan. A white, folding shirt tucked into brown pants, that went into red shin guards. On his left shoulder was tied a long orange sleeve, on his right was another piece of armor. Strong muscles showed in the gap from there to the lone arm guard and the thick black gloves.

He was built strong, even though he was a couple inches shorter, standing in front of him Jesse had no doubt this man could hold his own in a fight. Broader shoulders than Jesse’s supported a quiver full of smartly fletched arrows, matching the bow that hung in his hand proudly.

All this an here Jesse stood, soaked in a black long sleeve shirt and his jeans. His armor was the only interesting thing about him, with his hat and his serape in the bag.

Well, his belt buckle too, which Hanzo was staring at very intently.

“Bamf?” he pronounced the whole word carefully. Dark brows drew together, furrowed in confusion. Jesse withheld a laugh at him.

“It’s an acronym,” Jesse gripped and tilted it so it caught the light, showing it off, “Pardon the language, but I am a ‘bad ass mother fucker’.”

Hanzo stared at him, mouth twitching ever so slightly. “How many children do you have?”

This time, Jesse couldn't help it. He started to laugh, hard, bending from it. His shoulder throbbed, turning the laugh into a choke. Shit.

He looked up to see if Hanzo had taken offense, and was rewarded a smile. Good. He hadn’t noticed the shoulder either. Jesse stood up, hooked his thumbs in his pocket’s and gave the man an easy smile.

“None a’tall,” he didn’t think he needed to ask if Hanzo did. The whole castle was clearly deserted, save this one person and the dragon protector. Where in gods name the dragon came from Jesse couldn’t even begin to fathom. He knew there were things in the world he wouldn’t understand, things he shouldn’t mess with.

Jesse knew a part of the gorge, a little ways before the train cut into the mountain, where no one dared to step foot. A little cut in the red rock where it was more red than the dust, a darker type that didn’t come from rusty dirt. Back when the tracks had been put down for the first time, hundreds of years ago, some of the workers had gotten it in their heads to unionize. They hadn’t lived past their first strike.

That was just closest to home. There were ghost towns all over the southwest, places with bloody history that set his teeth on edge. Certain towns where he wasn’t sure if he felt like he was being watched by the living or the dead. Folks thought he was crazy for refusing to drive through the west past midnight, but he’d been too close to death before not to beware La Mala Hora. He would swear up and down that he’d seen a woman in white at the shores of the Pecos.

There was more, once he stepped out into the world. He had never seen anything so blatant as a dragon before, but there was some shit he couldn’t deny wasn’t natural. His own goddamn eye had no reason to do what it did, but that didn’t stop it from happening.

“Whatever family you have must fear for you. I do not own any communications…”

Jesse waved off Hanzo’s courteousness. “S’allright darlin’, ain’t a family to call as is. None that’ll lay claim to me, anyhow.”

Not after he’d walked away from them.

Hanzo looked uncomfortable. Jesse briefly wondered what had happened to his family.

“You should dry yourself,” Hanzo said abruptly. “Come.”

Jesse kept careful track of what turns they were taking. Three left, one right and twenty feet down Hanzo opened the door to reveal a small room that reminded Jesse of a gym locker room, if everything there was made of wood and kept pristine.

Through another doorway Jesse could see a pond, a hot spring set into the ground. Large, smooth rocks bordered the steaming water, as well as a single small tree. A line of small stools set up above a long drain, each one paired with a wooden bucket.

“I will find you something dry,” Hanzo offered, and vanished. He moved silently. Jesse envied the grace he managed to hold, steady, natural. He waited until Hanzo was gone before he stripped himself of his armor, his weapons and his clothes. He folded his pants and his shirt into a basket, keeping Peacekeeper well within grabbing rang if things went south.

Despite feeling out of place, he didn’t feel like he was in danger. He didn’t think Hanzo would hurt him. He hadn’t wanted to before, he’d done nothing beside’s try and shoo Jesse away from the castle. It didn’t make for a very good trap, if that was what this was.

Once his clothes were gone all that was left was the bandages on his shoulder. They were just as soaked, with more than water. It blotched red straight through, spreading slowly. Damn.

A sharp intake brought him back to the door. Hanzo stood with an arm full of fine clothes, red and gold. He was staring at Jesse’s shoulder.

“You’re still injured?” Hanzo set the clothes down and moved closer to Jesse, looking at the hole in his shoulder that was weeping steadily. Still. Hanzo had been there when Jesse had been shot back then.

“I’m afraid so,” Jesse was sheepish. He didn’t know why, he got banged up plenty of times and he had the scars to prove it. They littered his body, all over, from botch jobs and successful missions. He couldn’t think of a time in his life when he’d never had at least a few of them.

“Wait here,” Hanzo set down the fold of clothes, shining with wealth in the dim oil light, and left again. Jesse was left with little to do other than wait and look around. He didn’t want to get blood on the gifted clothes and he couldn’t think of anything else that would take up the few minutes he had until Hanzo’s return.

Jesse whistled softly, looking at the fine work put into the bath, the well worn stones, and the carefully woven baskets. There wasn’t a piece out of place.

But as I looked around, I began to notice that we were nothing like the rest...

Hanzo appeared as quickly and as quietly as he had disappeared, interrupting Jesse’s little song. He wasn’t holding a first aid kit, or anything even remotely like it. Just a wet handkerchief.

“I ain’t tryin’ to be rude now, but I don’t think that’ll be enough for this,” he gestured to the hole with his metal arm. Hanzo’s eyes lingered on that for a few seconds before he moved back to the task at hand.

“It will be sufficient,” Hanzo assured him. Jesse didn’t stop him when he pressed the handkerchief over his shoulder. His flesh hand spasmed when warmth flowed in through it, tingling along his nerves and into his veins. Jesse drew in a shuddering breath, the heat was replaced with coolness.

Hanzo pulled the now bloodied cloth away. Jesse looked down and had to double check that he wasn’t imagining what he saw.

He prodded his shoulder, the cold fingers of his metal hand harsh against the sensitive space. Where once there had been a hole now there was just a little bit of new, pink skin.

“That’s uh, a neat trick ya got there,” he said slowly. He’d never been healed that fast. Even Mercy couldn’t do it that quick. Just who was he dealing with here?

“It is an old family remedy,” Hanzo said. He stepped a respectable distance back, giving Jesse room to pick up the gifted clothes. He looked them over, judging their size. They might be a little small, but it would do.

Jesse felt awkward in the clothes. He was pretty sure they were silk, or something else fancy and fine. Stuff he never wore, he felt uncomfortable in them.

“Thank you,” he said again. Hanzo still hadn’t relaxed. He looked like he was waiting for something. Jesse strapped his gun back on. If Hanzo thought anything of it, he didn’t say. He was quiet while he watched the gunslinger.

Jesse had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

Hanzo made them tea to calm his nerves and still his hands. The brief contact he’d allowed himself on this man had his fingers twitching and his breath quicker. It had been so long since he’d touch any living creature of his own volition, without violence to drive him.

His palms itched to touch him again.

He gripped the cup tighter to keep himself in check. He could not allow himself to give up his control. The fact that the dragon had no burst forwards and slayne Jesse McCree already was as exciting as it was baffling.

Could it really be true that, in all these years, all he had had to do was offer forth an invitation and the spell that bound the castle would not take effect? So much bloodshed could have been prevented through such a simple solution, Hanzo had hardly dared to believe that it could be possible when the answer was offered to him.

“The way I see it darlin’, I ain’t an intruder if I’m invited here.”

Who was this man that he had found a loophole so easily? Who was he, that he had returned now thrice after seeing the guardian of Hanamura?

Hanzo stared at him over his table, eye’s half closed to hide his narrowed curiosity. Rain still beat over their heads, soothing the constant energy that rolled just under Hanzo’s skin. He was restless by his nature, being restricted to the castle had only made that worse. He had years of energy he had never been able to rid himself off.

Jesse McCree sat across from him, inspecting the small cup in his large, calloused hands. Hanzo knew the scars of hard labor, McCree bore them all. Across his hands, across his arms, over all of his body...

Hanzo pulled his brain away from there before he could linger too long.

His hands itched to touch the man again. He could not allow himself too. The curse may have been abated for now, but he did not want to get attached. McCree would not be here for long.

Hanzo let his eyes drift away from McCree’s face down to where the sleeve of his borrowed clothes fell back to expose shining metal. It moved just like a regular appendage, the wrist rolling and elbow bending easily. The fingers didn’t twitch quite as often as real ones.

Hanzo knew that the world outside of his castle had progressed without him, he didn’t know that they had gone so far. Human advancement had reached the point that he, a man infused with the magic of hundreds of generations, could have mistaken one for the other.

If not for the sense that told him when magic was involved, that is. A sense that told him that there was no magic in the arm, it was nothing enchanted. The metal did not sing with spellcast iron or magic worked steel. It was nothing more than a metal arm made by the hands of mortal men.

“Shimada,” McCree said abruptly. Hanzo looked to his eyes. They were pointed off to the side, at a wall hanging of a green dragon twisting around itself. “Is that a common name in this country?”

A strange turn of conversation. His name?

“I doubt it,” he frowned. He was the only Shimada he knew of any longer. If there were any outside of the castle, he had never heard from them.

“Huh,” McCree finished his tea, slurping it rudely.

“And, your name?”

True, Hanzo had never been the most outgoing of people. This was a new level of awkward. Were they really discussing how many other people had their names?

“Well, there’s me an’ my folks, a couple in Texas, an’ a few cousins out east. Er, west? They’re all the way in Georgia.”

Hanzo had no idea what he was talking about, he’d never heard of ‘Georgia’. He nodded like it made sense.

“You’re from, not Georgia?”

“Me? Nah, I came from New Mexico,” McCree waved his hand around his head. Once more Hanzo acted like he knew where that was. The world changed around him, he had no idea which country McCree was talking about. What had the country outside his domain become? He remembered a war, men going off to fight. And another, and another. Half a dozen at least, with boys in armor and uniforms passing by his gates. Sometimes there would be wailing in the streets.

What happened, he never knew.

It had been a long time since he had spoken to someone from the outside world.

Luckily, Jesse McCree did not appear to mind his awkwardness and his rigid manners. He lounged in the chair with the grace of a hound, relaxation doing nothing to hide the strength in his hands and the muscle under his borrowed clothes.

He talked, about all sorts of things. A grocery store that had popped up down the street from the castle at some point, a horse he’d had when he was young that was so wild he finally let it run off with a band of mustangs.

He did not talk about dragons.

For this, Hanzo was grateful. He didn’t know how much he was willing to share with this stranger. He knew how much he longed to, he knew how deeply it aches for him to finally talk to someone, to tell them everything he knew.

Instead, he nodded regally whenever the human looked to see if he was paying attention.

“Will you stay long?” Hanzo asked, folding his hands on his legs. McCree stopped his tale of snakes in his boots to look at Hanzo. Abruptly his smile closed off.

“If I’m invited to,” McCree said carefully. Hanzo realized his mistake.

“You are,” he said quickly. He was not trying to imply he wanted the stranger gone. Something shivered under his skin with the words. Magic.

The easiness returned with a toothy smile and a tip of a hat that wasn’t there.

“Thank ya’.”

#Overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch au #Jesse McCree #McHanzo #hanzo x mccree #Hanzo Shimada #dragons #noodle dragons #urban fantasy #Blackwatch era

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thosequeenboys · 5 years

Text

Jealousy (Poly!Queen Week)

Summary: Freddie and Roger commence their occasional fling to Roger’s delight only to be interrupted by Fred’s main love interest, Deacy, who they convince to join. This piece is for Day 5 of Poly!Queen Week 2019.

A/N: This was one of my first-ever fan fics, written before I was on Tumblr and before I knew Poly! was a thing. I was just looking at pictures of them and then... well, you know how that happens 😊…Didn’t know I had this in me!. So glad it’s come in handy! Song lyrics that came to me as I wrote are bolded and referenced at the end.

Warnings: This story is pure smut. Please move on if you’re under 18. There is also some cursing – and a little sap!

Freddie and Roger gave each other The Look after the show, which meant they would meet in Fred’s suite in a hour. It seldom happened these days, but after Freddie's ongoing gyrations in front of Roger during the show, they knew something had to be done to satisfy their passion.

Roger arrived right on time and Fred let him in. “You look gorgeous, Darling,” he sighed. Fred sure knew how to call it when it came to cute boys. Roger had showered and changed. Fred’s eyes roamed over him slowly from head to toe, noting his soft blonde waves feathering his face, his tight wife beater stretched over his chest, exposing his firm biceps, and his fresh white jeans hugging all of his delicious spots.

“Get undressed, Dear, put this on and get on the bed,” Fred said, tossing Roger a robe. Roger moved past Fred and undressed rapidly, throwing his clothes in a pile on the floor, as Fred disappeared into the bathroom.

Roger put the robe on and lay on the bed, his smooth chest and legs exposed. He started to stroke his cock in anticipation of what lay ahead. Fred emerged wearing a robe, which he slithered off as he climbed on top of Roger, who released himself and tossed his own robe quickly. Freddie started to kiss Roger deeply and Roger offered devouring kisses in return, their cocks aligned, growing as they thrusted into each other.

“Oh, God,” Roger moaned, in between kisses. “I’ve missed this, Fred. You’re just so…divine, so sexy…” Roger’s voice lilted.

Fred winked at Roger and reached over to grab the lube on the side table and started putting it on his fingers. “Why don’t you get on all fours. Let’s get to it.”

“Wow, just like that? No foreplay??” Roger joked.

“That concert was foreplay,” Fred responded. “Our dicks were hard for two hours. Took everything I had not to push you over your fucking drums and take you right there on the stage.” Fred growled.

The image was arousing to Roger, however uncomfortable and logistically complicated it might have been.

“I kinda feel like a slut, Fred. “You don’t bring me flowers, you don’t sing me love songs.” (1)” Roger laughed. He knew that this relationship did not have those trappings, nor were they needed. They loved each other as old friends and bandmates and once-in-a-blue-moon fuck buddies. And that was enough. More than enough, really. Roger assumed the position for Freddie.

“True, but tonight, I bring you these,” Freddie winked, as he showed Roger his long, slicked fingers, and he slid one, two, then three fingers gently into Roger, who moaned with each entrance. Finally, Freddie positioned himself behind Roger who was panting. “Jesus, Fred...Fuck me...” On his knees, Fred bent forward into a perfect flat-back draping himself over Roger, one arm holding himself up and the other wrapped around the younger man. Freddie slowly parted Roger’s hole with his throbbing member, and Roger let out an anticipatory moan.

Suddenly the door clicked with a key. “Freddie, I want you to see this”...the voice trailed off. It was Deacy, holding a magazine, suddenly stopping, his mouth agape as he witnessed his bandmates primed before him. The magazine tumbled out of his hands.

Roger turned his head from his doggie position to look back at the disruption. “Oh shit. I’m never going to get fucked,” he mumbled as he grabbed the robe off the floor, draping it over himself as he turned around and sat.

There was indeed cause for concern.

Fred moved away from Roger instantly, covered himself hastily with the blanket and faced a stunned Deacy. “Deacy, Love, you know, this is just, just an occasional, um, meeting Roger and I have...”

“An occasional meeting, huh? And, is there a written agenda for this meeting?” John retorted snidely.

Roger let out a hearty laugh. Don’t let that sweet smile fool you, he thought. That boy can slay! Roger stopped his hilarity suddenly as Freddie shot him a stern glare.

“Oh, Deacy. I have heart eyes only for you. It just..it goes way back. Do you want to join? Could be fun! And Roger could use a little foreplay. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Would you, Rog?” Roger took a deep breath and let it out audibly.

“I suppose not,” Roger knew he didn’t have a choice. He felt jealous feelings rise inside of him. Freddie had such a clear desire and concern for Deacy that they became enmeshed in their own world and everything else just vanished sometimes. It was tough for Roger to imagine someone loving him so completely like that. He was happy for them, but he couldn’t help but wonder if that would that love ever happen to him.

He and Brian knew Freddie suffered from ‘a crazy little thing called Deacy love.’ Those boys had a deep bond on stage, in the studio, at the pub, always. Freddie drew Deacy out and helped him feel comfortable with band life, and Deacy could snap Fred out of one of his moods in a heartbeat with a firm yet caring talk, a loaded stare or a wry joke. Their music interests and humor were in sync. Their love ran deep. Once in Vegas Roger heard them through the wall in Freddie’s room next door, their jokes and banter turning subdued over the evening. Deacy’s moans were punctuated by his utterances of “Freddie oh, Freddie” most of the night, and Freddie spoke to Deacy softly as they made gentle, passionate love.

In terms of Freddie’s affection and attention, Deacy always won.

Turning off his thoughts, Roger was intrigued by Deacy joining them. He was handsome in an understated way with a firm body. He found himself watching Deacy’s firm ass and toned thighs from his drums. He loved it when Deacy danced so freely. Deacy meanwhile was warming up to the idea himself, though he was a little intimidated by Roger’s infamous bedroom prowess. He blinked, a bit incredulous at the thought of fooling around with the prettiest, most luscious, most desirable boy, so sweet even when he was acting cheeky or staring into space, blind as a bat, because he was too stubborn to wear his glasses.

“Come on over, Darling,” Fred motioned to Deacy, who advanced toward the bed tentatively. “Let’s go over the rules,” Fred said. Deacy raised an eyebrow at the word ‘rules.’ Roger’s mouth opened and he blurted out “Rules??”

Freddie continued, “You boys can fool around, but only I can fuck Deacy and only I can make Deacy come.”

“Are you joking??!!!!” Roger asked incredulously. Deacy smiled, pleased with the arrangement- and the thought of Roger being disappointed in their limited contact. And, he was relieved that Freddie wanted to pleasure him. “Roger, do you want to get fucked or not?” Freddie asked with a laugh.

Roger gave a sly smile, looking down, and threw his robe to the floor. He said with his gruff yet high pitched voice, “Come on over, Deacy. Why don’t you strip for us?” As Deacy stripped slowly tossing his clothes on the floor, both Freddie and Roger eyed him lustfully. Deacy crawled on the bed and turned his attention to Roger knowing he was disappointed by his intrusion. He started to kiss him and laid him back on the bed. Deacy planted kisses down Roger’s smooth chest.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Roger?” Deacy cooed with a broad grin, raising his head to look at Roger.

Roger’s eyes widened. He let out a little moan staring at Deacy, “Y..Yessss.”

Freddie gasped at Deacy’s boldness, “Deacy??’ Deacy’s mouth continued its journey down Roger’s slender frame and ended up sucking a moaning and increasingly hard Roger.

“Jesus Christ, You’re so good, Deacy,” Roger said, as Deacy took more of Roger’s hard cock into his mouth. Deacy popped off of him with a crooked grin. “I learned from the best,” he said, giving Freddie a wink. Freddie was stroking his own hard cock and laughed at Deacy. “C’mon, Deacy, you know flattery will get you EVERYWHERE.”

Suddenly, Roger pulled out and flipped Deacy over onto his back and got on top of him, astride him on all fours. Freddie looked on and said, “Super, we’re back where we started. Now with two hot boys. Roger, suck Deacy and bring him to the edge for me and I’ll take care of you.” Deacy leaned against headboard, his cock strategically placed under Roger’s head.

Freddie lubed up his cock and fingers and again assumed the position behind Roger. He fingered him again, feeling him relax and open as he probed him.

“You’re such a pretty boy, Roger. Just so pretty,” Fred gushed. “Isn’t he, Deacy?”

“Oh, God, yes,” Deacy uttered. “I..I can’t believe I’m looking up at him like this, for he’s so fine, so fine (2).”

“You ready for me?” Freddie asked Roger.

“Ready Freddie,” Roger responded, and they all laughed. (I couldn’t help it)

Freddie pushed himself into Roger who thrusted back toward Freddie and groaned. Roger bent his head and starting sucking Deacy’s hard cock as Freddie moved in and out of Roger. Deacy moaned, thrusting into Roger’s hot and eager mouth and reached his hand up to grab Roger’s aching cock.

“Oh, Fuck, Deacy like that. Harder Freddie, fuck me Harder. I’m not gonna last with you boys...Oh, Fuck....” Roger’s movements melded to the rhythm of Freddie’s thrusts and Deacy’s hand, causing him the most intense pleasure.

“UGH, give it to me, boys.” Freddie gave a few quick strong thrusts and Deacy jerked Roger harder. Roger released his load through Deacy’s fingers onto his chest. Roger and Freddie kept moving together as Roger landed after his climax.

“That was incredible,” Roger said, panting.

“Beautiful.,” Fred said as he pulled out. He turned Roger over and leaned in to kiss him. “My dear, dear friend. I love you. Now, I’ll finish Deacy.”

Roger got up, grabbed a wet towel and helped clean up Deacy, who laid on his back, ready for his lover.

Fred sat on his heels in front of Deacy’s outstretched firm body.

“Playing with Roger got you hot for me, Love?”

“That. Was. Really. Hot….Fuck me, Freddie,” Deacy replied breathlessly.

Freddie stood on his knees and applied lube to his fingers and brought Deacy’s legs around his waist. He fingered Deacy and then entered him slowly, causing him to gasp. Roger stroked himself watching the action. Fred and John rocked together gracefully, loving so warm, moving so right (3). They were well practiced.

“’I’m close,” John panted.

“You’re taking me so well, Darling. I want to feel you come.” Fred cooed, and John climaxed, “ohhhh, Freddie, Oh, God, I love you.” “And, I love you too, Deacy.” Fred said, as he picked up the pace slightly and came urgently, with a moan. They eased their movements and Fred slipped out of John, kissing him passionately on the lips and down his neck.

“Come here.” Fred gestured to Roger and he kissed him gently. They all cleaned up and then stretched under the covers, Freddie in the middle spooning Deacy with his arms around him, Roger behind Freddie, holding him, all of them satisfied.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door connecting the two adjoining suites. “Hey, Fred, you in there? Where the hell is everyone?” Brian jimmied the door and it opened. He walked in and saw the three boys lounging in the bed, holding each other, their glistening naked bodies poking out from the sheet, clothes and robes strewn on the floor.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Brian said with a tight grin. “You boys had a party and didn’t think to invite me? You know how hurt that makes me feel?” Brian fixed a pout on his lips, trying to cover a smile. “I think you boys need to make it up to me. Brian came over to the bed and sat down. Looking around, he thought his scene was surprising in a way, but he figured it was bound to happen at some point.

“Oh, crap,” Freddie mumbled, stifling a laugh. The other boys giggled nervously. “Fasten your seat belts, boys, Brian’s going to teach us a lesson, but good.”

“Hardly,” Brian said, softening his tone. “Well… not tonight, anyway,” he said with a gleam in his eye. He became suddenly sullen; his joking stopped. He swallowed and glanced at the boys, and then looked down.

“Brian, Darling, what’s wrong??” Freddie asked with concern.

“I wanted to joke with you, but you know, truth be told, I really AM a little hurt.” He shook his head flustered. “It’s just, well, I guess I feel a little jealous that you all… had each other…so intimately.”

“Sorry Darling, it wasn’t intentional to leave you out, really. It just sort of happened.” Fred said sincerely. “Please forgive us, Brian. “Oh how strong can you be with matters of the heart? Life is much too short to while away with tears.” (4)

“You can join next time!” Roger crowed enthusiastically.

“Alright then,” Brian chuckled softly. “I certainly will!” Suddenly, he crawled up the bed, leaned his long body over the three spooning boys and started to tickle and kiss them, and they all dissolved into laughter.

SONG NOTES

(1) You Don’t Bring me Flowers, Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand

(2) He’s so Fine, The Chiffons

(3) Somewhere in the Night, Barry Manilow

(4) Jealousy, Queen

#queen fan fic #poly!queen 2019 #bohemian rhapsody #borhemian rhapsody fan fiction #borhap fanfic #borhap fic #queen fanfiction #queen smut #smut #fan fic writing #freddie mercury.#brian may #roger taylor #john deacon

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