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wallgirl · 3 years

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The Little Nereid Part 8

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Current word count: 22,000

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly, multiple times a week; will have about 14 parts total.

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Poseidon sat, tapping his fingers impatiently on the arms of his chair. He had returned to his rooms to await the arrival of his elder brother, who was, by force of habit, late. Hades was never on time to meetings that weren't urgent, and this evening was no different. He seemed to run on his own clock, and came and went on his own terms. Of course, Poseidon didn't care if he showed up either way. But if Hades was going to demand part of his day, the least he could do was be punctual.

His gaze drifted across the room to the glass doors that led to the balcony. The wind was still howling, causing enough of a stir that he could barely hear the crackling of the fireplace only a dozen feet away. His eyes narrowed in irritation. He hadn't willed the seas to be this way, so why did this storm persist? He curled his fingers into a fist with slow deliberation, commanding the wind to stop.

It made no difference, and the low roar continued.

He heard the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs that led to his quarters, and he rose his head with a sigh. It was about time.

Well, he hadn't heard the footsteps so much as felt them. Although the steps moved at a leisurely pace, each footfall contained a heavy, almost stifling energy; the signature of the god they belonged to. The flames of the fireplace wavered in response, and the wind outside finally began to quiet to a reasonable whisper.

The doors opened slowly, and his elder brother entered. Despite the weather outside, his clothes were still perfectly straight and poised; his hair was unruffled from its usual careful style. His expression was unhurried, almost casual, and Poseidon scowled in response.

"Now, Poseidon, is a face like that any way to greet your older brother?" Hades asked languidly as he approached.

"You come waltzing in here an hour after the agreed upon time, and you're worried about etiquette now?"

"Ah, such an abrasive response," Hades sighed, sliding onto the seat across from Poseidon. "So typical of you."

"Enough. What are you here for?" Poseidon demanded.

"I'll get straight to the point, then. I come on behalf of Hera, to help her make her case," Hades responded, indifferent to Poseidon's anger. He folded his hands before him, taking on a more serious tone. "I understand her last visit was trying for both of you."

"I ought to forbid her from entering the premises outright," Poseidon grumbled, looking away. "She only ever comes to nag anyways." His gaze returned to his brother. "But you never side with Hera on anything. Why do you come to do her dirty work now? Surely there's some other reason that you came."

"You're right," Hades admitted freely. "To be honest, I come, not on her behalf, but on the behalf of my beloved Persephone. You see, Hera went straight from your palace to mine the other day to rant about your unbecoming behavior. But Persephone's in the family way now, and Hera's visit - behavior, more precisely - alarmed her. I don't wish for a repeat performance, at least not until the baby's born, so I'm here to knock some sense into that oblivious head of yours." He smiled humorlessly.

Poseidon blinked, then he glared. That sentence hadn't ended the way he'd expected. "Knock some sense, huh?"

"Poseidon, you are thousands of years old, and you have had no lovers." Hades waved his hand lightly over the table, and two glasses and a cask of wine appeared. "There are only two possibilities: The first is that you experience attraction to no one and nothing, in which case you have my condolences. Romance is the headiest of pleasures." He carefully poured the wine into both glasses before rising his own to his lips for a slow sip. "The second is that you have, and you're too stupid and inexperienced to know what to do about it."

Poseidon's glare turned from one of irritation to one of malice. "What brave words, Hades."

Hades ignored his brother's veiled threat. "So which would it be, little brother?" He lowered his glass from his lips and stared at Poseidon over the rim. "The sooner you spit it out, the sooner we can smooth out this stupid feud with Hera and the sooner I can return to my wife and realm."

Poseidon stared at his untouched glass of wine. "I have desire for no one. I need no one. I will have no one."

"The waves tell me otherwise, brother." Hades retorted. "I understand a party of Nereids took leave of the palace earlier today. A little bird told me in particular that they left with the intention of removing one of their own from your influence."

Poseidon's gaze cut sharply back up to Hade's. "Does this little bird have a death wish? A desire to see just how deep the ocean trenches get?"

"Answer the unspoken question, Poseidon. What's going on between you and that sea-nymph?" Hades refilled his glass. "Did she offend you? Did you throw your trident at her when she messed up your morning tea? Or is there something else?"

Dynamene. Something in Poseidon's eyes stirred. "There was a time when I nearly did throw my trident at her." The words had left his mouth without his permission.

"Ah. A time you nearly did. But something's changed since then, hasn't it?" Hades smirked triumphantly. "I know you have a soft spot for the Nereids. That's why none of them have died in the thousand years they've served you. Has the other shoe finally dropped? Have you fallen for one of them?"

"The Nereids are smart enough to know their place, and I mine," Poseidon answered sharply. "We have no relationship. They serve me, and in return I allow them to live leisurely at my palace."

"That's what Hera said you told her," Hades sighed, crossing his legs. "Oh, well. I suppose it doesn't matter what comes out of your mouth now. The ocean grew stormy after that nymph left, and it hasn't toned down in the hours since." Hades finished his second glass of wine. "You can say what you like, but your defensive demeanor and the crashing waves outside say otherwise. Let me offer you some brotherly advice, as a more experienced man." Hades leaned closer, his eyes glinting. "Do not wait forever to make your move. Knowing you, I'm sure you've made enough missteps already. Don't make more."

"Missteps?" Poseidon had had enough of the insults. "And what experience, exactly, qualifies you to advise me?" He sneered. "Kidnapping a girl to force her to become your bride?"

"I got her, didn't I?" Hades retorted, unbothered by Poseidon's scathing words. "The woman of my dreams, who welcomes me home with affection and shares my bed at night. She's mine, and mine alone, because I was prepared to use any means necessary. If only Zeus hadn't gotten involved on Demeter's behalf..." He sighed. "I could've had her to myself every month of the year." He clicked his tongue in disappointment.

Poseidon huffed in disgust. "Barbaric. You disgust me. A god shouldn't have to force any woman to be their bride, let alone kidnap her."

"And yet here you sit, drowning in your own misery because the maiden you're besotted with might escape your grasp and you're too socially inept to make her yours." Hades smirked and rose to his feet. "Tell me this, Poseidon. You say we have no need of love, and that's true. We have no need of warmth, of pleasure, of sun and air, of the sea... As gods, we could sit in a vacuum forever and we'd be no worse off for it. But does that keep us from desiring those things?"

Poseidon didn't answer.

"Mhm. You know, if this is the nymph I was told it was, she is young and inexperienced. Naïve and oblivious in love. That's perfect, however, because so are you." Hades chuckled. "Let me know if you have need of a few pomegranate seeds in the future. Take care, little brother." Hades rose his empty glass to him in a toast before taking his leave.

Poseidon glowered at the door long after Hades had left. Disgusting. What a repugnant idea, that one should be so desperate for love that they would trap the object of their affections for eternity. It's pathetic. It's unbecoming for gods like us.

We have no need of love. None. We don't need it. It's unnecessary.

I don't want it. His clenched fists were shaking. I hate it.

He grabbed the cask of wine and threw it across the room. It exploded into splinters of wood on impact with the wall, blood-red wine bursting onto the floor. He stared at the liquid as it slowly bled across the floor, making its way to the tips of his boots.

I can't have it.

That nymph was annoying. He wished she'd just let him be. How had such a slight young girl embedded herself so deeply in his mind? She kept invading his thoughts now at every chance she got. He could see her wide sea-gray eyes even now, reflecting his own face back at him. He could hear the way her breath caught when he touched her, as if she was overwhelmed at such a slight gesture. And he remembered that feeling he got when she watched his lips, as if clinging to his every word. She was intoxicated just by his presence, and Poseidon didn't understand.

So many beings respected him, admired him, feared him. Whole worlds hinged on him and his actions. Sailors uttered prayers to him under their breath as they began their voyages. Merpeople presented him with offerings to ensure a peaceful and bountiful realm. Coastal cities did their best to appease him to protect their civilization from the ocean's wrath. He was a god, the pinnacle of existence.

But what was he, exactly, in Dynamene's eyes? Someone to be respected and admired, of course. She saw him as the perfect god he was, and she was smitten by it. But did she fear him? No. Why would she? He had had ample reason to execute her for spying on his meeting with Hera, and yet he hadn't. He had never harmed her or rejected her. He'd hardly even scolded her.

So, without fear holding her back, she continued to press his boundaries. She asked questions. She watched him unabashedly. She reached for his hand. She had embraced him.

He didn't want anyone else to know that side of her. He didn't want anyone else to be the focus of her attention. It belonged to him. Surely, as the tyrant of the seas, he was the only one worthy of it.

He pursed his lips. I don't need it; and yet...

I want it.

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Author's notes: Formatting will be fixed once I get on my laptop later.

Shorter part this time, but I wanted to keep the focus on the conversation between these two. It's important for getting into Poseidon's head. What a selfish, helpless man.

Hades! Or rather, my version of Hades. Who knows if this portrayal of him will hold up once we've seen more of his character in the manga.

I might go back and edit the text slightly later, but the vast majority of it will remain the same.

"In the family way" is an old-fashioned, polite way of saying a woman is pregnant.

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon #poseidon x oc #hades #shuumatsu no valkyrie #fanfiction

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unwoundvisions · 2 years

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Gojo Info

A little character background on Satoru because he’s the only fictional character being imported into this. Hopefully this will be a good reference for him if you ever need one. I’m going to try my best not to ramble too much or give you too much to watch/read because I know that can be tedious and I’m sorry if this ends up being long but let’s begin:

Basics

Name: Satoru Gojo (commonly known as Gojo given that most people in Japan go by their last name unless they are amongst close friends or family).

Alias: “The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer” or “The Strongest” (not relevant to our plot but canonically speaking that is not an exaggeration he is the strongest character in his universe).

Birthday: December 7, 1989 (that is the date listed in the manga at least).

Sign: Sagittarius

Age: 27/28 (sort of changes depending on the chapter/episode)

Height: 190 cm (he’s tall, we love that)

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Vibrant Blue

Occupation: Jujutsu Sorcerer and teacher (being both things are important to him but he as person values being a teacher much more).

Appearance

Because the manga/show has him working most of the time he is seen like this:

I’m not completely sure why he wears the blind fold (there are various theories). I believe it is to heighten his senses. However, I’ve also heard another theory that suggest he wears it because one of his abilities makes him see WAYYY more than the average person (kinda like how elves have advanced vision in LOTR). So he wears blindfolds/glasses to lesson how overwhelming his vision might be. Bottom line, the blindfold does not affect his ability to see whatsoever. The rest of his outfit I believe is just the standard school uniform because he’s a teacher and for some reason they match their students.

On the other hand, these are a decent example of his casual look:

Honestly, could have showed way more because he’s been drawn in casual clothes A LOT but bottom line, when he’s not teaching he can be very well dressed. He most likely dresses so well because 1, his family is super well off. 2, being a sorcerer pays well and he’s the best so he has more money than I think he’ll ever know what to do with.

Speech

Now I probably should dive into his background first but since I just went over his appearance it only makes sense to talk about how he talks as well so I’ll link a very few short videos. I’m going to use his English dub actor ( honestly it suits him just as well as his Japanese) because we can easily say he speaks English well (plus I think it’s actually canon that he does so imagining his voice sounding like this isn’t inaccurate). This will also give you a fair idea as to how he presents himself:

Here are a few of his more light hearted moments:

https://youtu.be/zKXjNbnRSmM https://youtu.be/sbsvACHntYc

He is old year older than the character he’s tormenting in the clips above. He’s a man child and I somehow love him dearly.

His somewhat serious teacher/dad voice:

https://youtu.be/knBQC-A8Lqg

https://youtu.be/jZkzNxup2Q4

How he talks to people he hates:

https://youtu.be/wGXHP2pyYWA

https://youtu.be/3GZxZERcivM

At the end there I think he was 100% serious, he really was hoping the shock of someone coming back to life would kill the old guy because that old guy is actively trying to kill one of Gojo’s students (side note: his laugh makes me stupidly happily).

How he talks to enemies: (yes there is so how a difference) he’s cocky and somehow flirtatious. At least he is when he’s confident the enemy poses no real threat to him.

https://youtu.be/1Dh8pi-UaE0

https://youtu.be/Vx2KF_6JNYY

https://youtu.be/VoOOxyK9G5Y

For this one just watch from 0:40 to 1:22

https://youtu.be/douUsP76IdU

And lastly I’ll just link this one if you ever just need inspiration for how how he talks in various situations where he usually annoys people (which is often.) No urgent need to watch it just feel free to skim through it if you ever need inspiration.

https://youtu.be/LLoliJyKgwk

Overall, to most he comes off as this cocky/childish because he is (and there are reasons he acts that way I can mention later). Very funny and flirtatious with most people. However toward those he loathes he can get a little vicious even if it is in backhanded way. He’s not often serious but he definitely can be. Especially when he wants to be intimidating toward the people he hates.

Background

Okay I’d normally say read the wiki page for this part but honestly it’s way too long/complicated. I’m going to try my best to simplify it as best as I can but please forgive me if this part ends up being the longest:

Satoru is the strongest character in Jujutsu Kaisen because he comes from this really ancient family/clan. That clan has special abilities that are passed down through the family. Some abilities are better than others but Gojo was the first in over 400 years to be born with two of best abilities that clan has. These abilities are not only the strongest in the clan but probably the strongest abilities in the entire world. Put those together and Satoru instantly becomes the biggest name in the Jujutsu World. So much so that when he was born (and I am not exaggerating when I say this) there was a shift in the world. Bad guys/monsters felt his presence and instantly feared him. He literally became the pillar of Jujutsu Society, basically holding it together on his own simply by being alive and present. That’s how strong he is.

Now, his clan/family knew all of this and knew how important Satoru would be. Because of this, he wasn’t raised like normal children. He was raised kind of as if he was this king or deity. That meant he knew how important he was early on. He is considered “the honored one” by his clan and he acts like it. They raised him as if he was the strongest (because he is) and that’s exactly what he became. That means his childhood was pretty lonely, strict and boring. He was sheltered, tutored and trained. His days weren’t spent fixated only making sure he got stronger in every aspect. I personally think this is why he can be a little childish because his childhood was basically robbed from him. It wasn’t until he was in high school that he finally was allowed to get away from his clan so he could study and train at the most well respected school. That was his first time really getting to know people outside his clan.

It was in school where he finally made some friends who treated him like he was a real person instead of this semi deity level sorcerer. His best friend had no issues telling him off for his conceded behavior. They bickered sometimes but Satoru really loved him for seeing him as a person first and super strong sorcerer second. A lot of people treated him like royalty or expected him to hold himself like royalty but not his friends (and even his teacher). I’d say he was pretty happy at the start of his high school days but of course we can always count on the plot to throw in some life scarring trauma.

Background Part 2: The Trauma

I tried my best to think of a shorter way to explain this but this event really shaped Satoru into the person he is an adult so I’m going to try to explain it without dragging on:

Basically, Satoru and his best friend were given a mission to escort a girl to the school so she could basically be sacrificed to a literal deity that looks after Jujutsu Society (long story but not super important here). She was chosen from birth, told it was honor and all that jazz. Satoru and his friend decide that if this girl decides she doesn’t want to do this, they will risk everything (their lives, their reputation, ect) to make sure she got away safely.

For a while, she’s convinced this is what she was born to do so they carry on the mission as planned despite several people trying to kill the girl (for various reasons that aren’t important here). By the time they finally get back to the school, Satoru is exhausted because he had been using everything he had in him to make sure they stayed protected on their journey (meaning using his abilities and even going without sleep for days).

Of course, the big bad guy predicted he’d do that and uses that to his advantage. The big bad is insanely skilled and has just the right methods and means to be a decent rival for a young Satoru. He wrecks Satoru, kills the girl right when she finally decides she doesn’t want to be sacrificed and wrecks his best friend too.

The big bad gets away with it, gets paid and thinks he’s won but that’s when Satoru basically comes back to life (not really, he just used his abilities to heal himself). It shouldn’t have been possible given how exhausted he was but Satoru literally is the strongest and the big bad basically fucked with the wrong person. This all angered Satoru so much that he essentially leveled up and killed the big bad pretty easily. Right before he died though, Satoru asked the big bad for his last words. The big bad basically tells him, “I’ve got this kid who might turn out to be as strong as I am and he’s basically going to be sold to a clan in a couple of years. They aren’t going to let him rise to his full potential because I’m his dad. Do with that information what you will” (I know that doesn’t seem important but I promise it comes into play later).

Back to the trauma, Satoru has to go and collect the dead girl’s body from a weird cult who were cheering over her death (long story not important). He’s so numb, angry and powerful that he was 100% ready to kill them. He could have turned into this evil being had his best friend not been their to ground him and say, “We’re meant to protect humans. Besides, killing them would just be pointless because they haven’t done anything. Sorcerers need to have a reason to take a life.” His best friend really was his moral compass in that moment. That moment would shape a lot of who Satoru is as person (unfortunately, it really shaped his best friend too but I’ll get back to that in a moment).

Satoru feels a great amount of guilt for not being able to protect everyone from this attack. He takes it upon himself to make himself as strong as possible. Two years pass and he levels up as high as he can go. Basically he can do what he was struggling to do earlier without even thinking about it. Now, he can protect more people and ensure nothing like that ever happens again. Because of how strong he’s gotten, he’s being summoned for more missions. His best friend had improved too and was also busy with missions. This meant they didn’t really get to see each other as much anymore. However, whenever they do meet Satoru can tell there’s something wrong because his friend just seems unwell. Before they can ever really talk about it.

Watching that cult cheer for that young girl’s death really made Satoru’s friend snap. He questioned a lot of things about society and where they stood. Eventually he came to conclusion that no one would ever go through an experience like they did if he simply got rid of humans (because humans unintentionally/unknowingly create the monsters they face in this world). He thinks all the problems their world faces would simply go away if humans were gone. He wrestles with these thoughts for a long time but the iceberg for him was seeing humans abuse and cage two little girls because they were sorcerers. The humans didn’t understand their powers and treated them terribly because they thought the girls were causing issues in their village (they weren’t, it was monsters the humans spawned). Satoru’s friend finally snapped properly and killed the entire village of over 100 people. He also killed his own parents because he’s serious when he says he wants all humans dead. If they aren’t sorcerers (which his parents weren’t), he seems them as lesser beings. He becomes an enemy to Jujutsu society and of this happened while Satoru was on a mission. When he comes back, he’s informed and feels responsible again.

It takes Satoru a bit of time t o come into contact with the friend again but once he does, the friend has no shame in admitting what he’s done. Satoru tries to remind him that there has to be a point for sorcerer to take a life. His friend insist that there is a point to his cause. Satoru tries to change his mind again by telling him what he’s wanting to do is impossible. His friend tells him he knows that’s not the case because with Satoru’s abilities it could be done easily. His friend starts to leave and tells him there would even be a point in killing him if Satoru must. Satoru raises his hands to do it but he can’t go through with it. It’s his best friend. The one he often calls his one and only.

Aftermath of the Trauma:

Once again, Satoru’s youth was robbed from him by this experience. Instead of being angry about that he decides that he wants to try his best to create a word with strong enough sorcerers who can change how their world works. He doesn’t want anyone to go through experiences like he has. Doesn’t want anyone to lose their best friend like he did. He wants to make genuine improvement to a very traditional and ancient society. Yes, while he could simply destroy people clinging to the old ways, he knows that those people would simply be replaced. This desire for change will take time (possibly longer than he has on this earth) and this is why he decides he wants to foster strong and intelligent allies who would one day reset the Jujutsu world and lead it anew. This is why he dedicates his life to being a teacher/mentor.

His first step at this is literally fostering two children when he was only 18/19. He remembered the big bad’s final words and decided he didn’t want that talent going to waste. So, he took the son and his step sister under his care. They were under the impression their parents had simply abandoned them. They were elementary school age (I think) and from my understanding, Satoru dedicated everything he had in him to looking after them both. I don’t think either of them ever saw Satoru as a father (he seemed for too silly/childish to them for that) but they really respected him. Deep down, I think the son really cares for him but doesn’t want to admit it. And while Satoru adores all of his students, I still think the son will always be his pride and joy.

Satoru as a teacher might seems a bit lazy but he’s actually really thoughtful. He personally trains a lot of them and always tries his best to help them become the best they can be. He respects and trusts them so much that he lets them tackle missions that would be a challenge for them. He really cherishes their youth as well (sometimes even more than the students do). He will go out of his way to make sure none of their fun is being taken away. He will also 100% give his life or fight for them if need be. One of his students was considered a threat by the elders and was to be executed. Satoru simply told him if that were the case, he was siding with his student, even if that would lead to him having to destroy the elders.

Current:

I won’t drag on too much about what’s going on with Satoru on the show/manga currently. I will say he eventually did have to face his best friend again. It sucked because the friend had become so extreme/violent that Satoru ended up being the one who had to kill him. Yay. More trauma for him. But that’s not the end of the trauma. About a year later, a lot of serious fighting shit is going on and who walks up? The friend. Satoru is so fucking stunned that he freezes, his magic eyes try to process what the hell he is looking at because it doesn’t compute in his mind and that’s when he’s trapped. He stood still for long enough to be trapped by this stupid magic thing. Of course, he learns that his friend is 100% dead and there’s just a weird fucking monster possessing his body. Had all the memories of the body and knew this would be the perfect way to take Satoru out. With that, Satoru get sealed in this magic box and can’t get out. Somehow, he has hope that his students will fix everything and get him out. Been that way for several chapters and at this point I don’t think he’s getting out of that damn thing until the manga is over with. Mainly because the author doesn’t like him too much and he’s kinda annoyed people love him more than the main characters. Also it’s because Satoru is just too powerful. If he were around, the main characters wouldn’t struggle as much so I get why he has to be sidelined.

Personality

I’m just going to copy and past some stuff from his wiki. But I’m cutting out the bits where they imply he’s this cold hearted bastard because that’s just not true. I honestly don’t know how the hell people walk away from this show with that impression of him but I’ll cut out their nonsense. Satoru is a complex individual. He is normally seen to be nonchalant and playful towards his students, close colleagues, and friends. However, he is unsympathetic and cruel towards sorcerer executives (aka the shitty elders) and his enemies. Satoru is extremely confident in his abilities and reputation as a powerful sorcerer, believing himself to be invincible. Additionally, he is very arrogant. He is convinced that he is the strongest in the world, which he technically is, claiming, during his fight with the big bad that "throughout the Heavens and earth, he alone is the honored one." His combative style is characterized by his aggressive and domineering attacks, while flaunting his mastered techniques to his opponents. Furthermore, in a crisis, he is capable of being cold-blooded. He will prioritize his enemies' destruction over saving innocent people when he believes that the sacrifice is unavoidable (yes, as would most heroes but this wiki loves to make him sound like a dick). However, this only extends to the people killed by his opponent; he will not do any lasting harm to or kill anyone innocent to gain the upper hand. Nevertheless, despite his haughtiness and strength, Satoru is more human than he first appears. It was Satoru's trauma over losing his best friend that caused his ultimate downfall in Shibuya. He was also distraught when a student seemingly died. Satoru's endgame is to reform the jujutsu world from the bottom-up through education. He seeks to foster a new generation of sorcerers that he hopes will one day become his equals.

Okay, I think that’s everything. I’m terribly sorry for how long this was but hopefully it will be helpful. I think next I’m going to post some ideas I had for the Peter Pan plot because it’s too long to explain over twitter I think.

#character info

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sneezyminniejo · 3 years

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I’m Not Going Blind

Namjoon is a photic sneezer, has been his entire life. It was very normal for him to sneeze once or twice in the morning when he turns his lights on and occasionally throughout the day if any bright lights hit his eyes.

Eventually Namjoon got curious about why he would suddenly sneeze when exposed to light, so he decided to do some research. He had learned that the common term for it was the photic sneeze reflex and snorted when he found out the scientific term was autosomal dominant compelling helio-ophthalmic outburst syndrome or ACHOO Syndrome for short. He was also extremely glad that he was fluent in English as the majority of the articles he had found were in said language.

At some point during his research, BTS' manager called him saying that something urgent had come up and he needed to come to the company building right away. Because it was simple research that he could easily get back to later, Namjoon didn't bother exiting out of the web browser and just let his computer fall asleep after he left.

Around thirty minutes after Namjoon had left, Jungkook had entered the room wanting to use Namjoon's computer because it had some higher tech editing software than what was on his own computer. He woke the computer up and was a little confused at the page he was looking at. It was some sort of scientific or medical website in English and the only word he was able to confidently make out was 'syndrome'.

Jungkook knew that he probably shouldn't be snooping into whatever Namjoon was looking up, but curiosity got the best of him. He opened up papago and had it scan the website for a translation. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he read that it affected the eyes, bright lights can easily worsen the disorder, and one of the symptoms is sneezing. Jungkook's hyung had some rare incurable and untreatable disorder and he hadn't bothered to tell anyone. Jungkook decided he would do what he could to help his hyung out. He also decided to let the others know their leader was sick so they could all help take the load off their stressed leader.

Knowing that all of his hyungs except for Namjoon were at the dorm, Jungkook was quick to call a family meeting. They were quick to gather, but were very confused when they saw that Jungkook called the meeting and their leader was absent. "Kook, why did you call a meeting and where is Joon?" Seokjin asked. "Manager-nim called Joon for an urgent meeting." Replied Yoongi. All eyes went back to focus on the maknae. "Actually I called this meeting to talk about Namjoon-hyung. I think he's sick."

Hoseok was the first to respond. "You sure about that Kookah? I haven't noticed anything different about him that would suggest he caught a bug of some sort." Everyone muttered in agreement with Hoseok.

Jungkook looked down at his lap as he began to explain. "I went to use Joon-hyung's computer because he has better editing software than me, and he was last reading some scientific medical journal thing that was about a rare syndrome." Jungkook paused before continuing. "I got curious because he has no reason to be looking up rare medical disorders and I put it through papago to translate. It's a condition that affects the eyes, is worsened by bright lights, and one of the symptoms is sneezing. Look at the symptoms list, he fits nearly all of it" Jungkook began crying at this point as he showed them the symptoms list. "It specifically affects the red blood cells in and around the eyes. The article said something about a hemolytic response."

Jungkook waited for a response from his hyungs, but was met with silence. After another moment, he could hear one of the members curse. "Shit, that's not good Kookah. Why do you think he kept it from us?" Jimin asked worriedly. "Maybe he's afraid we'll make him step down as leader or something." Responded Taehyung. The six men spent a couple moments looking at each other before all nodding in agreement. They then spent the next several minutes discussing how to take some of the stress off their leader so his condition will hopefully not worsen as quickly.

Namjoon arrived at the dorm about an hour later. The meeting with management hadn’t been fun as he had been informed that one of the janitorial staff had been caught snooping in his studio and they needed him to move to a new one that had a better and more intricate security lock. Just as he was opening the door, the sun reflected off something that was near the door and went directly into his eye. “Heh-itshh, hi-tscciew.” He ended up kind of stumbling his way into the dorm. He muttered a couple of curses under his breath as he tried to maintain his balance. The other six heard Namjoon stumbling about after sneezing which seemed to only reinforce Jungkook’s suspicions.

At some point during the trek back to the dorm, Namjoon's contacts had started to bug him, so the first thing he did after getting into the dorm was head to his room to take out his lenses and grab his glasses. Once he was more comfortable, he decided to join the others in the living room only to be met with questioning looks.

"So how was the meeting?" Hoseok asked. Namjoon sighed as he talked about how a staff member was caught sneaking around his studio, so he's getting a new one.

Jimin was the next one to speak. "Hyung, did you get new glasses? I don't think I've seen you wear those before." Namjoon was quick to respond. "Yes I did. Last month. My prescription got worse enough that my old ones were causing too much eye strain and headaches." He paused for a moment. "Are you guys hungry? For lunch I was thinking of mak-" before Noon could finish his sentence, Seokjin cut in. "Don't worry about making food. I've got it." Seokjin got up and went to the kitchen to get started on lunch.

Namjoon didn't complain about Seokjin taking over lunch prep even though it was his turn to make lunch. The rest of the day was filled with Namjoon doing his usual things, but the other six were secretly doting on him, now convinced that the leader had some kind of illness.

The following day, all of the members had a photoshoot, and Seokjin made sure that Namjoon wore sunglasses when leaving the building. However, it had not occurred to them that camera flashes might be bright enough to cause symptoms of whatever was ailing their leader.

It only took a couple flashes before Namjoon doubled over. "Hek-tschh, hih-tiew." After the double sneeze, Namjoon shook his head as of trying to clear the irritation out of the way. The motion did not go unnoticed by the other members.

"Are you feeling okay hyung, those didn't sound particularly good?" Taehyung asked with minor concern etched into his voice. "I'm fine Taehyung-ah. It was just a couple of sneezes, nothing to worry about." However the others were worried, their profession was apparently aggravating the leader's condition, so Yoongi decided to hold a family meeting when they got home.

Yoongi told everyone about the family meeting on the car ride home. Namjoon was thoroughly confused as everyone but him seemed to know what was going on. They all gathered on the couch and gave each other expectant looks. Eventually Jungkook broke the silence.

"Namjoon-hyung, we know you're sick and hiding it from us." Namjoon was shocked at the statement and it took a moment to formulate a response.

"I'm not sick. I'm perfectly healthy. What makes any of you think I'm sick?"

Yoongi decided to answer this question, "Jungkook saw the research you were doing yesterday on some rare disorder that causes blindness or something, and told us that you had the symptoms listed in the article."

Namjoon began laughing in response to what he was told, and the others looked a bit hurt that he wasn't taking his illness seriously. "Seriously guys I'm fine. I'm not going blind. It's true that I was looking up a kind of rare disorder that I have but it's nothing serious." The others stared at him in blank confusion. "Did you use papago to translate the article?" Jungkook nodded. Namjoon chuckled a little and decided to continue explaining.

"I was looking up something called the photic sneeze reflex. All it means is that I sneeze when I'm suddenly exposed to bright lights." Hoseok sighed a bit exasperatedly before jumping up from the couch.

"Well now that we know that you're not sick and we got worried for nothing, I vote we make popcorn and have a movie night." Everyone nodded in agreement, so Jimin went to heat up the popcorn.

A few minutes later the seven members were huddled up in the living room gearing up for a mini movie marathon.

#BTS #sickfic #sneeze

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lostbbygorl · 3 years

Text

REVERSING EACH DAMAGE (LEVI X F!READER):

Mr. Ackerman frequently visited the Magaths home after that afternoon. Isabel would sometimes accompany her elder brother, but Levi came alone most of the time. Levi and Y/N were getting closer and closer, and unknowingly, Y/N had fallen for Mr. Ackerman! She didn’t understand these new feelings at all, but she did know that no matter how difficult they were, she liked them.

One day, Mr. Ackerman decided to bring his aunt, Ms. Katrina de Lancey and her daughter, Amanda with him, much to Y/N’s annoyance. Ms. Katrina was a nosy, snobby elderly woman. She and Y/N had met in Shiganshina previously when Y/N had gone to visit Nifa and cousin Elias. Lady Katrina had tried her hardest to belittle Y/N, and force her to answer her interrogative questions, which Y/N didn’t give her the satisfaction of succeeding with. Never having been denied anything in her life, Lady Katrina was flabbergasted and decided that Y/N was someone she deeply distrusted and disliked.

“ Ms. L/N, meet Amanda, my daughter”, Lady Katrina introduced. Y/N smiled politely at Amanda. Amanda was a very thin girl with her braided brown hair and square glasses. She was dressed in different shades of brown, and she was awkwardly fidgeting with her fingers. She didn’t smile or say a word the entire trip to the Magath’s household, and occasionally whispered to her mother. Never before had Y/N met such a plain, boring girl!

“ Amanda is engaged to my nephew. They’ll be married by next summer”, Lady Katrina said, staring intensely at Y/N for a reaction. Lady Katrina had figured out that Levi was in love with Y/N, and that unlike the first time they met, Y/N now returned Levi’s feelings. To say she was furious would be an understatement! How dare Levi fall for a poor, rude girl whilst engaged to her daughter (who had no desire to marry Levi either)? Levi winced for a fraction of a second and Y/N remained calm even though her mood just got spoiled. Why was she bothered by this news?

“ That’s terrific news, my lady. I congratulate both Amanda and Mr. Levi. I’m sure they’ll be ever so happy together for the rest of their lives. I can’t wait for the invite, Mr. Ackerman”, Y/N murmured.

Suddenly, the door to the fireplace burst open and an apologetic Mrs. Magath made her presence in the room.

“ Y/N, read this quickly!”, she said out of breath, handing a letter to Y/N.

“ A letter, at 9.00 PM? It must be urgent”, Mr. Magath said. Y/N’s hands trembled as she finished reading. She threw the letter at the wall, and an inhuman shriek left her mouth! Lady Katrina held onto Amanda, and Levi rushed to her side.

“ Stupid, selfish, foolish girl!”Y/N screamed.

“ What happened?”, Uncle Magath queried in a concerned voice.

“ It’s that idiot, Sasha! She went to Yarkcel with the Forsters. The group noticed she was missing for a whole day when a letter notified them of her whereabouts' ', Y/n said, fully crying now.

“ And where is Sasha?”, Uncle Magath asked.

“ In Ragako, miles away from Yarkcel, engaged to Mr. Yeager who she plans on eloping with! Sasha has eloped!”, Y/N loudly completed, breaking down in Levi’s arms.

“ Ragako isn’t that far from here! Theo, grab your coat and your horse this instant! You must find our niece”, Mrs. Magath ordered.

“ Don’t need to tell me twice”, he replied getting up.

“ I’ve been ordered to go home immediately”, Y/N sniffled.

“ I’ll arrange a carriage for you, ma’am”, Levi comforted.

“ I’m deeply sorry for this unexpected fiasco. I assure you that your journey back to Trost will be safe and comfortable. It’s the least I can do”

“ Mr. Levi, I can’t thank you enough!”

“ Don’t mention it, ma’am”.

The scenario back at home was incredibly messy! Mrs. L/N was sobbing on the couch out of worry for her youngest daughter, and the L/N sisters clutched onto their mother. Christa was back from Ermich, and Mr. L/N was out searching for Sasha in Ragako. Christa and Y/N shared a look. The entire night, nobody got a wink of sleep. Mikasa tried getting her mother to eat, whilst Ella fanned her. Ella wasn’t entirely shocked at the news of her sister running off. Sasha was a reckless, mindless flirt! She was desperate to snatch a handsome officer, and now she’d been seduced! Y/N had confided about Mr. Yeager’s true nature to Christa only.

“ He’s a notorious womanizer, Christa, and Sasha had to run off with him of all people! God, I swear I’ll behead that man when I see him next!”, Y/N snarled. Christa stroked her back, attempting to calm her down.

“ You’ll do nothing of the sort. Calm down, we’ll see what happens”, Christa soothed.

“ You’re right. I must divert my mind from all this”, Y/N sighed. She then implored Christa about her time in Ermich, which excited her.

“ Oh it was marvelous for the most part. Remember those letters I sent to Mr. Smith? Well, it turns out Marceline isn’t a true friend! She hid them from him. Mr. Smith reached out to me by himself and apologized for leaving me so suddenly. We spent so much time together!”, Christa giggled. Finally, some good news, Y/N thought. The two sisters chattered all night before falling asleep together. In the morning, they awoke to hyper shouting! At once, they ran downstairs to see what the commotion was all about.

There she was, grinning from ear to ear and dressed in a posh whiter gown: Sasha L/N! She was holding hands with a serious looking Mr. Yeager, and Mrs. L/N was stroking her cheeks and talking hyperly to her. As one track minded as ever, Mrs. L/N was just glad that Sasha came back home married! Rita, the maid, served lunch at the table. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Papa and the rest of the sisters didn’t say a word. It was only Mama and Sasha who spoke. Papa interrogated Mr. Yeager. Sasha finally switched her attention from Mrs. L/N to Y/N, who she was seated beside.

“ Isn’t my husband handsome?”Sasha poked. She was under the impression that Y/N loved Mr. Yeager, and that she had stolen away the heart of her much more popular elder sister’s object of affection. Y/N nodded coldly, not wanting to discuss this imprudent match at all! She made no eye contact with Sasha, and was too busy fearing what events would lay out in the future. Mr. Yeager didn’t love Sasha at all, and he was only after money. Y/N internally winced at the heartbreak Sasha would experience should Mr. Yeager not ditch his womanizing ways.

“ Our wedding was intimate, but my god, it was heavenly!”Sasha gushed.

“ I looked like a goddess in my wedding dress, If I do say so myself, and Mr. Yeager was as handsome as ever. Oh, silly me, I call him Zeke now. Anyways, only Uncle Theo and Auntie Magath were present, along with the priest, Mr. Nick, and Mr. Ackerman. Of course, me and Zeke too”. Y/N’s head shot up at this news. What was Mr. Ackerman doing at Sasha’s wedding?

“ What was Mr. Ackerman doing there?", she questioned.

“ Oh, Mr. Ackerman searched for us everywhere before we got discovered in our hiding spot: a quaint little inn on the outskirts of Ragako”, Sasha began.

“ Who do you think paid for the wedding? Mr. Ackerman had us married at a small church the very next day. But you mustn’t tell anyone, promise you won’t!”Sasha instructed.

Later on that afternoon, Y/N cornered Mr. Yeager. She tried so hard to get her anger under control, but she couldn’t.

“ Listen to me, you blasted buffoon from hell”, she started with a look so vicious Mr. Yeager flinched and took a step back.

“ I know of your true nature, and I know of your drama with Isabel Ackerman. I’ve been enlightened about all the lies you spit”, she continued. Subconsciously, Y/N neared Mr. Yeager’s face.

“ If heartbreak of any sort ails Sasha, and I discover that you’re the root cause of it, nobody will ever hear from you again”, Y/N threatened.

“ I’ll expose every dirty secret and lie of yours. Moreover, if word about the little fiasco between you and Isabel gets out, you’ll be met with the same fate. You’re so fond of playing with the adolescent feelings of 15-year-old girls and leading them on, now you must keep your promise to Sasha. Never again will you court or seduce any other young girl, as Sasha is now your wife who you claimed to be so enamoured with back at Ragako. Have a nice life”, she spat before stomping off to her room. Christa sensed Y/N’s disapproval and anger the second she slammed the library door shut and dashed upstairs to her room. Christa entered the room tentatively, horrified upon witnessing the sight of her dear sister sprawled on her bed, weeping into a pillow.

“ Y/N? Y/N? Oh, do answer me, darling. Are you still dismayed about the wedding after threatening Mr. Yeager?”, Christa urged, gently shaking Y/N.

“ Not only that”, Y/N sniffled. She finally sat up and wiped her tears.

“ Remember when I told you that Mr. Ackerman proposed to me? Well, it turns out ages after that little event, I’m hopelessly in love with him”, Y/N tearfully confessed.

“ Mr. Ackerman paid for Sasha’s wedding and all the commissions and all that. I’m not entirely sure, but I think he was behind your rekindling with Mr. Smith too”, she finished.

“ All of that is great. Why do you cry?”, Christa probed.

“ It’s because I have a strong feeling he’s fallen out of love with me! I’m much lower than him in rank socially, and I’ve rejected him once in a horribly rude manner, and now with this whole elopement tosh, I’m from a family ripe with scandal”, Y/N sobbed, her figure shaking so much even the bed creaked.

“ Why would any man of birth as noble as Mr. Ackerman still love me? He’s over me, and I’ve just learned to love him”, she finished, her voice laced with bitter regret and sorrow. Christa pulled her into her chest in a hug.

“ If he truly loves you, he’ll overlook all of this”, she assured.

“ If he didn’t truly love you, he wouldn’t have gone as far as to search for Sasha and secure her marriage. If your hunch is right, as they always are, and he’s urged Mr. Smith to contact me again, then that’s not for my happiness, it’s for yours. Don’t you see, Y/N? He’s doing everything in his power to win you over! He’s fixing all his mistakes”, Christa explained, her expression one that said: “ How does someone of your level of intelligence not realize the things I just enlightened you about?”

Y/N smiled at her sister. She realized how stupid she had sounded 2 minutes ago.

“ Christa, what would I do without you? All you’ve said makes so much sense to me now. I just wish there was a way for me to meet Mr. Ackerman now. He’s the person I most wish to see as of present. And oh how I wish to wed him. But alas, that could never be”, Y/N sighed.

“ Why not?”, Christa inquired.

“ For he’s engaged to another woman against his will. And worse, she seems to be highly uninterested in him, and he has never been interested in her".

#captain levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #aot fanfiction #aot levi ackerman

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whereflowersbloom · 4 years

Text

Reflections.

I once dreamed of making someone happy. Conner thinks to himself.

It was a simple dream that He almost gave up on. Happiness is intangible, enigmatic. It was a concept difficult for him to grasp. Happiness proved not to be so simple, after all. Simple to think about, sometimes abstract, incredibly hard to reach out for. It was something people looked for their entire life. It’s said even for human its impossible to be completely content without desiring more. He had read somewhere that a joyful life was made up of joyful moments, gracefully strung together by trust, gratitude and inspiration. At times he wondered if he was capable of experiencing happiness. But the question plaguing his mind was; could he make anyone happy? He felt it slipping between his fingers every time he believed he was closer to it. He observed his hand, this hand was created to serve as Lex Luthor’s puppet. Then Clark gave him a new purpose, fight crime, work to bring justice to those who are oppressed, protect them and the world. But this hand longed to holds another. One that belonged to a certain girl he knew well. He had no doubts something was missing from his life and he was desperate to get it. But he couldn’t help but think of that tiny, pale, hand filling him with warmth he never knew he craved for. Until he grabbed hold of it and Conner didn’t want to let go of it.

He felt as if he had no right. And being honest he didn’t. He wasn’t like her. Perhaps he couldn’t express his desires, emotions, transform them into words. Humans also said actions speak louder than words, right? For the first time, being quick to act could prove to be rather convenient in his case.

~~~

Raven stared off into emptiness, deep in thoughts, her brows knitted, as if she was concentrated trying to solve a puzzle. She hadn’t touched her tea. Then Donna decided to speak. “Okay. What’s going on with you today.”

Raven snaps out of it and looks at Donna, realizing she’d been too absorbed in her own world. She sips her tea slowly. It was getting cold. No reason to be mysterious with Donna. She could use her perspective. “Do you have any idea why Conner is acting strange lately?” She asks her Amazonian friend, curious if she had the answer, noticed something she didn’t.

Donna stares at her friend for a couple of minutes, before tipping her head back and letting out a sonorous laugh. “I simply cannot believe this. You know for an empath. You have no idea what’s going on around you.” she says pointedly, raising her left eyebrow, her shoulders still shaking as the giggles subside.

Raven massaged her temples and sighs. “You know I try to set boundaries. I don’t want to invade his personal space or anyone’s.” And it was true. She found a way to let her walls up preventing her from trespassing her teammates emotional property.

“In a tower full of teenagers that must be hard. You have my respect.” Donna replies solemnly.

“Raven, I’m serious. The only reason I found it funny is because, if there’s anything certain in this universe, it’s that Kon-El has a crush on you. I’m pretty sure it was written in the stars by the Gods before he was even created. Look at the poor boy.” Donna explains logically.

“I can’t say I agree with you. We are just friends.” Raven looks away blushing. “Even if it was true. Then why hasn’t he said anything yet?” She battles internally, not sure if she should believe her friend. Donna wasn’t lying though. She knew it.

Donna shrugs lightly, resting her chin on her hand, pondering her next words. “Maybe he has been saying it and you just haven’t been listening.” She places a hand on Raven’s shoulder, sliming at her warmly. “Think about it carefully.” She said those words as she walked out of the room.

Raven doesn’t say anything. Disbelief and curiosity struck her speechless. Her mind races with words she cannot utter. She had to meditate on this.

~~~

They were at the library. It was a lovely, quiet escape from the bustling city. It sat in the middle of Jump City, built in the 80’s after its old incarnation had burned down. She was reading, as usual,she was always reading. Sometimes it’s a history book, sometimes it’s a fiction book. There’s countless topics, genres, so much to learn and study. She makes annotations on a notebook she carries around.

After a few minutes, Raven felt Conner’s gaze on her and realised he had been staring the whole time. She found she didn’t mind, they were friends but it made her feel self-conscious, her cheeks reddened. Conner’s stare felt different from others, it was intense, warm rather than cold, expressing affection, and rather than making her feel on edge, it made her feel safe.

“What are you reading now.?” A curious voice asked her, getting her attention. He looks up at her, just blinking for a few seconds, smiling only the way Conner did, making him look so boyish and mischievous, those dazzling light blue eyes. She cleared her throat, and shook her head, blushing at the thoughts that kept popping into her head. She shows her the pile of books she got, about astronomy, psychology and some romance novels she managed to find. She mentions it’s his turn to show her what he’s reading. He seems embarrassed when he shows her the cover of the book and tells her that it’s poetry. Oh. She did notice he was showing interest in poetry lately.

“Always poetry” she teases him. “They’re not always poetry.” he tells her, as if he has anything to prove, as if she wouldn’t think it’s so very much him. He looks away, slightly blushing, setting his mouth in a pout. Raven giggles, finding his reaction enchantingly cute. Mumbles he should recite some to her when they go back to the Tower. Conner runs his hand through his dark hair, trying his best to overcome his shyness and mutters. “Maybe.”

He looks at his watch and rubs his neck awkwardly. Hesitant to speak. “Would you like to get a cup of tea?” He asked her, gulping. Waiting for her answer. He stumbles over his words, but gathers courage to speak confidently. “You usually have your tea around 6:00pm.” Open mouthed Raven is surprised he knew exactly what time she had her tea. Her mind goes back to Donna’s words. For a minute her theory isn’t unfathomable. It makes sense. She smiles brightly at him. “I guess it’s time for tea and a snack.” He offered his hand to Raven and she took it, helping her stand up. Conner took her books from the table, carrying them for her and they walked out of the library.

~~~

They decide to try a new place they heard about. ‘Saint Aymes’. Its windows are bordered by wisteria and other seasonal blooms, bringing a sense of spring to this tranquil, autumn day. Walking in they were instantly drawn to the warm atmosphere. The plants gave it a cozy, earthy feel. It felt like a secret, upscale treehouse, it smelled like roasted coffee beans, vanilla, cinnamon and freshly baked pastries.

She stands in front of the glass, examining every single cake and muffin, searching for the one with that looks like it would taste the best. She’d happily stare there all day to decide, Conner next to her attempting to contain his excitement, her sweet-toothed best friend. Knowing him he’d want to try every possible option. She can see some vanilla buttercream buns, all kind of donuts, strawberry cream filled danish, some lemon cakes, but there’s a queue forming behind them, people coughing and tapping their feet, and the cashier’s rolling her eyes. “Just let me know which one you want. You can go find a place for us.” Conner offers. She considers it and agrees. Pointing a mini lemon raspberry cheesecake. Raven whispers a ‘thank you.’

She looks around and finds a couch with a table in the corner, the perfect spot for them, there’s some paintings on the wall, hanging. She leaned against the couch, sinking tiredly into the plush cushions as exhaustion sank in. Yes, this was rather nice in its own way. A peaceful, cold autumn afternoon, enjoying a cup of tea and pastries with her friend.

Conner comes back carrying two steaming cups, one was her Earl Grey tea, the other she was certain it was hot chocolate. It was his favorite. he placed down both cups on the table in front of them. A staff member brought them a plate with all kind of pastries. Thee was barely enough room on the table now. Raven looked at him suppressing a giggle. Conner blinked several times and shrugged his shoulders shyly. “I was hungry.”

Before she said a word about her tea. He said “I know it. Milk and two teaspoons of honey, right?” He speaks, lifting his right eyebrow, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. Conner was strangely observant in that way. It struck her a sweet gesture.

They were too engrossed in their conversation, the endless topics they talked about, about culture, politics, books, the list was infinite. The way Raven laughs quietly, her smart comments. He liked to think they were close, doing things friends usually do, bonding, having fun. And yet. There was something remote about her, he thought. Something unreachable, like the watery depths beneath a frozen lake. He wouldn’t mind submerging, until he found the bottom, drowning in that mystic, pure, vast lake.

All the pastries almost gone except for the last one a chocolate walnut strudel. It looked mouthwatering delicious. She finished her tea and she was still a little hungry.but she couldn’t take it. Surely Conner picked it. She can’t. She raises her eyes, decided to give it up, when they meet his gaze. They are sitting there staring at each other, it feels like time stops. It takes him less than a minute to understand what she wanted, and urgently trying to hide.

“Here,” he says, breaking some of it off, exactly in a half, he was finally good at calculating the amount of strength he needed to use, so he didn’t destroy things. “You can have half.” Something that tended to happen more than he wanted to admit.

“But, it’s yours and you love chocolate!” Raven said anxiously. He’d done enough for her.

“Nope. I got it for both.” His face unconsciously getting closer. “I want you to have half.” He speaks frankly. Raven opens her mouth to say he didn’t have to do it, too late, he cuts in.

“No buts.” He stops her and grins cheerfully. “What’s the point in spending an evening, eating a tasty dessert with your best friend if you can’t share it with her?”

“But you’re always doing things for me.” She bits her lips. Old habit, as they say hard to die. He gave her so much. She pondered how he could be so kindhearted, good-natured, and selfless. She wasn’t referring just to sharing a pastry or his gallantry. It was everything.

One look and she gives up the idea of saying no. He seemed so impeccable , innocent, sometimes too good for this corrupted world. She doesn’t reply, sighs defeated and takes the piece from him and tastes it. It was exquisite. “Thank you.” She says to him. She thanks him wholeheartedly, warmly. She couldn’t imagine spending days like this with anyone else. And Conner can see the gratitude showing in her cosmic eyes. He understands. He simply smiles.

Maybe Donna was right. Did Conner had a crush on her? Actions. ‘You aren’t listening’. The signs are all there. He knows everything about her, the details. She could not have predicted growing this close with another person in such a short amount of time. She’s been living in the a Tower for years with Gar, Jaime and the others. Conner was different. What began as a mere trickle in a stream suddenly grew like the currents of a river. She was almost shocked at how easy it felt to be attuned to each other’s rhythms. As though they had known each other for years. How did she feel though? It was so sudden. She didn’t want to find out for now.

Conner thinks perhaps happiness isn’t as complex as humans make it sound. No. It doesn’t have to take an entire lifetime to look for, search frantically everywhere. In his own words, his mind, his being. Happiness was this moment. Moments with her, a fraction of infinity. That was his very own version of happiness.

More konrae @grassfour @ravenfan1242 @andthendk 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈💙💜💜💙💜

#konrae #conrae #raven x conner #kon el #conner kent #raven roth #teen titans #donna troy #lex luthor #clark kent #dc fandom #dc universe #writing #happiness #first crush #feelings #fluff #conner needs a hug #superboy

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skzleeknow12 · 3 years

Text

Betrayal - Stray Kids

Summary: After years of losing touch after a harsh betrayal, CEO Park Seolhee is reunited with her best friends as they sign a business deal. However, she is not the same as she was all those years ago, so how will she react when the members of Stray Kids ask for her forgiveness as well as a rekindling of their friendship?

Warnings: None (this is my first time writing a fanfic/drabble/scenario idk what to call it lol, so it’s not as good as the other stories on Tumblr but I think it will be enjoyable to read so please do read it and maybe repost it too! Also, the summary is not to good and makes the story seem more boring than it actually is hehe. Thank you in advance for reading this :)

Word count: Approximately 6k

…

“Miss Kim, please tell me my schedule for next week,” Seolhee said as she tiredly leaned back in her chair. This week had been anything but relaxing; calling it chaotic would be an understatement. Seolhee was just glad that after this she got to go home; her plan for the weekend was simple: sit in bed and watch kdramas whilst stuffing her mouth with pepperoni pizza.

“Of course Madam,” Yoojin said as she took out the timetable. The two were close friends but they had to act professional at work; the last thing Seolhee needed was for her position as CEO to be taken away due to something as small as her not talking formally. She had built this company from scratch, sleepless nights and a diagnosis of depression had been the consequences but at the end of the day, she was satisfied with what she had achieved. Of course, Yoojin had been by her side the entire time, making it more worthwhile. “JYP Entertainment recently got in touch with our advertising team and they really wanted their boy group Stray Kids to wear our outfits from the Cle clothing line for their latest upcoming comeback. At 9:00 am on Monday, you have a meeting with them, all the final details will be discussed then and our fashion directors will bring the samples to see which member would suit which one. After that -” She had been about to continue when Seolhee had cut her off, startling her as she immediately sat upright in her seat, staring with wide eyes. “Madam, are you alright?”

“Did… did you just say Stray Kids? As in JYP’s boy group?” Seolhee asked with a shaky voice.

“Yes, Madam I did… oh no,” Yoojin said and she instantly realised why Seolhee had reacted the way she had. She poured her a glass of water and sat down as she watched her gulp the water down in three big takes. “Seolhee, it’s them, isn’t it? Your old friends?” Seolhee didn’t say anything about her dropping the formalities as she reluctantly shook her head.

“Yoojin, what do I do?” she asked her best friend desperately, “I never wanted to see them again, now I have to work with them? I can’t do that.” Flashbacks appeared before her and she swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to cry at the pain of the hurtful memories.

“Listen, this could be a good thing,” Yoojin said, holding her hand across the desk, “this could finally give you the coverage you need. You left without letting them apologise, you basically disappeared from their lives. I know this has always tormented you, so this could be the perfect opportunity to end everything once and for all. And if not, maybe you could become friends again?” Seolhee immediately stood up, slamming her hands onto the desk in front of her, a scene which was not uncommon to Yoojin as she just sighed at her friends agitated state.

“No,” Seolhee began, staring out of the big window, “I don’t need any coverage. Cancel this business deal; we will not be taking part in it.” Yoojin widened her eyes and tried to think of a different approach.

“Seolhee, listen to yourself,” she said urgently as she took her friend by the shoulders. “You would be letting go of such an amazing opportunity. If Stray Kids advertised our clothing line, think of how popular it would get. This is such an amazing offer; it would help our company so much.” Seolhee thought about it for a second before she walked towards the window, her back facing Yoojin.

“No Yoojin,” she said quietly, “I’ve managed to make our company the top in the whole of Korea; I did that myself. In the past years, we’ve been able to extend our business all the way to the western markets, everyone knows us. We don’t need Stray Kids to help us out, we are perfectly fine by ourselves.”

“Listen, I know that our company is the top one, I’m not denying your hard work,” Yoojin said softly, “but this could help us maintain our position at the top. We have a lot of competitors who would always be willing to let Stray Kids advertise them. This offer has fallen right into our laps without us even having to do anything. We can’t let it go.”

“We’ve had BTS, Twice, Itzy and so many more advertise for us,” Seolhee said, “and they’re the biggest things at the moment. We’ll be fine, we don’t need Stray Kids.”

“But Seolhee, Stray Kids are the highest wanted group for brand ambassador at the moment,” Yoojin pleaded, “we could benefit from them so much. Listen, you need to think as a CEO, ok? What would you tell everyone if asked why you rejected this business deal? That you’re still hurting from your broken friendship? You need to make sure your personal life doesn’t affect your professional life, and you know I’m right.” Seolhee looked back at her, and she didn’t want to admit it, but Yoojin was right. All of her hard work could go to waste if another company partnered with Stray Kids, they would go to the top and her company would lose its top position. She couldn’t let that happen. With a hesitant nod, she looked at Yoojin, who seemed beyond satisfied that Seolhee had listened to her. She didn’t want to see her best friend’s hard work go to waste just because of her past.

“Fine,” Seolhee said, “but don’t tell them that I know they’re coming, and don’t tell them that I’m the CEO. I’ll stay professional during the meeting and leave immediately after, ok?” Yoojin walked towards her and engulfed her in a hug.

“Of course,” she said as she patted her back, “don’t worry, it will all be fine. No one is forcing you to talk to them. You do what makes you comfortable, ok?”

It was Sunday night and Seolhee had been tossing and turning in her bed for what felt like an eternity. She was beyond nervous about having to meet the members again, what would she even say to them? No, she wouldn’t talk to them about anything apart from the business deal. She would leave immediately after to make sure they wouldn’t be able to say anything to her. Why would they want to talk to her anyway? They were the ones who grew tired of her. Even though it was so long ago, the pain was still fresh whenever Seolhee thought about it.

(Flashback)

Seolhee excitedly rang the doorbell at Felix’s house as she held her self-baked cake in her hands, making sure the card was stuck at the bottom of the box. She couldn’t believe that after so much hard work and pain, the boys were finally debuting. She knew how much they had waited to hear this news and she was beyond happy for them. She was a bit weirded out by the fact that none of them told her and that she had to find out through her classmates congratulating them on Instagram, but she shrugged it off as she saw a figure approaching the door. The door opened and there stood Felix’s mother, smiling brightly at her.

“Seolhee, it’s so good to see you!” she said as she carefully hugged the girl, making sure not to accidentally ruin the cake in her hands. “Is that for the boys? They’re in the living room, come with me.” She led her to the living room and whilst they were walking there, Seolhee heard the voice of all of them laughing, as well as the sound of an unfamiliar girl. Miss Lee’s phone suddenly rang so she excused herself as she answered it. Seolhee put the cake down on the small table in the hallway as she checked her appearance. She picked it up and was about to enter the room when they all erupted into another fit of loud laughter, and she peeked through the door and saw the girl laughing at a picture from one of the boy’s phones. Of Seolhee. Their backs were towards her so they couldn’t have known she was there, and the girl was too busy laughing to notice her too. Seolhee quickly stepped back, not wanting to be seen but she still decided to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“The amount of confidence she has to post these kind of pictures!” the girl laughed and to Seolhee’s horror, the boys were laughing alongside her. “And what is this?! She literally looks like a pregnant woman filling herself because of her cravings!”

“I know, we always told her to eat less but she never took us seriously!” Seolhee’s heart broke as she heard Chan dissing her weight. Chan, the one who had always told her she was perfect no matter what.

“Yeah, she could easily eat 10 boxes of pizza and at the end of it whine about being hungry, just like a fat pig I swear to god!” she never thought she would hear such things come out of Minho and Jisung’s mouths, sure they teased her but she thought they did it in a friendly way. And she always thought she ate the right amount, not just living off of air like the girls at school.

“Her visuals remind me of a warthog!” Hyunjin laughed and Seolhee felt her heart rip apart. The others joined in with equally insulting observations, mostly about how fat she was and how out of place she looked. She looked down at herself and instantly shuddered. They were right, she was ugly. She had never paid much attention to it, she always thought she was average among the class of overly-skinny girls at school, but after hearing her own friends say those things about her, she couldn’t help but think how stupid she had been to think she was fine. She had allowed them to see her in her worst states, for instance during the many movie nights they had she never wore makeup, always opted to wear baggy sweatpants and t-shirts as well as keeping her hair in a messy bun. She didn’t realize how awful she had looked to them; she always thought they didn’t care about those kind of small things. Her mother wasn’t in the world anymore to be able to tell her these kinds of things, so she had never tried. From the brief seconds she had looked at the girl in the room with them, she had noted how gorgeous and petite she was; of course the boys would prefer her. Just at that moment, Felix’s mother came back, and noticing the silent tears dripping down Seolhee’s face, she immediately became worried.

“Seolhee, why are you crying?” she asked and Seolhee immediately heard the others turn silent. She heard someone curse lowly and the next second she saw Felix standing in the doorway of the living room, panic all across his face.

“Seolhee I -” he started but was cut off as she hurriedly mumbled to his mother that she had to be somewhere. In her hurry to leave, she accidentally dropped the cake and felt guilty that Felix’s mother had to clean it up, but she didn’t turn back. She could hear the boys shouting after her but she didn’t listen to them. She heard them running after her and quickly crossed the road whilst simultaneously waving down a taxi. The taxi came at such a high speed and somehow managed to stop only a few seconds before reaching her. In her fright, she fell to the ground as she screamed, and she heard the boys from the other side of the road. To her horror, they were about to cross the road and the last thing she wanted was to hear their excuses, so she quickly stood up and ran to the side of the taxi, stopping the driver as he got out to check if she was ok.

“Please… start driving,” she said quickly and he gave her a worried look but obliged. They zoomed off and the last thing Seolhee saw was the faces of the boys as they looked distraught, some of them running their fingers through their hair frustratedly.

Her phone had been blowing up with messages from them, both from their group chat as well as privately; even Felix’s mother had asked her what had happened, and their phone calls seemed never-ending. Finally after she could take it no more, she blocked all their numbers and left the group chat, as well as not bothering to listen to the countless voicemails they had sent. She would never trust them again, no matter what they said. They came to her house many times, but she never answered the door, and after growing tired from knocking, they would eventually leave, telling her they would be back the next day. She hated this, so after the 5th day she decided to phone her friend from a business camp she had attended a few months ago.

“Yoojin?” she said brokenly as she ignored the girls energetic greeting.

“Seolhee? What happened, are you ok?” she asked urgently and her heart broke as she heard her friend completely break down in tears. “Listen where are you right now? I’m coming to your apartment ok; it will take 45 minutes but I’ll try and get there as fast as possible, ok?”

“No… no, don’t come, I’m f-fine,” Seolhee stuttered and she heard Yoojin groan agitatedly.

“You’re not ok, I’m on my way,” she said firmly and all Seolhee could do was nod, “I’m already in my car and I’m leaving now, I’ll be there soon ok? Love you.”

As soon as Yoojin ended the phone, Seolhee immediately went to her room and locked herself inside, shrinking down in front of the mirror as she looked at herself. She had never been girly, but she thought she was fine the way she was. She never thought her friends would focus on something so materialistic like weight and looks rather than her heart. She had been so mistaken. After what felt like an eternity of crying, she didn’t know what force overcame her but she found herself walking towards the washroom and frantically started searching through the drawers to find a razor. She had never self-harmed before, she had never even thought of doing it, not even when her parents died, but at that current moment it looked so appealing. Without thinking twice, she slid the razor down her arm and winced as she felt the sharp pain. She watched the blood drip and it strangely satisfied her. She heard frantic knocking on the front door and realised that Yoojin had arrived. She felt numb and gave no reaction when Yoojin freaked out over her bloody arm, but she finally opened up about what happened as Yoojin tended to her wounds on the sofa. She expected Yoojin to get up and leave, but instead she saw her go to her bedroom. She didn’t feel like following her and just stayed on the sofa, staring off into the distance. Yoojin snapped her out of her trance when she gently pulled her up, and when Eunji looked around, she saw that Yoojin had packed most of her stuff.

“You’re coming with me,” she said firmly and started dragging her towards the door. Seolhee looked around her small apartment, she had made so many memories here and she felt emotional to depart from it so suddenly. “Don’t worry, we’ll come back after a few days to get the rest of your stuff. But you’re not staying here yourself. You’re living with me in my apartment now.” Seolhee didn’t even protest and watched Yoojin in silence as she locked her apartment door whilst dragging her suitcase, as well as simultaneously pulling her along with her. When they reached the ground floor and were making their way to Yoojin’s car, Seolhee suddenly heard someone shout her name and recognized her friends running towards her. She heard Yoojin curse under her breath as she quickly put Seolhee’s suitcase into the boot of the car.

“Seolhee!” Felix called as they ran up to her. To their pain, Seolhee turned her face away from them and didn’t answer, but not before they all caught a glimpse of her puffy tear-stained cheeks. Yoojin glared at all of them before guiding Seolhee to the passenger seat, gently yet firmly pushing her inside.

“Leave,” she harshly told the boys, who looked surprised and confused. They had met Yoojin only a few times but they knew her to be bright and energetic like Seolhee; this person looked different. “You have no right to talk to her.”

“Let us talk to Seolhee,” Changbin said but Yoojin shook her head.

“No way,” she hissed, “and don’t ever come here again. Seolhee’s going to live with me now, and if I see you again in front of her I won’t hesitate to beat you all up.” Changbin looked like he was about to say something back but Jeongin’s timid voice interrupted him.

“Y-you’re leaving Seolhee?” he asked painfully, talking to Seolhee who had somehow forgotten to close the car door. She sniffed softly and Yoojin quickly shut it and glared at the boys again.

“Really I’m shocked,” she snarled at them, “I thought you guys were different, but you’re all just jerks. She’s leaving, and don’t even think about coming in front of her again. You’ve hurt her enough, both physically and emotionally. Go to your friend who you so easily talked crap about Seolhee with.” With that she turned around and got into the driver’s seat, and the boys watched as she gave Seolhee a hug whilst wiping the tears from her face before reversing and leaving. That was the last time they saw or heard from her.

Seolhee stood outside her company’s building and was genuinely considering phoning in ill just so that she could avoid the meeting, but she later decided against it.

“You need to get over it once and for all,” she told herself, “show them how great you’ve become.” She took a deep breath before walking inside. She checked the time on her vintage watch. 8:39 am. She still had 20 minutes left so she decided to go to her office, hoping Yoojin would be there, and she was right. As soon as she entered, Yoojin engulfed the younger girl in a big hug.

“I’m really proud of you for going through with this,” she whispered, “I’m here for you, ok?” Seolhee nodded and accepted the bottle of water Yoojin had handed over to her. The two sat down and talked and before she knew it, Seolhee realised it was 8:50 am and she had to make her way to the meeting room, as well as check in on her colleagues and workers on the way there. She greeted anyone she saw and they greeted her back with a big smile. She was known for being a cold but kind, firm but soft CEO, and this dynamic of hers caused her to be loved by everyone for it. She reached the meeting room and she could already hear the boys talking and laughing loudly. She sighed deeply and put her cold CEO gear on before opening the door. She strode in as the boys quickly scrambled up to greet her and avoided the looks on their faces as they looked at her in shock. She greeted her fashion team and engaged in small talk with them as she set her things on down on the table before turning to look at the boys, who were all frozen in place.

“Do you usually just stare at CEO’s who you partner with or do you actually show some respect?” she asked coolly and their manager immediately apologized on their behalf whilst hissing at them to bow in respect. They did so clumsily and Seolhee bit back a smirk; maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She sat down as her workers followed suit and she impatiently gestured for them to do the same.

“Madam, these are the outfits for our new line that you chose,” one of her workers said as she passed Seolhee a folder. Seolhee looked through it, humming whenever she saw a good design.

“Hmm, these are good, well done,” she said, smiling as she handed the folder back, causing the fashion team to sigh with relief and smile back at her. Seolhee turned to look at the boys, all who were looking at her expectantly. She raised her eyebrows and they quickly diverted their gazes to the table. “This is your 2nd year as a group, am I correct?” she asked and they looked confused as to why she asked a question to which she already knew the answer. Their manager nudged Chan, and she knew enough about them to know that he was their leader. She never had the heart to find out more about their group so other than their names, positions and debut she didn’t know anything about the group.

“Um, yes, it’s our second year,” Chan said, trying to sound smooth and stable. Seolhee nodded in acknowledgement and gave him a forced smile.

“Congratulations, I understand this is a hard field to get into. I actually used to know some people who wanted to become singers too.” she said coldly, but masked it with a smile. “Ok, getting back to business, I assume you’ve chosen the designs you prefer for yourselves?” the boys looked at each other before nervously shaking their heads. They saw the way she rolled her eyes and knew she wasn’t only angry due to this. There was a lot more to that eye roll. Their manager immediately stood up, bowing repeatedly as he apologized.

“I’m extremely sorry Madam, we will make sure not to waste your time again in the future,” he said and Seolhee signaled for him to sit down, smiling a little.

“Don’t worry, people can make mistakes,” she said with a steely gaze, “however please don’t let this happen again, some mistakes can never be forgiven.” She didn’t miss the look the boys gave each other and smirked again. She was enjoying this. With a tilt of her head, she signaled for one of her workers to start the presentation on the big screen. She stood up, casually taking her blazer off, and throwing it on the chair whilst rolling her sleeves of her dress shirt up. The boys couldn’t deny how well she fitted the title of CEO, with her white shirt, black blazer, black pants with matching black heels as well as her hair falling over her forearms in smooth waves. She was very petite, not to mention how her light makeup made her glow. None of them missed the flash of a long bandage on her arm, but she quickly turned her body so that it wasn’t visible. “Focus please,” she said as she directed them out of their trance. “Ok, we have been working on this clothing line for a while and your CEO seemed to think that your comeback concept would go well with the clothes. My colleague will pass you around folders with the samples so you can see how they feel, and the designs are in there too, so please decide what you would like. But before we start that, your CEO asked us to design the set for your music video, so my colleagues read your lyrics and were able to come up with images like these.” She gestured towards the screen where a series of pictures as well as drawings of different sets were displayed, and the boys couldn’t deny how good they looked. Seolhee led them through the presentation and before she knew it, it was already 12:00 pm.

“Please look at the clothing designs and let us know by the next meeting which will be…” she said, looking at a girl at the back of the room.

“This coming Friday, 9:00 am,” a steely voice said and the boys turned in surprise to look at Yoojin, who glared back at them.

“Thank you, Miss Kim,” Seolhee said, smiling. The fashion team bowed in respect and left the room, leaving only Seolhee, Yoojin, Stray Kids and their manger in the room. Their manager received a call so he left the room to take it. Seolhee’s smile disappeared as she looked at the boys. “It was a pleasure meeting you, I’ll take my leave now. Please feel free to eat your lunch in our canteen if you feel the need to do so.” She bowed respectfully and made her way towards the door, not before she felt a hand grab onto her. She looked at Jeongin, who looked like he was about to cry and she felt her heart clench for a second before she harshly pulled her arm from his grasp.

“Mr Yang,” she said, trying not to stutter, “I don’t think this behaviour is very appropriate.”

“Seolhee, please,” Jeongin pleaded and Seolhee simply sighed deeply as she looked at the others, all who had the same desperate look on their faces.

“Seolhee, we need to talk,” Seungmin said and Seolhee just scoffed, shocking all of them. She had always been so sweet, this new, cold person was not their friend they remembered.

“It’s Miss Park to you,” she said coldly, “and we have nothing to talk about.” At that moment Stray Kids’ manager came in with an apologetic look on his face.

“Boys, I’m sorry but I have to go home urgently, you’ll be able to get back yourselves right?” he asked and they nodded so he quickly left. Seolhee gestured towards the door, but the boys didn’t move. She sighed deeply and looked to Yoojin for help. Yoojin stepped forward and held onto Seolhee’s hand protectively.

“We have been kind enough to sign a business partnership with you,” Yoojin said, “but please do not get too comfortable, you can leave now. We will meet at the next meeting.” The two girls turned around but Jeongin grabbed onto Seolhee’s arm tightly, accidentally gripping her where her razor cut was still not fully healed. She had cut it in such a harsh way that one of her veins had been ruptured and therefore, it had never closed up properly. If any harsh force was put on the bandages, it would start to bleed. Seolhee winced loudly and Jeongin quickly let go of her. She cursed under her breath as she felt her sleeve slowly get wet, and Yoojin realised what had happened.

“Sit down,” she told her quickly and led her back to her seat, “I’ll bring the first aid kit, ok? I’ll be back soon, don’t worry,” and then whispered in her ear “ignore them.” Seolhee nodded as she took her blazer off again, wincing as she saw her white dress shirt’s sleeve covered with blood. She briefly looked up and saw the look of horror on the boys faces as they looked at the scene in front of them.

“Did… did I do that?” Jeongin whispered, and Seolhee sighed as she shook her head, and pulled her sleeve up. The boys seemed unsure of what to do so they decided to sit down again and opted to stare at her. She finally grew annoyed and spoke up.

“Stop staring at me!” she snapped, shocking all of them with the bitterness in her tone.

“You look well,” Hyunjin started but stopped as soon as she shot him a glare.

“Are you sure I don’t look too overweight or ugly?” she mocked and they all looked away in guilt.

“Seolhee, about that-” Chan started but was cut off as she waved her hand in dismissal.

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it,” she said coldly. At that moment, her phone rang and she saw Yoojin’s caller ID. “Yoojin? What happened? Oh you have got to be kidding me! How did the bandages run out? No, there is no way I’m staying in this room! No way… urgh fine, I hate you by the way.” She ended the call and harshly threw her phone on the carpeted floor, watching it bounce off but no damage was done.

“We’re really-” Felix started but was cut off.

“I said,” she started coldly, “I don’t want to hear it. Leave, the meeting is over.”

“No, we won’t leave until we sort this out,” Minho said firmly and Seolhee scoffed.

“What is there to sort out, huh?” she demanded. “The fact that you guys talked crap about me behind my back, when I thought you were by best friends? I showed myself to you in my most vulnerable positions and you took advantage of that and ruined every ounce of self-confidence I had. You lied, saying how I was perfect the way I was but as soon as you found someone prettier and more desirable than me it didn’t even take you a second to replace me like that. You didn’t tell me about your debut, I had to find out through our classmates on Instagram.” She took a deep breath, realising her outburst ruined her calm CEO image. She began with a softer yet firmer tone as she said, “There’s nothing to sort out, we had a friendship, we made good memories that were probably only good for me and probably burdensome for you all. But that’s in the past now, we are colleagues for a few months, and that’s it.”

“Seolhee, we really miss you,” Jisung said, “we miss your friendship. It was hell when you left, but we didn’t even know where we could find you. Please, let’s restart everything.”

“We don’t know what happened, we just became close with Dahee whilst you were at camp and we hung out every day but-”

“Shut up, I’m not here to find out about your friendship with that girl, ok?” Seolhee’s tone was beyond harsh and the boys felt upset that they were the reason behind it. “I genuinely don’t care, I stopped caring about you guys on that day. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

“We promise we didn’t mean anything we said, you were and are perfect!” Chan exclaimed, walking towards her. His heart broke as he saw the way she flinched and held onto her arm. And that was when he realised. “Are… are we the reason for that?” he asked, gesturing towards her arm. She didn’t reply and his suspicion was confirmed. “Seolhee I’m-”

“Don’t apologise,” she said with no expression, “I wasn’t good enough, you were just telling the truth.”

“No, we weren’t, we were stupid and reckless!” Seungmin said and the others nodded desperately. “We were just having a good time with Dahee before and she suddenly started saying those things and we just carried it on, but we didn’t mean any part of what we said.”

“We had no idea you were standing there either,” Felix said and Seolhee scoffed for the umpteenth time that day.

“So you’re saying if I wasn’t there you would have said those things and not been sorry?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Wow, backstabber much. You’re all pathetic. Anyway, I’m not upset anymore. What hurt was how you constantly lied to me and made fun of me. You broke my trust, forever. You can say you didn’t mean it as much as you want, it doesn’t change the fact that when you found a girl better than me you immediately replaced me, in the most harsh way too. If you had just told me you didn’t want to be friends it wouldn’t have hurt this much. I even baked a cake for you, even though you all know how much I hate baking. I spent ages on the card too, all for nothing.”

“Dahee is in no way better than you,” Jeongin assured desperately, tears running down his cheeks. Seolhee wanted to hug him, but she had been hurt too much. “We’re not even friends anymore, she wanted to be friends with us just because we were in the debut line-up. She’s fake, she doesn’t care about how you do. Please, come back to us.” They saw different emotions pass over Seolhee’s face and they all expected her to accept, but their hearts dropped when she hesitantly shook her head.

“Did.” She muttered.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Minho asked, confused.

“You said Dahee doesn’t care about you the way I do,” she said, keeping her head down so that they couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes, “I did care about you. Past tense. Not anymore. Never again.”

“Seolhee, we regretted it immediately. You’re our best friend, we can’t live without you,” Hyunjin said, his voice cracking as he cried.

“THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU THINK ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU SAID THOSE THINGS?! HUH?! YOU ONLY REALISED WHEN I LEFT!” It felt good to finally scream and after seeing the guilty looks on their faces as well as their tears, she felt a bit more satisfied. They deserved to feel pain how she had. “You guys all had each other, I had no one after that. Only Yoojin was there to help me. You had each other, but you didn’t think about that once. Screw you, all of you.” At that moment, Yoojin came running in and paused after she saw everyone in tears. She glared at the boys before making her way to Seolhee, putting an arm around her protectively.

“I told you not to hurt her again,” she spat as she helped the crying girl up, “leave, now!” She pressed a cloth to Seolhee’s bleeding arm, trying to stop the blood flow.

“Yoojin, pass me my phone,” Seolhee suddenly said, taking Yoojin by surprise. She took her phone from Yoojin and quickly dialled a number, wincing as her hurt arm contacted Yoojin’s. “Hello? Yes, this is CEO Park speaking from Korea, how are you? I phoned to tell you, I’ll be coming to our base in the USA for a bit. We still have the Blackpink collaboration to think about, as well as Tiffany Young.” she eyed the boys as she said that and their hearts shattered; she was leaving again, because of them. “Yes, I will leave somebody else in charge of the Stray Kids collaboration, it’s not a problem. My flight should be after a few days, I’ll book one today. Ok, see you. Good. Thank you, take care.” She turned her phone off and looked at Yoojin. “We’re going to the USA, make sure to pack ok? We’ll be gone for a while.” She turned to look at the members, whose eyes were red and puffy as they tried to form words to stop her from leaving. “This collaboration will be given to one of my colleagues, we have no reason to talk anymore, I’ll be leaving after a few days. Take care and good luck.” She quickly left, not giving them a chance to say anything. Before she walked out the door, she turned around and said “This is our last meeting. And please do not try and revive our friendship, it died and left a long time ago.” Then the door closed and the boys were left, suffocated in their own wrong doings. They couldn’t believe they had messed up so badly. None of them had wanted to let go of Seolhee, they hadn’t meant a word of what they had said about her to Dahee, but they knew they would never be forgiven.

“I- I don’t want to lose her,” Jeongin wept as he cried into his hands.

“Im afraid we already have,” Seungmin said as they all stared at the door with broken hearts. Broken hearts that no one but that girl could cure, but she would never do that. She would make sure they suffered just as she had. The only difference was that they had each other to hold onto when she had only had herself. They had screwed up, and now they had to face the consequences.

A.N// Thank you so much for reading the story, please give me some feedback if you can! I am currently working on a Stray Kids Mafia series and it will be a Minho fanfiction with the other members as well as many other groups making small entrances. I hope you all support that story of mine too and I will release it soon, maybe after I release a few more short stories/drabbles like this one :)

#bangchan #leeknow #changbin #hyunjin #felix #han #seungmin #jeongin #straykidsfanfiction #straykids #straykidsstory

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puttingfingerstokeys · 4 years

Text

and we danced

I’ve had this one sitting around for a bazillion years. Sequel to Faraday Cage, though I think I started this one first. Oh well, that’s been happening a lot.

Faraday Cage

prevented timeline

Sunset in Beverly Hills was a time of peaceful winding down for some—very few, of course, but some—and for Johnny Cage in particular, it was a time to sit on his patio, crack a beer, and play with the new turntable Cassie had gotten him to replace the one that had been lost in the move. A few boxes of records stood about like milling party guests and he was going through them, deciding what to listen to first. There were albums of many genres, and not all of them were his. He held a Doors album that had belonged to his late ex-wife, Sonya Blade, and gripped his beer a little harder than was perhaps necessary.

The sun sank lower, casting red-orange hues over the expanse of his home and yard, staining everything a rust color while the sky ran through shades of pink, lavender and, to the east, blue, Stygian and star-dotted, though only for the moment. As night’s blanket fell, the lights of the city—the brazen neon refusing to relinquish its hold upon the evening—would drown out those points of light, irreverently casting them aside as if they were shards of glass, rather than precious diamonds. A lot of life’s like that, Johnny considered, choosing a record and placing it gently upon the turntable, lowering the needle with relish.

An almost muffled crack of thunder—how a lightning bolt could be muffled would forever remain a mystery to the aging actor—resounded across the yard just as night took hold and his hanging “fairy” lights came on, activated by the lack of ambient illumination. He looked up to see the protector of Earthrealm, Raiden, striding across the expanse of grass which marked his yard. He was glad his fences were high and his neighbors were, in all likelihood, out on the town.

“Whoa Raiden—somethin’ wrong?” He was immediately alarmed and set his beer aside to stand and face the deity. In his defense, Raiden walked everywhere with purpose, as if something urgent was happening someplace and it required his attention. Johnny chalked it up to being a god, though perhaps it was simply Raiden’s personality. Some people had a hard time differentiating between Raiden’s duty and personality; they so often coincided that even the god himself seemed helpless in the face of that gap—if indeed gap there was. But Johnny knew better. The gulf was spanned with firm ties, but there was a divide.

“No, Johnny Cage,” said the god of thunder with relief in his voice. “I am sorry to have alarmed you.”

“I wasn’t alarmed—just… y’know…” Johnny sat back down before realizing he should offer a chair. He stood once more and gestured to his.

“You were,” the god corrected, “because you rarely refer to me in that way unless you are alarmed.”

Johnny felt himself go red to the ears as Raiden took the offered seat and he retrieved another from the garden shed which was positioned off to one side of the patio. A push mower and a few lawn grooming implements were also placed therein, but for the time being, he was only interested in a chair. Grasping it with one hand, he lifted it and closed the doors behind himself, returning to the record player, the records, and the literal deity who had settled in his seat.

“Should’ve known,” Johnny amended, setting his own on the other side of the player so he could still manipulate it. “I mean you’re… not in armor, so I guess shit can’t be that bad.”

“An astute observation,” responded Raiden, regarding the machine, speakers, and vinyl disks. He touched none of these, knowing that even his presence could upset electronics, but wondering after their purpose. He was certain that the machine itself would be adversely affected by his lightning, even if the discs were not. Raiden was not ignorant of mortal machines or customs, just too busy to become intimately acquainted therewith. No one seemed to hold it against him.

Rather, they found it endearing. This, for some reason, did not upset him. It delighted the god of thunder to know people found him… approachable. Long ago, he had relinquished the cloak of aloofness, finding mortals and their lives to be far too fascinating and precious to loftily hold himself above them. The irony is in my tardiness; Fujin understood eons ago what it has taken me much longer to learn. I am a fool.

“So why are you here?” Johnny’s words fled his tongue before he could restrain them and he blushed once more as he reached for the beer he had discarded. “Sorry—not what I meant. What’s… uh… Up?”

“A desire to commune with a friend,” said Raiden simply but in his usual elaborate fashion that made Johnny wonder if he should also be speaking that way—it was like feeling underdressed at a gala or five-star restaurant, but with words. “I would have called,” Raiden added after a moment, “but…” His hands rose, palms skyward to indicate that he had no means by which to contact Johnny—e.g. no cellphone. Magic amulets, of course, were plentiful if one knew where to look, but there was no need to saddle Johnny Cage with such an implement when he could simply touch down in the man’s back yard and speak with him personally.

For Johnny’s part, the thought of Raiden texting sent a hysterical thrill through his body and he restrained the urge to laugh aloud. He made a mental note to say something to Cassie later, but for now, it was more important to focus on the fact that Raiden had come back after that weird afternoon a few weeks ago—or had it been months—when he had kissed him!

Johnny had been sure that would be the last he would see of the god of thunder, though he had hoped this would not be the case, and he had resigned himself to only hearing peripherally from the guy when Earthrealm was in peril. He had even gone through the “is he avoiding me” phase before the resignation had set in. It was almost thrilling to feel so young and stupid again. Next to him, I guess I am young and stupid.

“Well, I’m havin’ a beer and listening to old records—and I’m all outta beer. Lemme put this sucker on.” He did just that, gently laying a record on the turntable and placing the needle, standing with what he felt was a thunderous crack of his knees and then straightened. “You want one?”

“My body is a temple, Johnny Cage; I do not imbibe.”

“Could be an amusement park, Sparky,” came the reply, but as he had never forced his alcoholic preferences on Liu Kang or any of his other White Lotus or Wu-Shi friends, he did not press and headed inside to grab a second beer and maybe breathe a little. In the background of his retreat, Jim Morrison’s voice filtered through the air and filled his back yard.

Johnny’s fingers closed on the handle of his refrigerator door and he pulled it open, feeling nothing other than casual affection toward the strange being on his porch. As he reached toward the next beer, however, his mind began racing along, out of control. It felt as if casual affection was morphing. He needed the alcohol and the comfortable haze it promised.

His hand closed about the chilly bottle and he stood, regarding the singular illumination provided by his refrigerator and realized that he’d forgotten to turn any lights on. Sunset had come and gone and here he was, standing in his dark kitchen with the god of thunder relaxing on his patio and listening to the Doors. His heart began to pound and he fumbled with the bottle opener magnet. Casual affection was, indeed, quickly giving way to something which scared him.

When he finally managed to free his bottle of its troublesome top and return to the door, intent on gaining the patio without fumbling anything, Raiden had once more removed his hat and cap and was running his fingers through his hair. Johnny wasn’t sure the guy knew he was standing there, hand poised just above the handle of his slider, watching that silvery-white stuff flow and wave, catching the warm illumination of his yard lights. Once more, he was assailed by the desire to see it spread out upon a pillow beneath him.

Johnny shook his head to clear that thought, swallowed hard and tugged the door open. Raiden straightened and shifted, softly glowing eyes turning toward his host. In the back of his mind, the actor wondered if Raiden could read minds. He had never asked, but he certainly hoped this was not the case.

“I apologize for arriving unannounced,” Raiden said, inclining his head. His hands had dropped from his hair and were poised almost demurely in his lap. Johnny shrugged and remembered that he was supposed to walk out and join Raiden on the patio, rather than standing in the doorway, frozen by the man’s divine beauty.

Fortunately, the possessor of the divine beauty in question did not seem to notice and as Johnny uprooted himself, he turned, politely, and resumed his relaxed position on the seat. Johnny could not help noticing, with offhanded curiosity, that the seat didn’t sink much with the god’s weight as it did with his own. Weird.

“It’s fine,” Johnny assured him, raising a hand. “Really. It was just gunna be me and this record player.” He reached over and turned the volume dial down so they could converse without difficulty. Raiden’s voice, he had noticed, was firm, but gentle—except when he was pissed. The commanding tone doubled his voice, amplifying it to the point where it seemed to come from everywhere and rattled in Johnny’s ribcage and skull. He was glad this was not the voice he was hearing. “I’m glad you’re here, actually.”

Once more, Johnny’s words were getting ahead of his brain and, as usual, he could not retract what had been said. It wasn’t a lie, of course, or an exaggeration, but some things were best left unsaid. He lifted the beer to his lips defensively, but the statement was already out there, hovering in the air between them.

Raiden watched him with a Mona Lisa expression, almost half of a smile, certainly relaxed, and knowing, as ever. Johnny prayed he would not ask why the mortal was glad to see him. He did not have the energy for that explanation, short though it should have been. Just tell him you wanted to see him again because you’ve got a thing for him, simple as that. Liu was right. Better to get it out in one go and see what happens. Worst he can do is vaporize me.

Johnny decided that was an unkind thought and busied himself digging through his records; better to do that than prolonging the awkwardness of the utter lack of conversation. Fortunately, Johnny was the only one feeling awkward, as Raiden seemed content with the musical quietude and had settled back in the provided chair, inscrutable eyes focused on nothing in particular, and then falling on Johnny’s back as he crouched near a box, having himself a trip through memory lane. A warm wind began to pick up, coming off the ocean and bringing with it the smell of salt.

“That you, big guy?” Johnny, as usual, broke the silence. Raiden shook his head.

“No,” he responded. “I am the god of thunder, Johnny Cage, not wind.”

There was humor in his tone and a levity that Johnny had come to appreciate, even to crave. It was so rare, even now, when everything seemed to be at peace. Shifting from his crouched position to one of kneeling, Johnny clutched a record in one hand and reached for the turntable with the other. Raiden could not see what was on the cover, but even if he could, it would be insignificant. In all his time and travels, he had rarely taken the opportunity to sit and absorb the music of Earthrealm—or any other realm, for that matter.

“Raiden I—”

“Johnny Cage—”

Both men paused as they began simultaneously and then that strange, utterly human embarrassment settled over them like the blanket of night which had tucked itself in for the evening. Johnny turned to face Raiden, still half-crouched. The god of thunder was sitting forward, elbows on his knees, glowing eyes meeting Johnny’s without reservation. There was something in those eyes; right then they were not as inscrutable as they had been in the past. Or maybe I’m just getting better at reading him, Johnny thought, unsure if he was comfortable with this.

“Please,” ushered Raiden finally, extending a hand toward his mortal companion. Johnny shook his head.

“Age before beauty,” he insisted, attempting to introduce humor to a situation in which it may not have been appropriate, a very on-brand move for him. His heart was seizing and then hammering and then fluttering, as if there was some kind of small bird within, fighting desperately to escape. Johnny was not even clear within himself just what it was he wanted Raiden to say, or what he himself was attempting to express. He had been content simply allowing his mouth to run away with him, to see where it would take this situation. Now, faced with the reality of what a runaway tongue might cause, he was terrified. To busy his hands, he gingerly switched records as Raiden conceded.

“Very well, although I have heard on the breeze that some mortals find me to be… exquisite.” This, too, seemed to be an introduction of humor, so Johnny didn’t feel as silly as he might have done otherwise. Raiden sat back, looking almost impish, and certainly amused.

“Fujin promised he wouldn’t tell!” Johnny’s tone was jesting, but his heart continued its staccato tattoo. He had not, in fact, spoken with Fujin in quite some time—like Raiden, the man was busy. If he had, it certainly wouldn’t be to confess some kind of high school crush on a celestial being’s equally divine brother. Twins, he reminded himself, they’re twins—Thunder Cat told Cassie and me recently. Weird.

They were night and day, Fujin and Raiden, but Johnny assumed that twins among gods did not operate the same as mortal twins. Or perhaps they did and he simply had no firsthand knowledge. The only twins he had ever encountered were a pair of actresses in one of his films—notably not the Ninja Mime franchise. The music began, but it was secondary to the melody of Raiden’s voice as he spoke.

“He did not have to,” said Raiden, his tone warm, almost inviting—or maybe that invitation was a misinterpretation of Johnny’s fevered mind as he tried to lose himself in a swig of beer and an ‘80s power ballad whose title was lost in the cyan pools of Raiden’s eyes. “I know it is not an appropriate custom,” he continued, “to leave someone for long periods of time with no contact, but the nature of my—of what I am—dictates that I must. Forgive me for that, if you can.”

“Anything,” Johnny breathed. He realized that he had not yet been able to return to his seat, so enraptured was he in Raiden’s gaze. The soft, warm illumination of his backyard lighting fell upon Raiden’s statuesque face and, rather than making him look ghoulish as it might do to just about anyone else, he became an older Adonis, still painfully handsome—beautiful, even—but no longer pretty in that fleeing way of youth. His face lacked the innocence of a younger man and Johnny realized he had come to appreciate this, craved it too, along with much else.

“Your kindness does you great credit, Johnny Cage,” Raiden said.

It ain’t kindness. This is so far beyond that, Johnny thought, his mind losing itself in that strange warm haze of beer, good music, and good company. Without thinking, Johnny shifted once more, moving closer to the god of thunder and reaching out toward him, laying a hand upon his knee. There was a low buzz when he did that, not a sound, but a feeling under his palm and fingers, dancing up his arm. He squeezed, feeling his heart clambering in his throat and wondering if Raiden’s was doing the same—or if he even had a heart. What operated within the body of a being like him?

Was it all clockwork, or maybe ethereal light? He had seen Raiden bleed and the blood was red, but when it caught the light, it was clearly shot through with veins of gold, unless his eyes deceived him all those years ago. When it hit the ground, it clattered as if solid. He did not understand this, but all the times he witnessed this, Johnny had been more than a little preoccupied. Gods were not supposed to bleed; it was anathema to their nature. Yet Raiden and Fujin could bleed and, more than that, they chose to bleed for the peace and safety of Earthrealm.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Johnny advised, speaking low, loud enough to be heard, but not to drown out the music. He was responding to a look on Raiden’s face that suggested he was searching for words. His smile was more tentative now, leaning in the direction of the Mona Lisa, inscrutable and ethereal. He clearly wanted to relax, to allow whatever was happening within him simply to happen. The mortal could almost see the fight in his eyes. It broke Johnny’s heart and he wanted, all of a sudden and more than anything in every realm, to help Raiden move past whatever was slowing him down, whatever strange barrier stood between the god of thunder and his happiness, his own desires.

The deity had no trouble being decisive, even vicious, and dropping one whopper of a hammer when the need arose, but that need was never his own; always, it was someone else’s burden, though he would remind Johnny Cage that it was a responsibility he had chosen and for which he would fight to the death—maybe beyond. This scared the actor, sometimes. He didn’t know if he had ever, or COULD ever, dedicate himself to something with such vehemence. Had he expressed this aloud, Raiden might simply have pointed out his daughter, Cassandra Cage.

“I do,” rumbled the god of thunder. “My silence has done damage in the past.”

“Everyone’s has,” Johnny reminded him, moving so he was crouching before Raiden, both hands comfortably on the man’s knees. His connection with the ground seemed to be strong enough that the current was running harmlessly through him. Raiden’s corona of electricity was not arcing or dancing about, seeking to harm him. It simply flowed, rather like water, from the eternal battery that was the thunder god, into Johnny Cage, and down through the earth. Whence beyond that was anyone’s guess. “But this isn’t silence, is it?”

Raiden reflected that it was not, in fact, silent in that yard. There was music, and there was the two of them, and they were capable of conversation, of healthy discussion, and of much else. He moved with a deliberate purpose that froze Johnny momentarily, both hands finding either side of the actor’s head, a motion he had seen turn healthy muscle, bone, and gray matter into so much electrified pulp.

Rather than lightning from Raiden’s fingers, however, he felt the soft press of lips on his own, not urgent, but hardly tentative. This, he realized, was a version of Raiden who knew what he wanted, even if part of him was still unsure he should want it. Johnny would like to flatter himself—it really would be hubris at that point—and think that Raiden had spent all that time away thinking about him, about how to do this. If no one disabused him of that little flight of fancy, he would gladly go on pretending it to be the case.

To that end, Johnny returned the gesture, pressing into it and forcing Raiden back into the comfortable seat. The beer spilled somewhere in the grass and its memory was lost in the haze of heat the actor had found between the two unlikely beings—and between Raiden’s thighs.

Johnny’s hands were now gripping these, firm and powerful, through the strange material of his pants. He had in the past made a mental note to ask Raiden of what his clothing was made, if it could be manufactured for himself and the SF “kids” (when you were old, everyone was a kid). Right now, that thought was not even in the same galaxy as the rest of his mind. Right now, he only felt that heat; he was a being of pure sensation and would be more than happy to drown in it.

Slowly, gently, his hands slid upward. His thumbs soon found Raiden's hips through the fabric of what Johnny considered his "habit". His grip tightened briefly, testing the waters. The music hummed on, but Johnny heard nothing. His focus was solely on Raiden, whose grip had shifted to the front of his shirt, grasping the lapels of Johnny's button-down. He seemed content to keep the Hollywood superstar as close as he possibly could. Johnny's hands traced the curve of Raiden's waistline which, though offset by leather and cloth, was pleasantly molded, almost perfectly to Johnny’s grip, like the narrow portion of an hourglass.

He heard himself moaning quietly into the kiss while the epiphany of his attraction to the thunder god’s shape washed over him like an ocean wave. His heart's rhythm had regulated itself and was thudding along steadily, if a bit strongly. Blood was rushing to all parts of him and he felt himself break out in a sudden sweat. Maybe he's frying me and doesn't realize it; isn't this what radiation poisoning feels like? He had to remind himself that Raiden was not, in fact, radioactive.

“Dance with me,” Johnny heard himself say suddenly, breaking the kiss with plenty of surprise, but no reluctance at all, eager to share this next, utterly unforeseen desire. Raiden, too, seemed more than a little astonished, glowing eyes widening momentarily, before softening. In fact, his entire countenance softened, assuming the look of something more accessible than merely a benevolent deity which, Johnny reflected, he was. He’s seen some rough shit, thought the actor as he stood, hearing his knees crack once more as he did so, pulling Raiden with him. So have I. Now I want some peace and quiet.

Raiden stood willingly, unsure of what was next. It was a refreshing feeling. In all the eons of his life, he had rarely felt unsure of something and also been very comfortable with it. Lack of information had often led him to make poor decisions. This was not one of those situations, however. He was not really making any decisions, save to follow Johnny’s steps as the mortal pulled him close, wrapping one arm about his waist and taking his other hand.

Johnny was surprised, as he had been when noticing the lack of weight upon the chair, at how easy it was to heft the god of thunder, so to speak. He was not picking the man up, yet, but even the act of moving him from a seated to a standing position was utterly without strain. It felt natural to draw Raiden to himself, pressing their bodies tightly together, all potential awkwardness draining away in the notes of the song coming from the speakers attached to the turntable.

When he held out his hand to receive Raiden’s, the god of thunder offered it with no hesitation or complaint. When Johnny pulled him close, he did not protest. When they began to move to the ebb and flow of the music, it was very much as if they were made for this. When the mortal manipulated the deity’s movements and body into a deep dip, he felt Raiden bend and ride along with the motion.

When he kissed the god of thunder, both men held tightly to the lifeline the other had become.

#mortal kombat #raiden #johnny cage #faraday cage

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delicatelyherdreams · 5 years

Text

Pragma(tic) 15: It’s Way Worse Than She Thought

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 6673

Warnings: Language, blood, assault.

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 14: Her World is Shaken, Not Stirred

The stone was cleaved open down the middle like it’d been cut by an ax. The jagged edges came to a peak about a hundred feet above the original top of the cave and shot downwards at steep declining angles so the opening was triangular instead of round.

You stood at the base of the cave and stared at the tear in the stone, your heart sinking lower and lower in your chest as the crushing reality of the situation sank in.. “No…” you whispered, your voice cracking. “No, this isn’t possible! I was just here! I just got done with the spells!” Your chest rose and fell in rapid succession, your hands raked through your hair, and your legs quivered. “There’s no way! I was here less than two hours ago! It’s not—“

“My queen,” Pierce said cutting off your rambling, his voice filled with concern. “You need to calm down. Please sit.” He took your hand and led you over to one of the boulders that had fallen from the opening. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

You could only nod as you stared up at the crack, it’s length exceeding your line of sight as it soared up into the darkness of the Underworld’s ceiling.

Something had made the wall split. Something had broken Tartarus, making it stand agape. Something had breached the most dangerous part of your realm.

Carol slunk towards the cave, coming to a stop right at the entrance. Slowly she reached forward and rested her hand against the stone. Her hand had barely touched the surface when she yanked it away. The color drained from her face as she stared at it aghast. “It’s coated with him,” she spat, glaring at the stone with venom in her eyes. “And not just him… There’s something indiscernible here. He’s not working alone.”

Natasha took a step forward. “You mean…?”

No! you wanted to cry out. You wanted to tell her that it couldn’t be possible. No one was allowed near the cave. No one had been put under his influence; you’d made sure of that. And yet there you were, staring at the ugly face of your reality. Kronos had done significant damage to the outermost layer of his cage—the entrance of Tartarus—and, if Carol was right, he hadn’t done it alone.

“I don’t know what I mean,” Carol admitted.

You did. There was a traitor in your midst.

Pierce reappeared at your side moments later, holding the promised glass of water. He helped your trembling hand grasp it and bring it up to your lips.

You drank the whole thing. On a normal day, it would’ve been refreshing, but now it did nothing but leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Satisfied that you’d drunk the whole thing, Pierce took the glass and stepped back. “My queen,” he said addressing you, “what are my orders?”

You stared up at him, thankful that he was taking the initiative even if you were shellshocked. “I… I need you to…” Gods, you couldn’t even form a sentence you were so rattled. You swallowed thickly, rolling your shoulders back. “I need you to secure the Underworld. Close the gates. This is a total lockdown situation. No one enters or leaves without my permission.”

He said nothing but bowed low. His wings unfolded from his back and he was up in the air in a blink of an eye, ready to carry out your orders.

Bucky used this time to find a seat on the boulder right beside you. He grabbed your hand and pulled it over to rest in his lap to pet it as an attempt to calm your shaking.

You squeezed his hands tightly, your knuckles growing white with the effort.

Carol spun on her heel to look at you, her eyes demanding. “(y/n), I need you to tell me everything that’s happened today. Don’t leave out a single detail.”

You obeyed, slightly relieved that your youngest sister was Queen of the gods and not you. She was commanding and you were more than happy to do as directed in situations like this.

You told her how you’d woken and immediately went to charm the cage and Kronos was silent for once. And although the silence unnerved you at the time, it never could’ve foreshadowed this. From the cave, you went straight home for brunch and Bucky came by after. “We were just sitting together when the quake happened. I… I never saw it coming. I should’ve…” You hung your head. “It was my job to keep the cage secure and I…” You didn’t want to say that you’d failed, but you had no other word for what had led you to this moment.

Natasha rushed over and put her hand on your shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong, (y/n). The cave is split, but if the cage was really and truly broken, then Kronos would be out here unleashing all sorts of hell. There’s still hope.” She turned her gaze back to the opening and pressed her lips together. “Carol… We have to…”

“I know,” she said, her shoulders rolling back and her chin tiling up. “We have to call the council.” Carol looked at you, her eyes hard as steel. “You and Bucky are coming with. You were the ones here when it happened, you need to testify.”

Your heart sank.

The “council,” as it was known, was a gathering of the twelve Olympians and yourself, only called when something earth-shattering or incredibly urgent arose (which, if you were being honest with yourself, defined this event). Your sisters and you sat at the head of the table with Carol front and center, you to her right, and Natasha to her left. From there, you were joined by Maria, Tony and his wife Pepper, Clint, the twin gods Wanda and Pietro, Thor and his brother Loki, Valkyrie, and, of course, Winnifred.

It was the last member of that list that made you nervous. Winnifred was nowhere near as powerful as you. You were the first goddess, you’d been around for centuries longer than she and you had an entire army of the undead at your will. She was simply a second-generation goddess, given domain over the harvest, but she was the mother of the man you were dating and she hated you. While she had no control over you or your actions, she did have some influence over Bucky. She was his mother, after all, and she hated you with every fiber of her being. She couldn’t control her son’s actions, but you didn’t want to irrevocably damage his relationship with her.

You were close to your mother; you didn’t want to be the reason why Bucky wasn’t close with his.

If she was to be there—which she undoubtedly was—she’d be seeing you and Bucky together for the first time. You could only imagine how well that would go over with her.

As if sensing your thoughts, Bucky squeezed your hand and glanced at you. His eyes mirrored the worry you felt. You couldn’t read minds, but you had a feeling his thoughts matched yours; he was scared she’d flip, and you didn’t need to deal with her on top of the current situation. You’d been hoping to break the news to her gently, give her time to just accept it.

Welp, looks like it would be tearing off a bandaid with this one.

You took what felt like the millionth deep breath and sat up. “Alright. Just… Give me one second.” You had to leave a message for Peggy and Pierce. In your quick absence, as much as you loathed to do it, you would be sending Peggy to the cave to do the most damage control she physically could and you would be having Pierce guard the borders. No one would escape past him. You held out your hands and closed your eyes. Channeling your wishes and your messages, power coursed through your arms until they came to a rest at your palm and small balls of red fire formed. They hovered above your skin as they transcribed the message and finally floated off into the distance, each going off to find their respective recipient. With them on their way, you looked back to your sisters and nodded. “Okay, we’re ready.”

———

Olympus wasn’t as it normally was. The streets weren’t bustling with gods and spirits. The atmosphere was haunted and cold. The shops were empty and doors and windows were locked up tight. Things littered the ground and things were knocked over; various bits of evidence that something had shaken the earth up there and caused people to panic.

You knew the earthquake was bad, but you hadn’t realized just how much it had affected the rest of the realms.

Carol had already summoned the council; you could see the ten gods bustling outside the palace at the top of the mountain.

With every step you took towards it, you felt like you were only sealing your doom. You were scared to be seen with Bucky. You were scared that you would taint his reputation with the Olympians. You were scared that they’d renounce him. It was a ridiculous thing to fret about, considering the current situation and all, but it was also one of the only two things on your mind (aside from your father and Tartarus, of course). Your feet felt like steel weights had been glued to the bottom, holding you down and only growing heavier with every step. You squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, how you wished this was only a sick dream—that you could just open your eyes and you’d be in Bucky’s arms, happy, safe, and secure. But it wasn’t. This was reality, and you had to stare it in its ugly face.

Bucky slowed with you, matching your pace step for step. Your hands were still intertwined and he used that to pull you into his side as he finally stopped. He took a step to the side so he was standing right in front of you and brought his free hand up to your cheek. His rough, calloused skin cradled your face and he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. “Hey,” he whispered in a voice too tender for words. “It’s going to be okay.” Whether he was talking about your father or his mother, you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter to his next words. “We’re going to do this together. You and me against it all; I’ll be with you the whole time.”

You pushed up on your toes to press your forehead to his and let out a trembling breath. You didn’t know how it was going to be okay. Nothing seemed to be okay. But his words did comfort you, and you suddenly felt like you could face the world. You were already strong alone, but now you had him and he helped you be stronger. With him with you, the possibilities were limitless. “Okay,” you finally whispered after a bit. “Then let’s go.” You squeezed his hand softly and pulled back, letting both of you fall back in line as you climbed the steep mountain to the palace.

Most of the other gods had already filed in, filling the main room and taking their seats on their thrones at the table. Each god had one to match their personality and their domain so that there would be no debate on which throne belonged to a god; even you had a throne, although you weren’t technically a part of the Olympians.

Your sleek black throne sat to the right of your sister’s. Where Maria, your beloved sister-in-law, usually sat, a new throne had been erected. It was temporary, of course, but there was no doubt that it was Bucky’s. The flowers on the armrests made that painfully clear.

The gods continued to talk amongst themselves as you and Bucky entered last, your hands still tightly interwoven as if they were glued together. None paid you any attention; none except Winnifred.

It was as if she sensed Bucky’s entrance. She was his mother after all; she probably had some sort of mother-sense that alerted her to her child’s presence. As soon as he took a single step into the throne room, her head snapped to the side to look at him. In a matter of mere seconds her face flashed through about 4 different expressions: shock, confusion, realization, and finally rage as her eyes landed on your interlocked hands. Her face turned beet red and steam would’ve been shooting from her ears if this were a cartoon.

You glanced sideways at Bucky, receiving only a nod from him, before tugging him by the hand over to your thrones. This was not your first council meeting; you knew the drill. You marched right past Winnifred, paying her no mind. There was something much more pressing than her petty anger and displeasure at hand and it had to take precedence. She could wait. You finally reached your thrones and sat down in yours.

Bucky took his and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

You didn’t know if it was because his mother was in the room or if it was because he wasn’t used to being in the council, but you reached over and placed your hand on top of his regardless. Your dead color contrasted with his perfectly, and your cold fingers trailed over his skin. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “You don’t have to talk, you’re just here as another witness. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he whispered back, turning his hand over so his palm was up. He curled his fingers into you, gripping your hand softly.

It was then that Carol mounted the head of the table. Standing in front of her golden throne, she cleared her throat. “Everyone, please take your seats.” She stared out over the twelve gods assembled beneath her and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for having to call you all here so suddenly, but there has been a disturbance. I assume you all felt the earthquake this morning?”

“Yeah,” said Tony, who sat just down the line from you. “Pep and I were having lunch. What the hell happened? It had to have been bad if it shook Olympus.”

The others gathered murmured in agreement, their voices hushed.

“It was,” Carol affirmed. “Tartarus has been breached.”

As you’d expected, that simple sentence caused an uproar. At once the gods were tense and alert. Some drew their weapons.

Clint was the first to speak. Having dealt with you and the Underworld before, he knew what that meant. His face was pale and his posture rigid. “But that means your father—”

“Has grown stronger,” you affirmed. “This morning the cave’s entrance was been cleaned open. We’re not entirely sure how much damage has been dealt, but we’re working on repairing it already.”

“If you’re repairing it, then why are we here?” asked Pietro, his thick accent coming through. He was a younger god, just a bit older than Bucky but not by much. He was visibly puzzled, not understanding the severity of the situation, but you weren’t surprised; he hadn’t even been dreamt of when the first Titanomachy took place.

“The repairs are nothing but a bandaid,” you said, your voice taking on a grave atmosphere. “Kronos has somehow severely damaged the cage once, what’s to say he won’t do it again. He’s hellbent on destroying us; he tells me so every single time. He’s powerful and dangerous. Even in the cage, he has managed to corrupt deities.” Peggy’s haunted eyes from all those centuries ago flashed through your mind and you shuddered. “He is a legit threat and we cannot allow him to break out.”

“But if he breaks out, then we can just defeat him again, right?” asked Thor. The god of war was seated towards the far end of the table and staring at you, his eyes hopeful. The man was smart and kind, but he thought that every problem could be solved with fists and fighting. He was grinning. “You fought him millennia ago and won! It should be a piece of cake.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Thor,” you hissed. “Kronos has been stewing for all those millennia, biding his time to escape and end us. If he’s breaking out now, it’s because he’s powerful enough to do so, or had help from someone who could do it with him. We would hardly stand a chance.”

“But the last war we fought—”

“The last war we fought nearly destroyed the world and took ten years!” you snapped, your vision flickering with red. Why was it so hard for them to understand? You rose to your feet glowering at the gods. “We don’t have ten goddamn years this time! The mortals have come so far, and a war of that magnitude would send them back to the stone ages. We need to put an end to this now.”

“Well, we wouldn’t need to put an end to this if you had done your fucking job! Isn’t it your responsibility to keep his cage secure?” Winnifred shouted from her spot at the table, cutting you and everyone else off with a withering glare. It was the first she’d spoken since the calling of the council and it surprised everyone into silence. “You’re the Queen of the Underworld, keeping his prison secure is your job! Or have you been distracted as of late?” Her voice dripped with malice, the hatred going unmasked in her eyes. She was glaring at you and her son having put two and two together. She wasn’t an idiot after all, after seeing you two together, you figured it wouldn’t have been hard to deduce that there was something going on between you, that to your side was the place he’d been escaping so frequently.

Bucky looked down the table at her, his eyebrows knitted together. “Mother, please.”

“No, Bucky,” you said standing up straighter and glaring down at his mother. “It is true that I have been a bit preoccupied. Not that anyone of you would care, but for once I’ve actually decided to do something for myself and find happiness in a relationship. I have found someone among you who hasn’t treated me like a disease and who has become very dear to my heart, and I have spent some time with him as a partner and not just some unfeeling monster. And, as many of you do, I have balanced that with my responsibilities. I have never once missed a week in which I would go down to face my demons and strengthen his cage and I have even put my life on hold to increase the frequency. I have been punctual and consistent, never asking for help. And now that something that is beyond my control has gone wrong, you want to point fingers and put the blame all on me.” You spoke more to Winnifred when you said that last bit, but it was true nonetheless.

Red coated your vision ever so slightly as you glared down at the gods. “I have never once faltered in my duties, keeping you safe in silence. Now, I fear that something is happening, and I don’t know what it is, but I know that if we stand divided, then this something will end us!”

“(y/n),” murmured Carol, reaching up to place her hand on your forearm. “Be still; it’s okay.”

You calmed a bit at your sister’s touch, but not by much. Though the red dimmed in your eyes, the world continued to stay tinted with the color. You continued to stare at Winnifred as you reluctantly sat in your throne. You could still feel your blood boiling, but it was cooled ever so slightly by the hand that reached over and settled atop yours.

Bucky gave your hand a gentle squeeze, holding it atop your armrest. He kept his eyes at the center of the table, but you know he was just trying to help. You appreciated him very much.

You let out a quiet breath, exhaling through your nose, and squeezed him back. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Carol took over from there, explaining your theory that Kronos was not working alone. After all, the cave was split open and you had been monitoring Kronos’ power. He wasn’t nearly strong enough to actually do that. So that meant that someone was working for him. Of course, this also caused a nervous uproar, but Carol was quick to calm them. Instead of letting them panic, she gave them orders. First to help repair the cave the best they were able or to send their underlings down to help and second to keep an eye out for suspicious activity and prepare themselves for war.

They were simple tasks but they left the gods with something to do and with a direction to go in which made them happy.

The gods dispersed, opting to return to their respective realms to carry out their orders.

You were left alone by your throne with Bucky. It was just the two of you, the throne room was silent. You sucked in a deep breath and looked at the man beside you. “I… I think that went well. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, though you didn’t need me there.” He smiled softly. “Will we go back to the Underworld?”

“Yes. I left Peggy and Alexander down there alone; they’ll probably be needing me back.” You shrugged. “I’ve got to help them with damage control.” Your head ached at just the thought of it. “I’ll probably exhaust my magic stores for the week, but if it keeps him trapped it’ll be worth it.” You rolled your neck with a grimace. “Are you coming with me or are you going back to your meadow?”

“I’m coming with you. My magic may not be the strongest, but I’ll do all in my power to help you out.” His eyes were kind as they looked at you. “As I said, you won’t be alone.”

“Thank you, Bucky.”

He nodded and smiled, but that smile was short-lived. His eyes were drawn to a point beyond your shoulder and locked on something behind you. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout a warning but you were quicker.

You whirled around on your heel, ready to see what was coming, but you weren’t quite fast enough.

Winnifred had appeared behind you, her hand raised and poised to strike. As soon as you were facing her, her open hand came rushing through the air, aimed directly at your face.

As the sound of a crack shattered the silence, Bucky cried out in shock. “Mother!” he shrieked as he rushed to your side, reaching up to cup your reddening cheek.

You shoved his hand away, your nerves alight with pain and your head bowed for only a moment from the impact. Fire built in the core of your chest, red as rage, and your eyes filled with a color to match it. She’d hit you; you, the original goddess and her superior in every way. You lifted your head, slow and menacing, and your lips pulled back into a snarl as you glowered at her. “How. Dare. You,” you hissed in a voice as cold as the Underworld itself.

“How dare I? How dare you!” She was angry, and that anger seemed to be a shield that kept her from realizing just how much she’d pissed you off or what you could do about it.

You didn’t know if she realized that you could smite her right then and there if you wanted; your weapon, after all, was one of the three that could kill other gods.

However, she carried on, not letting a second pass before she spoke again. “You are a slut, a filthy whore! The river naiad wasn’t enough for you? You needed a god to satisfy you?” Her lips curled back. “And who do you choose to prey on but my innocent son? You’ve corrupted him and lied to him and now you’ve kept him under a spell to keep him close to you!” Her claims were irrational, but she wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise to put her straight. “Well, I won’t have it! You endanger my son by keeping him around you! Death does nothing but bite at your heels and I refuse to let him be one of your casualties! You’re going to get him killed if you keep him with you! He’s so blinded by you that he doesn’t see that you’re leading him to his doom! You can’t take him like this. He’s a boy, he doesn’t know any better. You will only get him killed if you allow him to follow you. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

“Mother!” Bucky begged again. “Stop it!”

“I will not!” she thundered.

You knew she wasn’t lying. She’d already screamed enough to cause a scene, and there was no doubt that every creature within ten yards had heard her. Some of the lesser Olympians were cowering away, doing their best to stay out of it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your sisters beginning to rush to your aide. You simply held up a hand to stop them.

They obeyed. While they too were queens, they knew better than to disobey you at times like this. If you said you could handle it, you would. Your ability to command even the queen of the gods herself was enough to demonstrate the power you held in your own right.

You continued to glower down at Winnifred, rolling your shoulders back. “Winnifred,” you boomed, your voice low and threatening. “I will not tolerate these accusations in the house of my sister. I will not tolerate the lies you speak of me and my intentions. And I will not tolerate you laying your hands upon me.” You stood up straighter and the room darkened. Your hands opened at your sides, calling forth the darkness that lurked in the corners of the room. With power coursing through your veins, you were downright terrifying. The air itself quivered at your presence, the taint of death and raw power causing even it to bend to your will. Your hand rose up, your bident materializing out of the darkness to fill your grip, and your eyes glowed brighter, the red casting a ghastly glow over the woman before you. “You think that you are equal to me; you are sorely mistaken. I am (y/n), Queen of the Underworld, the first god. You are nothing to me but an insignificant pest. I could have you put to death for even the slightest attack against me; you are at my mercy always.” Every god was, but none of them had ever pissed you off enough to warrant extortion of your power; until her.

Winnifred only then seemed to comprehend the power you held over her. Never once had you exerted it, but now she had assaulted you and given you reason to threaten her. You could see the moment it dawned on her that your threats had sustenance in her face; her eyes grew wide, her skin as devoid of life as yours, and her jaw slack with something you recognized all too well: terror. she was terrified.

And rightfully so. You were the last goddess to mess with.

You could’ve killed her right then and there to make a point, to stick to your ground, but something tugged at your heart. One look at Bucky made you realize exactly what it was.

He was looking at you with fear in his eyes too and you knew exactly why: he was scared that you might kill his mother in front of him.

And it was in that second that you knew you never would kill her.

Though the woman had slighted you, offended you, and struck you—all things that would normally get one killed—she was still the mother of the man you loved and you could never put him through that pain. You knew the pain of losing a parent all too well, and it was something you would never inflict upon a loved one, least of all Bucky.

And so, still staring at the woman before you who seemed to think that these next few moments were her last ones alive, you put down your weapon. The air at once grew lighter and brighter as you let your rage disperse. “You are lucky I care about your son too much to do harm to you,” you spat as you let your eyes die down too, returning them to their normal shade. They flickered to Bucky and you spared him as soft a smile as you could manage. “If it were not for him, you would be suffering the consequences of your actions, but I am feeling merciful today.” Your eyes hardened once more as you looked down at her. “Now, do not test my self-restraint anymore. Leave.”

Given the word, she vanished, teleporting away, leaving nothing but wisps of wheat behind.

When she was gone, Bucky rushed over to your side and wrapped his arms around you. He burrowed his nose into the crook of your neck and took a shuddering breath. “Thank you,” he whispered softly, his voice trembling.

You hugged him back, but your mind wasn’t on him. Even though she was gone, Winnifred’s words still lingered in your thoughts.

He’s so blinded by you that he doesn’t see that you’re leading him to his doom!

That part… That part sounded oh so true. He was naive, blinded by his love.

Thinking hard on it, you couldn’t remember a single time he’d expressed independence around you. Everything up to this point had been for the both of you. He promised you he’d always be there, ready to support you unconditionally and stay by your side.

He’s a boy, he doesn’t know any better.

You’d told him the same thing months ago, telling him that he couldn’t possibly know that he loved you. But he’d been so sure of it, so sure of his love that he waved you off. And you let him. You let him endanger himself by staying with you. You let him put himself in harm’s way.

You will only get him killed if you allow him to follow you.

He would get hurt with you, you were sure of it. The world was not kind to you. The world was not kind to anyone. He would be hurt or worse around you.

Do you really want his blood on your hands?

“(y/n)?”

Your head snapped up and you came face to face with his concerned eyes. At once you saw something you never wished to see again.

You saw Bucky, bruised and bloody. Golden ichor dripped from a gaping head wound. It coated his face and matted his hair. Thin lines of the gold ran from his mouth and ears in rivers, glowing sickly in a dim light. His eyes… His eyes were the most haunting part of all. Where they normally shone with life, they were dim, vacant, dead.

This, you realized, was the future for him if he stayed with you, stayed by your side. Winnifred was right. You would only get him killed, especially with the war you knew was coming. If he stayed with you, he’d die. But… If you sent him away… He might stand a chance.

In that one second, your heart sank. You knew what you had to do. It scared you, hurt you, and made you want to throw up, but—gods—it had to be done. You couldn’t risk his safety. You couldn’t risk his life. You loved him too much to let him die.

“(y/n)?” Bucky called again. “Are you okay? You look… Paler than usual.”

Your voice wouldn’t work. It was stuck in your throat like a lead balloon. It didn't want to say what you had to. It didn’t want to say the words and make them real.

“(y/n),” he tried once more, “talk to me.”

You finally brought your head up and stared at him, your eyes full with pain, and you said, “She was right.” The words were hollow coming from your mouth

“What?” He was visibly confused and you couldn’t blame him. You’d be confused too.”Who was right?”

You brought your eyes up to meet his, the effort alone becoming strenuous. “Your… Your mother was right. We… Bucky we’re not good for each other. I’m not good for you. You’re only going to get hurt. I can’t do that to you.”

His brows furrowed. “What? No. (y/n), my mother knows nothing about us or about you. She doesn’t know that you’re the best thing to happen to me.”

“But what if I’m not, Buck? What if she’s right? I’m the goddess of the dead; death follows wherever I go. It’s only a matter of time before it catches up with you too.” You didn’t know how you couldn’t see it before. It was so obvious! Especially with recent events.

If you were right, and you normally were, a war was coming—another Titanomachy to be exact. Gods against titans once more. Kronos was growing stronger; the battle was almost inevitable. You weren’t stupid enough to be blind to that.

But, with every war came casualties. You couldn’t allow yourself to be distracted by trying to protect Bucky. You knew he’d chase you to the ends of the earth to be with you, even if the ends of the earth was the battlefield itself. You couldn’t let that happen. You had to send him away before it was too late. You knew he would follow you otherwise. You couldn’t let him. You couldn’t let him get hurt because of you.

“It won’t,” he said to reassure you, but he didn’t know that it was futile. Your mind had been made.

Your voice cracked as you said, “It will. It’s just a matter of when.” You knew what you had to do, you just wished it wasn’t so. How was it that not even twenty-four hours ago you were wrapped in each others’ arms and now you were having to send him away?

He seemed to have a vague understanding of what you were saying and he didn’t like it one bit. His stare hardened and his eyes grew desperate. “(y/n), please don’t say that. We can work this out.”

“No, we can’t.” You were taking slow steps away from him, trying to garner as much distance as you could. It hurt to be near him. Every muscle in your body ached and moaned with pain. “It can’t be worked out. Go, Bucky. Go away. Get as far away from me as you possibly can. I’m not good for you.” You were biting back tears as your heart sped up in your chest. It thundered against your ribs with the words.

But Bucky wasn’t going to give up that easily. “(y/n), whatever this is, we’re going to do it together.” He reached forward and took your hand in his. “I promised you I wasn’t going anywhere and I meant it. I’m with you until—”

You wrenched your hand from his, cutting him off. “No, Bucky!” you snapped. “I said, ‘no!’ Go away. We can’t be together. I don’t want you with me anymore.”

He looked like you just smacked hIm in the face, which, you supposed, you did in a way. “Wh-What? But you just said—”

“I know what I said,” you moaned. You turned your head from him, unable to look him in the eye.. “I cannot have you near me. It will only get you killed. I don’t want you, Bucky! I don’t know why I ever thought I could have you!”

“(y/n), please,” he begged, his blue eyes welling with tears. “My mother knows nothing. We can get through this together.”

“Bucky, please. Just go away, leave me alone. I’m not good for you!”

“But you love me.” He glared at you, his posture and power matching your own. “And you want me.”

Your mouth went dry before you spat, “No I don’t.” The words surprised you as they left your mouth. ‘No I don’t’ what? Love you? Want you? Both were blatant lies, but you couldn’t let him know that. You had to keep him safe. You bit your lip, using the pain to keep the angry tears blocked behind your eyes.

He stopped, his gaze hardening. You knew then that he thought you meant the former: I don’t love you. He stared you down. “Then tell me, (y/n). Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t love me, that it’s over, and I will believe you.” You could see that he didn’t think you would, he believed he had you trapped between a rock and a hard place and that you would break and say that you didn’t mean it.

But he never could have predicted how desperate you were to get him away from you, how desperate you were to protect him even if it destroyed both your hearts in the process nor how far you were willing to go to keep him safe.

Heat and pressure built up in your core, rising up through your ribs to your stomach and your heart, trapping them with their iron fists. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you shoved it, along with the tears that were threatening to spill, back down. Your voice was raw, pained, feverish, when you forced out, “I… I don’t love you.” Saying the words, your whole world came crashing down. Saying them, you saw the light—that light that you loved so much—die in Bucky’s eyes.

You could feel your heart shatter as his face crumbled with sadness, anger, and devastation before finally falling away to nothing. His expression was stone, he refused to show you weakness, especially after you so ruthlessly took the heart he’d given you and smashed it. His lips formed a hard line and he nodded. And then he was gone, leaving nothing but the faint scent of flowers in his wake and taking your heart away with him.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as the dams you had so hastily built came crashing down. Your heart ached, the heat and pressure becoming too much for it. Your hands clawed your chest, your legs buckled underneath you, and you fell to your knees.

Natasha was the first to your side, her hand coming to rest on your back as she cried out your name.

But you couldn’t hear her. All you could hear was a ringing in your ears, accompanied by the sobs of your heart. You had never known so much pain before. Your body was simultaneously on fire and being stabbed with thousands of knives. Your muscles cried out in pain and your bones shrieked with misery. And suddenly your silent sobs were given a voice. The scream that tore itself from your throat was more than a scream of heartbreak, it was one of utter agony. Your body convulsed on the ground and you doubled over, coughing violently, expelling fat drops of golden ichor from your lungs.

And it was only then, staring at the gold that littered the ground, that you even thought to consider that the pain you were feeling was not from heartbreak alone. But you didn’t have time to ponder on it.

Your vision turned black at the edges and darkness crept in as you continued to cough up ichor. Up and up it came until you had no strength to stay upright. The world lurched sideways, your head pounded, and all you could hear were your sisters’ desperate cries for help as you fell into nothing.

Next 16: He Feels His Heart Break

#Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #hades and persephone #hades & persephone #hades & persephone au #persephone!bucky x hades!reader #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #angst #shit goes down

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dramioneasks · 5 years

Note

Can you pretty please recommend some of your personal favorite dark!fics (like anything with either non/dub possessive!Draco ect?)

Here are some of mine (Warning: Some of these stories contain graphic depictions of rape):

Her Shoes by margaritama - NC-17, 19 Chapters - Draco Malfoy has demanded Hermione Granger head up an important new Wizard and Muggle venture he’s funding. They’ll be working at his home. Why would he do this? It’s clear he can’t stand her. Isn’t it?

Out of the Silent Planet by ianthe_waiting - NC-17, 39 chapters - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape’s final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve’ something of importance.

A Slow Cruel Descent by SenLinYu - M, 2 Chapters - The war grinds on and Hermione Granger, the lead intelligence for the Order of the Pheonix, is captured. Unable to crack her through interrogation without risking her mind, Voldemort conceives a cruel method of breaking her that involves a reluctant Draco Malfoy.

The Unbreakable Bond by MrBenzedrine - M, one-shot - One Shot. STRONG THEMES. Very Point? What Point? Hermione forms an unbreakable bond with Draco- Smut to follow! ANGST 3Plus,Abuse,Anal,Angst,BDSM,Bond,COMPLETE,Contro,D/s,Dom,F/F,Fingering,H/C,HJ,Humil,M/s,Oneshot,Oral,Other VERY DARK.

Crumple by MissiAmphetamine - M, 11 chapters - As the war rages on two years post-‘final battle’, Hermione is captured by the other side and Malfoy is the only hope she has of surviving. [“Granger?” His voice is urgent, but she just sits there and breathes for a moment, feeling violated and still radiating pain, her eyes staring blindly at the cell wall opposite her, her brain frozen in what she thinks dully might be shock.]

Pieces by Kyra4 - M, 5 Chapters - Can the same person who broke you into pieces, be the person to put you back together again?

Voices by Kyonomiko - M, 3 Chapters - Hermione has long accepted she might not make it through the war alive, but after years on the battlefield, she never expected to be at the mercy of Draco Malfoy. Not untouched by his own experiences, his manic behavior leaves her living in constant fear of the unknown, suffering both affections and afflictions at his hands.

Stone Dragons by gravidy - R, 3 Chapters - Sometimes there are no right decisions. There are only actions and consequences. Hermione’s only choice now is who to betray.

And So No One Else Can Have You by flipflop_diva - E, one-shot - Hermione may be Draco’s slave, but she is not quite as controllable as Draco would like. And that is something that Draco needs to put a stop to. An AU world set after Deathly Hallows. Based on the prompt Hermione is a war slave. Not only that, she is Draco’s war slave. Draco is a cruel master, but he is also in love with her. She grows to love him back.

The Beggar-Thief by gravidy - NC-17, 8 Chapters - Hermione Granger doesn’t believe in things that have never been seen. But then, she doesn’t believe in a lot of things anymore. Hermione Granger has enough problems without worrying about Pureblood kidnappings and techno-geeks. The last thing she needs is Draco Malfoy breathing down her neck.

The Lions of December by Gravidy - NC-17, 2 Chapters - She calls me Goliath and I wear the David mask. I’d like to believe we could reconcile the past. Resurrect those bridges with an ancient glance. But my old stone face can’t seem to break her down. She remembers bridges and burns them to the ground.–Excerpts from 7Mary3 “Cumbersome”

Uncoffined by lady_of_clunn - E, 13 Chapters - When all is lost, we are willing to do whatever it takes to survive. 2nd place in the category ‘Best WIP’ in the 2009 dramione_awards on LJ.

Cold Side of the Moon by RZZMG - M, 10 Chapters - Released from Azkaban & tossed into the Forbidden Forest, Hermione Granger must escape the predators & survive for 8 days to earn her freedom. She doesn’t expect to make it knowing Werewolf!Draco Malfoy is somewhere in the forest, too, just waiting for the next victim of The Games to arrive. Dramione. 2013 HP-Darkarts Fest entry. Nom’d HPFanficFanPollAwards-Best Dark Fic. COMPLETE!

The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man by ianthewaiting - M, 28 Chapters - Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain ‘hero’ is responsible. DM/HG, written originally in 2007-2008, and finally making its debut here! AU, DH-EWE, non-canon elements, time travel, character death, etc.

Utterly Despicable by camnz - M, 24 Chapters - The death of both Voldemort and Harry Potter let the pureblood elite build the world they wanted. One that leaves Hermione in a vulnerable state, which Draco Malfoy is prepared to take full advantage of.

Manacled by SenLinYu - M, 77 Chapters - Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret locked away in her mind. She is sent as an enslaved surrogate to the High Reeve, to be bred and monitored until it can be accessed. COMPLETE

The Gift by RZZMG - M, one-shot - After imbibing too much on Christmas Eve, Draco Malfoy decides to give himself a gift: Hermione Granger, his war prize slave. Can her gift of love tame the darkness in his heart? One-shot. Dramione/dark Draco x Hermione. A/U,Post-Hogwarts,EWE. COMPLETE!

Every Way You Look At This by tamlane - R, one-shot - Sometimes it’s difficult to tell who is indebted to whom. Which really has little to do with the means of collection, when you’re a Malfoy.

Save You, Save Me by flipflop_diva - R, one-shot - For five years, Draco Malfoy has kept Hermione Granger hidden away from the Dark Lord’s wrath. In exchange for her life, she’ll do what he says. But Hermione is about to find out that not everything is how it seems.

Worth The Risk by scarletladyy - M, one-shot - The world is a dangerous place for Hermione and other Muggleborns, and when she meets the Death Eater’s most infamous torturer in a dark alleyway, she thinks her life is over, until it turns out that this Death Eater may have a conscience after all.

His One Unforgivable Sin by DramioneInLove - M, 8 Chapters - In a world where Muggle-borns are the “lower class”, Hermione Granger works for Madam Malkin’s as an apprentice. When pure-blood women who have bought dress robes from Madam Malkin’s die mysteriously, Draco Malfoy starts the investigation, and Hermione is his first suspect. DramioneLove fest submission. Winner of Mod’s Choice: Best Dystopian Universe Fic. Warnings inside.

Master by AkashaTheKitty - M, one-shot -The war drags on and Hermione Granger is caught and then bought by her old enemy Draco Malfoy. But why did he do that when he obviously isn’t really interested in using her for anything? AU, very ugly themes, ONESHOT!

The Slow Thaw by camnz - M, 21 Chapters - Hermione is serving at Malfoy Mansion after the war was lost. In her bleak existance, she manages to find ways to cope. Contains nonconsentual. COMPLETE.

Subsistence by ratherbsailing - NC-17, 3 chapters - In times of war, people find different ways to survive.

Squirm by MrBenzedrine - M, 28 Chapters - Written for Halloween, 2016. Dramione. Rated M for non-con themes, as well as implied horror. TRIGGER WARNING. Draco Malfoy falls into a strange obsession with Hermione Granger. But it’s a risk -he holds a dark, sinister secret, and if he becomes too close, she just might find out what it is. Dark Fic. WIP. **WINNER: Best WIP 2017 Winter Dramione Awards** *Complete*

Crimson with a Silver Lining by Lady Cailan - M, 78 Chapters - It is six years since the fall of the Ministry to Voldemort. Those other than purebloods are deemed less than human. When Ginny’s daughter ends up in grave danger, Hermione sells herself to the Death Eaters to save her life. Draco/Hermione. Not fluffy.

His Beautiful, Haunting Eyes by thecellarfloor - M, 14 Chapters - Draco pushed her to the wall, kissed her roughly on the lips, then punched the glass window beside her head. It smashed into pieces and the crowd who had parted for him seconds ago gasped. Hermione couldn’t. She couldn’t even breathe. What have you done?

- AgnMag

#anonymous #favourite fics #dark fic #non con #tw: rape #draco: protective and possessive #draco: dark

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jawllines · 5 years

Note

WEREWOLF BLURB PLEASE!!!! ☺️✌🏼

:D YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND

Y/N’s flustered.

She hadn’t started the day out flustered – she had actually started it rather composed. After coming back from a small trip home, she had been more than ecstatic to see Harry, Niall, and the rest of the pack. To reorient herself with Maisie at the bakery and reunited Grandpa with the pups in their playroom (who, from several videos sent by Harry, were missing Gramps terribly and were rolling around in his bed and whining every time Harry brought it into them). To climb into Harry’s too large bed and only use a quarter of it because they’re snuggled so tightly together they account for merely one body.

Being away from Harry for the first time since they’d bonded felt more or less like she was leaving a limb behind and promising to come back. Which was to be expected, or at least that is what Harry told her. They were bonded, linked in spirit, through the rush of blood through their veins. It was nowhere near in the theatrical high schooler way of panic when a couple spends the weekend without seeing one another – it was a legitimate concern amongst their kind when a mating pair had to separate large distances.

The yearning was like an ache that consumed them both all over, like icy needles of want that pricked them. Sure, they could call, but it had almost made it worse – she could see his face and hear his voice but she couldn’t reach out and fiddle with the hair at his nape, and he couldn’t worm his arm around her waist and draw her nearer to him in the middle of the night when he heard her shiver. Y/N couldn’t hide her face into the base of his throat and let her eyes flutter shut when they were cuddled on her couch, Grandpa warming their feet. Harry couldn’t hold her hand as they walked along the stream on the grounds, with the crystalline water that glittered in the beams of sunlight, and she couldn’t feel his laugh rumble through his chest when she says something that makes him pull her close and chuckle.

In more direct terms, it fucking sucked.

And maybe Y/N had forgotten how flirty guys and girls could be, but she was almost a hundred percent positive that she had never been the usual target of people’s conquering affections. If anything, she used to feel as if she practically repelled it, especially at home where she spent most nights alone and having her “dates” to dances be her friends. It was just something she was used to…the majority of the people she went to school with knew her from when she was deep in an attempt of a goth phase that never really stuck and saw her cry over Polar Express about thirty times, so she wouldn’t much want to fraternize with high school her either.

Yet, when she returns, it feels like the eyes on her are endless. Not in a confidence-boosting way at all – it was a way that made her skin crawl, the way it appeared like they were drinking her in, their eyes rolling up and down her body. When she and her old high school buddies went to a club one night, there had been a group of people and 6 out of the 8 found an excuse to hug her at some point. Some of them she could hear breathe in deep and at first, she had attributed it to everyone really liking her perfume, but when the next question that followed was, “Do you have a boyfriend?” She began to become a bit suspicious.

She brought up to Niall – asked him if it were possible that there be other werewolves, who instead of staying sacred grounds, galavant through clubs and go around sniffing people. After a lengthy lecture about how she should have let him come with her like he asked, he kindly let her know that all packs were different, and while his and Harry’s had a pretty hefty mistrust for humans that were not her other packs may not care. May roam about and fuck around till their heart’s content, some even change people for fun. He told her that most likely, the people spotting her extra attention that they otherwise wouldn’t give is because she’s coated not only in the scent of a wolf but the potent scent of an alpha. One so strong and inviting that they can’t not find their way to her, caught off guard by the human body carrying it along like she’d spritzed it over her pulse points and walked out of the house.

So they were intrigued beyond belief, wanting to sniff and to understand, hoping to question her but she was always creeped out enough that she slipped away before they had the chance. She forgets how intimate the wolf community is, surpassing human limits of personal space the nth degree, especially when she hasn’t been around them for a second. At first, where there had been snide glances and uncomfortable shifts in her presence, she is now greeted with arms encompassing her tightly, deep breathing and warm laughter as they share stories with her. They enjoy how she squeaks when they squeeze too tightly and even more so how Harry grins, watching them.

“You are family,” he once told her, “They love you as I love you – though I do love you most.”

And she was okay with that – with them – but strangers who like hugging tightly, whom she first mistakes for people her friends are introducing her to (or re-introducing her to), who just go in for a whiff? It’s unsettling, and she was far more cautious in the rest of the time she spent away. Along with far more yearning from the wolves she had become used to, this switch up left her rattled.

So it’s safe to say, save for missing her friends and family back home, she was excited to go back. Ecstatic, even, and Harry was absolutely buzzing as well.

“I will be there for you at the station!” He had exclaimed to her when she explained she was now boarding the train, “With a big ol’ sign, and flowers, like in them movies you showed me.”

Low and behold, as promised, when she finally made it out of the terminal and into the main area of the station, Harry was with Niall, both holding up a large sign that had that read WE MISSED YOU and the messy painted prints of the pups that had tracked all over the white paper. A bouquet of flowers the size of her head, ones freshly plucked from Miss. Tealy’s garden on the grounds (she let Y/N eat some of the berries she’d been growing once, and when Y/N had told her they were the best she’d ever tasted, Miss. Tealy frequently began requesting her if she and Harry weren’t caught up with something else), and a box of her favorite cookies from the bakery that she knew Maisie sent in her place (she was leaving for a week-trip to Germany that day, so she had to be at the airport).

It was hard not to let her eyes well up, almost tripping over herself as she rushes over to them, walking briskly she had taken on the persona of someone in New York who has no time to get to the places they need to go. Her arms found Harry’s neck in seconds and he squeezed her so tightly that it was just about bone-crushing – if she hadn’t known any better, she would think that this was his intention.

Even if it were though, she couldn’t say that she minded it. Being in his arms again felt drinking a cold glass of water at noon, on a sweltering summer day. She was overcome with such immense love that it felt like it might burst from her orifices, ooze from her until she’s melted into a puddle on the train station floor. The only reason she pulls back is to smother his face in kisses, from his forehead to his chin, his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, his mouth. And he giggled, trying to kiss her back but he barely could do to the onslaught of her own peckish kisses.

“I missed you too,” she murmurs, nestling her nose in the bed of his throat and breathing in deep, though as she relaxes when Harry does the same he tenses up. Rigid as a board, and it’s so akin to how he was when they had met the very first time she recognizes it instantly.

In her attempt to drawback and question him, his grip around her tightens, and she feels a low rumble of a growl threatening his chest, “You do not smell of me,” he notes – not in accusation, but annoyance is clearly laced through his words as he holds onto her tighter, “Niall told me of the people troubling you with unwanted attention but I had not known they were so close. You reek of them.”

Her face drops into a pout, wiggling out of his arms with her brows furrowed, “You know the last thing you want to hear from your boyfriend after being away for two weeks is that you reek,” she chides him, turning to grab her suitcase, but she notices then that Niall had already grabbed the handle, “I showered about ten dozen times, so I don’t know why I still smell like them. I’m sorry.”

His features soften at her words, head shaking urgently, “Do not apologize,” he tells her seriously, “It is to no fault of your own – you do not…reek in that sense of the word. I smell the others more than I can smell myself on you, so I must re-scent you.” He reaches out for her again, taking her by the wrist and pulling her back towards him, to which she goes easily, allowing him to burrow his face in her hair and wrap his arms around her in a much less organ popping way, “Which is not a problem by me.”

Before Y/N can question what “re-scenting” actually indicates, Niall clears his throat dramatically, and Y/N and Harry both turn to face him, “Listen, I know the lot of you are lovebirds and s’precious, but I have not gotten a single ounce of attention for the five minutes you’ve been here, and I would just like to remind everyone I’m the reason you two met in the first place.”

Snorting, Y/N rolls her eyes and slips from Harry in favor of giving Niall a hug, “Hi Ni, you know I missed you too.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he wraps the hand not occupied with the sign around her shoulders, giving her a firm squeeze, “Missed you too. Missed your cookies and Grandpa most though.”

Grandpa, who was now being retrieved from his carrier by Harry (who did not believe that any animal should be kept in a crate, and only allowed it when Y/N explained that he had to be), was wiggling happily in his arms and licking and slurping at his face. From a jealous puppy to werewolf correspondence, to being the only two beings in a room who understand each other wholeheartedly, was a wholesome development on their part. Harry adored Grandpa (if not for being bonded to him, Y/N would have assumed he missed him far more than he missed her), and when the security guard walks up to him to let him know that animals are not allowed outside of their carrier in the station if they are not a service animal – she could see the flicker in Harry’s eyes that he was not going to allow it.

“He will stay out of his crate,” he said sternly.

“Sir –”

“Would you like to be put in a crate?” His voice is deepens, a dull growl that makes Niall stiffen and her heart race; it’s the voice of an alpha that encourages Niall to stand up taller, Y/N’s veins sizzle and her abdomen twinkles and warms, and the security guard shrinks away, “He is living and breathing, has his shots, and in no way violent. He will not be put in a crate.”

The security guard nods, “Very well, Sir.”

The power he emanates and oozes is maddening, radiating throughout the entire station, from wall to wall, and it is so all-encompassing that Y/N feels swallowed whole by it. In the absolute best way possible. Over the phone and on the screen, she forgets, because he doesn’t use that voice with her but when he is around his pack, or if she’s ever gotten him in public and something is occurring that is not up to part with his standards, he uses it. She hates the way it makes her insides twist and thighs squeeze together; the response is instinctive and apart from her – she’s usually got such a handle on her arousal, but when it comes to Harry and when it comes to that voice, she doesn’t have a handle on anything.

Harry turns to them, a goofy smile painting his lips as Grandpa pants happily beside his face, a complete contrast to the man that had just been standing there before, “There is a great feast, awaiting you, my Love, we must go at once.”

. . .

It was a second homecoming in the span of two weeks when she steps onto the grounds and inside of the now-familiar foyer. Werewolves, she finds, do not take well when their assumed human leave for any amount of time and come back smelling of others. So she was passed around like dinner plate as they all welcomed her with hugs, Grandpa following suit, sniffing and licking all of them, and in their own way, they were all scenting them both. At least taking the edge off of the other wolves, is what Niall said, when he embraces her one last time as to not look like he didn’t care that she apparently “reeked”.

Dinner was set up already and her assigned spot besides Harry had already been set with food – all of which her favorite that she had tried since she’d been here. From vegetable shepherd’s pie with duchess potatoes to marmalade sponge pudding, about three separate slices of chocolate pie coated in rainbow sprinkles. The scent of the dining hall, in general, made her mouth water, and as Harry holds her chair out for her (as he always does), she tells him as such and he reaches out, stroking at her face tenderly.

“The chefs have done their best work for you, I’ve made sure of it.”

They eat till their stuffed full; Y/N feels as though her stomach had expanded three sizes and one more bite might make her pop. She tells them stories of her hometown, what she did in her absence, and how every single one of her friends just about gushed at the fact that she was with Harry. “They talked you up so much, I was almost jealous,” she told him as she cut into her slice of pie with the side of her fork, “Got irritated when they would be saying, ‘Oh he’s so hot’ or ‘God, look at the mouth on him!’ ‘cos like, no shit I know that – and they weren’t even bringing up how absolutely sweet you were. Didn’t want them objectifying you, s’why you didn’t video chat with any of ‘em.”

Harry had made a point to keep their fingers interlocked the rest of their time at dinner, squeezing every so often, and she revels in how much she loves the feel of his hands on her skin. It almost feels urgent that she gets him to his bedroom then, and from the way they lock eyes towards the end of dinner when they’ve come around to collect the plates, she knows Harry is aware. More than aware, actually, of how she’s feeling, because not only has his body grown to match it, but he can smell it. He once told her, that the smell of her arousal commands his attention almost as instantly as her heart starts to pump a little faster, the blood rushing to her groin.

(He told her this, because she had been trying to hide how needy she was for him when he was particularly busy. Though as they sat quietly in his office, him bent over papers and Y/N silently reading, he had slammed his palm against the desk in a clap that echoed through the room, dragging her attention to him, “How am I meant to focus, when you smell so enticing? Why have you not asked me to tend to you?”)

However, both of them were filled to the brim with food and feeling sluggish and slow, and so sleepy. Y/N couldn’t fathom doing any vigorous activity other than trying to find a suitable snuggling position in bed, and when she tells Harry as much he looks grateful. Though, just as soon as Y/N lies beside him after switching into her pajamas (made of the finest threads of silk, from Harry as a gift for Christmas, despite him feeling it was a baseless holiday and he feels he should be able to gift her things because he wants to and not out of obligation for the season), he drags her to him so closely that barely a slip of paper could fit in between. He dips his nose into her neck and rubs the tip against the skin of her throat, his arm encircling her waist so that she could barely even wiggle.

Soon, where his nose was, his lips meet in a soft press against her throat. She thinks at first he’s just being sweet – he liked neck kisses – but then he captures the skin, sucking it between his lips and pinching at it with his teeth. A gasp slides from her throat, her eyes opening up wider as she’s hit with a short gust of liveliness from where she had been slowing down for bed. The hand of his arm tucked around her, is tucked between her and that mattress as if to hold her even closer, as he works the skin over, only parting to lick the broad of his tongue around the tender skin.

When she cranes her neck to look at him, he pushes their mouths together with little warning or thought, a smear of lips that makes her body tingle. He slides his tongue in between her lips and curls it around her own, no hesitation, no playful flirtiness to it like he sometimes did, but full, needy strokes like this was all he had been thinking about. All that he could think about.

The hand that had been at her side, slides up to her cheek and cradles her face, aiding her in turning so that he could more adequately invade her mouth. He shifts so that he is halfway on top of her, his thighs astride her own, his cock throbbing to life in the small, tight pair of boxers he wore. They were the ones he chose when he couldn’t be arsed to go fetch his laundry. He’d long since outgrown them, but Y/N is often grateful that he kept them around, given they left very little to the imagination and the cotton – while worn – was soft (which, in filthier connotations, was very nice to grind against).

“Need you to smell like me,” he parts from her mouth but doesn’t stray far, speaking the words against her tongue as she flickers it against his plushy, swollen bottom lip, “Inside and out.”

______________________________________________________________________

Harry has always been an impassioned and fervent lover.

Ever since the first time, when she’d been thrown into a false heat, he was diligent and dominant, made her thighs quake, kissed her breathless, held her close, rocked into her hard, and made her melt in the best way possible. He was enthusiastic and always came in what felt like waves, filling her so full that she leaked of him. Sex with Harry had always felt like such a transcending experience, she came out feeling enlivened and refreshed – exhausted as all get out but like she could conquer the world if she really wanted to.

And right then was no different.

He slides his tongue against her in these slow, stroking movements, his hand cradling her jaw in his palm so gently. Harry had wiggled over so that the heavy, heated bulge that sat heavy between his thighs was hovering just over where she coveted for him. Their noses were pressed together, where his other hand is at her hip – the fabric of her shirt had skated up her side, so his fingers dug into the bare skin. It felt like touching white-hot fire against her, her hips rolling upward idly, and just barely grazing against him.

Harry’s so hard, she knows that he must be aching for it, and when he tucks his covered cock to the crotch of her panties, he rolls his hips in these deep, digging motions. Her veins fizzle and spark, her own fingers finding themselves burrowed in his curls, bucking back up against him with her toes curling. A wet, throaty gasp pops from her throat against his mouth as she curls her legs around his hips to keep him close, as he undulated his hips against her.

It’s so good and hot and sweaty; she’s full, sleepy, her eyes heavy but she feels so nice. She’s being satiated in every way she could think possible, as the fabric of her panties grew damper with each roll. He parts from her only to breathe but they’re so wrapped up in one another they’re just sucking in each other’s air. It’s humid, her skin beginning to perspire, and Harry was always so warm in general that it contributed to the growing heat, especially the one that pulsates throughout her entire being.

“Sweet little thing,” he murmurs, his lips stroking against her own with each word he spoke, and she pushes forward to capture them for a second but he parts, “I can smell how wet you are. Can practically taste it,” he pauses the ministration of his hips and laughs when she whines, their noses pushing together for a moment as he draws backward, “You want me to taste you?”

She nodded quickly and Harry hums, slipping down to her chest, displacing the soft material of the pajama top she wore and sliding her breast in the divet of his thumb and forefinger. He takes her nipple into his mouth, pursing his lips and suckling, and her back arches some to press closer to him. It felt so good. So incredibly, horribly good, and he was nowhere precise or meticulous; it was truly feral, wet and sloppy. When he switches, he drags the fabric further, only this time he tears the fabric down the middle and Y/N gasps loudly but he couldn’t be bothered. Instead, he drags her other nipple into his mouth and wettens it with his tongue, sucking and nipping at the bud as it pebbled beneath his attention.

Icy hot tendrils of arousal spike down her abdomen; she feels herself pulsate, feeling herself drip into her panties. His movements downward are brisk, but harsh suckled bites at the tender skin of her belly, his fingers digging into her panties and ripping them at the elastic. It snaps back against her, a sting that strips up to her hip bone but she has no time to mourn the black cotton because Harry’s burying his face into her cunt like he was starved. His tongue slips between her licks, deep grinds of the wet muscle from her hole to the swollen bud.

She’s throbbing, all the blood rushing to her clit as Harry demonstrates his desire wholeheartedly. Slurping and lapping, moving is head side to side and moaning; it’s so wet, like he’s drooling over her, sloppy and messy, these groans that rattle through her body and vibrate her bones. One hand slaps down beside her side, fingers dug into the sheets beside her, and the other tangling up in his hair, which was now even more unruly than when she had left. His eyes had long since fluttered shut like he was soaking in and enjoying every moment of tasting her. He always licked into her like it was his first and final time – like he had to commit it to memory in every way he could.

“Harry,” she moans breathlessly, and Harry hums against her as his response – her whole body quivers, “Fuck, you feel so – you feel so good.”

He hums again, removing his hand from where he was pressing on her thigh to keep her spread out for him, and her parts for just a moment so he can place two fingers at her entrance. Her mouth drops open soundlessly but her breath gets caught in her throat, as he sinks them in slow, looking down at it with a small smile before his eyes glitter up to hers, “You haven’t touched yourself since we were together last, hmm?”

Her cheeks warm at his inference, nodding her head – it was true; no matter how hard done by she felt, there was no use in her own hands anymore. When she tried, she was just left with an unyielding want for him, a distinct tugging at her chest that beckoned for his fingers, his cock, his tongue. To have his nose smushed up against her mound as he slurped and sucked and licked her dry. Harry had completely ruined her for anything bringing her an orgasm that wasn’t him.

And the bastard knew it! He knew it so well, from that stupidly cocky and beautiful smile that tilts at his lips, “You’re going to cum already.” He remarks thoughtfully, sighing, “So sensitive today, Pet.”

“Stop teasing me,” she whined, shuffling down, letting her hips thrust forward against his hand. He’s got two fingers inside of her, stroking against the soft, spongy bump that makes her thighs squeeze and tremble, her walls rhythmically throb around him as his palms pressed close to her clit, “How m’I supposed to hold off when you’re doing all that?”

Tutting his tongue lowers his palm and lets his other hand slide into his ministrations, using the pad of his thumb to gently guide her clit in smooth, round little circles that make the muscles in her abdomen visibly tense, “I’m not teasing.” He tells her, eyes trained on the wet little gash between her legs, “If I were teasing then I would just –” he slides his hands from her, leaving her empty, and cold, pushing his fingers into his mouth.

“No!” She gasps, wriggling to try and get closer to his fingers and his mouth again, “No, no, don’t –”

“Look how needy you are,” he hums, framing her pussy with his hands, his thumbs holding her open as her hole clenches and squeezes, “Begging me to claim you – make you smell like me all over.” He murmurs, leaning down and letting the very tip of his tongue dip inside of her, groaning against her, and sinking in further. She thinks if it were up to him, he would lick her completely dry.

Harry giggles against her as he swirls his tongue in a circle, before peeling back again, only this time he scales up her body, pushes a kiss to her mouth so she can taste herself on his tongue as he draws his boxers down. His cock slaps up against his abdomen soundly, stiff as a rock, with the aching, purpled head leaking precum in a rivulet down the side. The tip was shiny and her mouth waters instantaneously like she’s one of Pavlov’s dogs stuck in a Cathedral.

She would beckon that he let himself into her mouth, maybe rock his hips into with his hands cradling her jaw like she’d asked him to before, but he’s got a way about him when he isn’t in the mood for a blowie. The way his eyes are blown, his movements are gentle, yet quick, and the urgency in which he lines himself up with her are a few telltale signs, to say the least. He circles the head around her soaked lips, his pillowy mouth dropping open just a little, his brows furrowing in pleasure as he revels in the feeling.

He sinks into her slowly, groaning out loud that he muffled by latching his teeth around the juncture of her neck and shoulder (his favorite spot). Y/N struggles to keep from pushing him deeper, but she refrains from it, letting him ease in how he likes. Harry wants to feel every ridge, every curve, every wall; like he’s memorizing how she feels inside. She wonders if he closes his eyes, he can feel her – she can feel him when she focuses on it enough. Can feel the wide head stroking against her insides, nudging and bumping into all the spots that make her toes curl.

The first rock of his hips is just a small roll, where his hips are still tucked against her thighs, and it shifts her body upward against the sheets. This is when Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closely (“Are you trying to keep me in, Baby? Don’t have to worry about me pulling out – might just have to walk around with you snug on my cock.” He had once said, and she almost hates how much she would love it), her arms around his neck, so that their fronts are mashed together. Another pretty noise leaves his lips, this time as he unbeds his teeth from her skin, moving so that he was slipping their mouths together again. He slips his tongue between her lips, drinking in the heady moan that leaves him when he starts up a steady pace.

They’re so close that she can feel the muscles in his stomach tense and relax, moving beneath the skin as the filthy sounds of him fucking into her begin to feel the room. The thwack their bodies colliding that reverberates in her ear like a beat, his fingertips dug deep in her thigh while his other hand kept him held up as he pressed it against the headboard, working with the balance he’s deviating onto his knees.

Y/N would ride him if she could but she knew well enough that he needed this and she needed this. Needed the raw, primal energy of him fucking into deep, hard, alternating between slow and quick – it made the both of them feel better. She had missed him so desperately, to feel this close after being so far apart was like stumbling upon a hot spring in Antarctica. Their souls have tied and knotted, their hearts beating as one, her eyes water from the undulating pleasure of being loved and getting brought to a mind-shattering orgasm after weeks of nothing.

She reburies her hand in his hair, tangling her fingers up in the strands and she clenches around him when he lets out a low growl as she tugs, “Make you smell like me, Puppy,” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to her, “Bloody fucking bastards had their hands all over you – don’t they know you’re mine?” He cradles her face, running a thumb over her cheek and Y/N peers up into his soft, green irises with a blurry gaze. Harry doesn’t worry when she cries during sex – mostly because he can feel deep within his being when she’s actually upset, but partly because he just knows…he knows she gets so overwhelmed by the sensations of everything, she can’t help but tear up. “Don’t they know I’m your Alpha?”

“They know,” she feels the first telltale sign of her orgasm bristling at the edges, “You feel so good – you smell so good, they know, they know and if they don’t I’ll tell them myself. Show them all my bite marks.”

Harry groans, nodding and leaning forward to smear his mouth over hers, reaching down to her clit and rubbing tight little circles into it. Y/N’s thighs squeeze around him tightly, her orgasm ripples through her in hot waves of static, that sizzles through her body in electric waves. She moans against his mouth and he swallows the sound down, his own orgasm striking him, his knot slipping inside of her. He’s cumming in hot spurts that coat her walls, filling her up and despite his locking with her some still manage to slip out (she can feel it). Harry cumming in her is one of her favorite feelings, as he throbs and pulses, his hips twitch and buck, his grip on her – wherever it may be – tightens up and holds her close. He empties everything he’s got until she feels full and she revels in it.

As they both come down, Harry’s eyes flutter open with a dreamy smile that he gives her, and her heart leaps against her ribcage, “I missed you.” He tells her for at least the twentieth time that night, “With my whole being.”

She returns his smile, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I missed you more.”

His brows tilted, “There is no possible way,” he repositions them so that she was lying on her side and he was spooning her from behind, his arms wrapped back around her, one palm warm palm on her stomach. He dips his face into her throat, breathing in deep, and a low rumbled purr begins to rattle through him. To know that he’s comfortable soothes her even more than she had been, as her eyes began to flutter. The exhaustion that they had felt prior catches back up with them, she can tell as they melt into each other.

“Come with me next time,” she tells him, “Come meet my family.”

He pauses, raising his head and him shifting makes Y/N crane her neck to peek at him, “You want me to? Even though I am – I am –”

“Perfect?” Y/N finishes for him, not allowing him to get insecure about his nature, “Yes, I want you to, even though you’ll definitely show me up.”

And Harry breaks into a cheek splitting grin, moving forward to kiss her again, his hold on her even tighter than before.

#bLURB #OR #BLURBS #Anonymous #harry smut

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reminiscing-writer · 5 years

Text

Unexpected Surprise

Prompt: Reid is a regular at his local bookstore, and also has a very good acquaintance with the young storekeeper there. When she turns down his date very last second, he finds a secret about her that can’t help but make him fall harder for her.

Warning: idk man I’m just tryna write fluff lmao I got hella carried awayyyy

We all deserve happy Reid

—————

The cold October air whizzed by, as Spencer walked into Pages And Pages, his local bookstore, with a large smile on his face, and two steaming coffees in hand. He’d made it a part of his schedule to try and drop by at least once a week. Sure, the books were very captivating, but so was the receptionist.

He thought, from the moment he laid eyes on her, that she was a beauty. Her hair was always loosely tied in a bun, her make up close to minimal, and her sense of style almost mirrored his- sweaters. Lots of sweaters.

He found it fairly easy to talk to her, because, although at first he stumbled with his words, her kind and soft spoken demeanor drew him into a safe space.

Y/n was very well aware of Spencer’s occupation. If he didn’t come by on his weekly visit, she’d figure he was out saving the world, as she liked to put it.

The little bell on the large oak door of the bookstore rang as Spencer entered, and headed straight for y/n’s desk. He was very punctual. 12:15 every Friday. Y/n didn’t even have to look up to know that the shadow covering her table was him.

She had a smile etched on her lips before she even looked up, “You realize I’m seeing you in less than 48 hours right?” She joked, taking the cup of coffee he handed to her.

“I do,” he smiled, just as stricken by her beauty as the last time he saw her, “but, I didn’t want to skip out on meeting with you today.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind his ear.

She takes a sip of her drink, humming at the delightful taste, “Why won’t you just tell me what you order?” She has her eyes closed, having every taste bud tingle in happiness, “This is delicious.”

He laughs slightly at her happiness, “Becuase, if I told you, then you could get it yourself, anytime. And, I want these coffee meetings to be special.” He says, shyly shrugging.

Y/n’s cheeks filled with a rose blush, “Dr. Reid, you are over the top.” She laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Just wait until Sunday,” Spencer sips his own coffee, “I’ll pick you up from your place, by 8 o’clock, you said, right?” He double-checked. He didn’t need to double check. He had it memorized down to a T. Her address. The route. The time to pick her up. The restaurant he was planning on taking her too. The walk that he planned on them taking from said restaurant to a small ice cream parkour.

He didn’t need to double-check anything.

“Mm-hmm,” She hummed, sipping her drink this time, nodding slightly, “he should be down by then,” she mumbles to herself, quickly scribbling down something on paper, “I’ll be ready by 8, waiting for you.” She smiled.

“I’m so sorry.” Y/n apologied for the hundredth time. “I really feel awful. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.” She sniffled over the phone.

“No, I-its fine,” Spencer spoke into his cell, trying so hard to mask the disappointment that was dripping in his voice, “I understand.” He was pacing back and forth in the break room at the office, “We couldn’t possibly know you’d be getting down with bronchitis. It’s not your fault.” Spencer says, scratching the back of his neck.

Y/n had called Saturday afternoon, the day before the duos scheduled date. She had been coughing and sniffling, saying she went to the Urgent Care near her earlier that morning because she was feeling off, and they said she had came down with a pretty bad case of bronchitis.

She kept apologizing and saying she’d make it up to Spencer as soon as she felt better.

Spencer tried not to take the date-canceling to heart. Y/n really was sick, she wouldn’t lie about that- would she? No, of course not. She wasn’t like that.

“Listen, don’t worry about it.” Spencer stopped pacing, “Just rest. That’s what you’ll need to feel better quicker.”

He heard her giggle lightly, causing him to smile, “Thanks, Doc.” He snickered at the nickname, “Hey, Spence,” he hummed in response, “I really do like you.” She said, causing his stomach to turn, “Please, don’t think I’m turning you down or anything. I really was looking forward to our date. And, I really do mean it when I say we’ll go on another one.”

He smiled to himself, putting one hand in the pocket of his jeans and swaying slightly, side to side, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

It had to be the right address. Spencer checked his phone for y/n’s previous message and confirmed it for the third time. He held his breath for a second, and licking his lips, he rang the doorbell again.

He felt bad that y/n had gotten bronchitis that just didn’t seem to go away for almost 5 days now. His first priority of Wednesday morning was to stop at a small Chinese spot and grab some soup.

Surprising her would be a small little thing he was hoping would make her happy. So, there he was. At y/n’s doorstep, soup in hand, ringing her bell, awaiting for her to open up.

He checked his watch again, and shuffled his feet. His stomach fluttered as soon as he heard shuffling from behind the door.

“I’m coming!” He heard her voice from inside. He played with the box of soup in hand, and bit his bottom lip anxiously. That’s when he heard a faint cry. Not her cry, though. A cry that seemed to belong to a small child. A baby, maybe. Spencer furrowed his brows, confused. “Baby, please, you have to lie down.” He heard y/n’s voice from a distance.

After some more shuffling around, the door before him opened. Y/n distractedly looked up at Spencer just to do a double take, shocked. “S-Spence? What- What are you doing here?” She asked, barely in frame of the open door.

He looked at her, unable to speak for a second. She fully came into view of him. She adjusted a small sleeping baby in her arms, the child’s head resting on her shoulder.

“I-um, I came to see you.” He spoke slowly, and quietly, “I bought soup.” He held up the box in his hands.

Y/n smiled, and just as she opened her mouth to reply, the baby she was holding began stirring causing her eyes to widen, “Come on in.” She whispered hastily, nodding to Spencer before going into her abode.

Spencer followed behind her, unsure of what exactly was happening. Questions were running through his head, but it was as if his body was working before his mind could catch up.

Y/n went straight to a small couch, and sat down, pulling her legs up, and cuddling the small child in her arms, wrapping the both of them up with a nearby shawl. Spencer’s heart warmed up at the sight, and he unknowingly smiled to himself.

He slowly walked towards the two when he heard a small but gruel cough come from the baby’s mouth.

“You’re... not the one that’s... sick?” He slowly pieced together, sitting on a couch opposing from the one y/n was on.

Y/n sighed quietly and licked her lips. Shaking her head, she stroked the small child’s hair, “No,” she looked up at Spence, “I’m not. They’re calling it bronchilitis, because he’s so young. It should be gone in about a week total, so at least 2 to 3 days left.” She swallowed hard. “It’s the first time he’s ever gotten sick, and I couldn’t just leave him with a sitter, which is why I had to stay back on our date. Im sorry,” she apologized in the midst of her ramble, “I just...” she paused before breaking eye contact with Spencer, “we don’t have anyone but each other.”

Spencer stayed silent for a moment. He watched y/n hold the baby close and his heart felt all heavy. It was a sight he didn’t think could affect him at all. But, something about a girl he was already infatuated with, being so protective and loving made him fall even deeper for her.

He just couldn’t form any words to express this to her, so he stared at the mother-son silently. That is, until the baby started coughing again. Y/n cringed at the way her son shook as he forced the cough out of his small body.

“I understand if you want to leave,” y/n spoke up, feeling Spencer’s eyes on her, “I shouldn’t have hid the fact that I’m a mother. It’s just, I know that some people would have seen it as,” she shrugged, “extra baggage, so I just refrain from saying it at all. I apologize.”

“You apologize far too much.” Spencer spoke without thinking for once, shocking himself and y/n. He stood up from his seat, and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, “Does he, uh, drink soup?” Spencer asked nodding to the child.

Y/n cracked a small smile, “Adam,” she said, “and, yes, he actually is very fond of soup.”

Spencer nodded, before finding his way into the kitchen. As quietly as possible, he emptied the soup into a bowl, and plopped a decent looking spoon into it. Filling a small glass with water, he brought it out to y/n, who was now standing, pacing with a very upset looking Adam.

Spencer’s brows furrowed in worry.

“He’s fine,” y/n assured him, “just a little fussy. Don’t worry.”

“It’s tough, huh?” Spencer spoke, not sitting down until Adam had calmed, “Being a parent, I mean.”

Y/n had seated up the small one year-old next to her on the couch. She was slowly feeding him the soup, and although he was dozed off on meds, he slurped it up happily.

“Being a single parent is something I wasn’t ready for,” y/n admits, wiping some soup of Adams chin, “but, I love this monkey so much,” she scrunched her nose to her son, who gave a very sleepy smile in return, having Spencer laugh lightly, “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Spencer answered the third FaceTime call he had received in the past 5 minutes, “Hey, sorry I was in a meeting with Hotch, is everyth-” he cut his sentence short when he saw his girlfriends face tearstreaked on screen. “Oh, my god,is everything okay? Are you hurt? Is Adam okay?” He quickly rambled, his mind thinking the worst.

Y/n sniffled, “I’m fine, we’re fine,” she quickly answered, “just, wait-“ she quickly runs into a different room and Spencer can hear Adam babbling in the background. He smiles hear the child’s voice. “Watch this.” Y/n tells Spencer. She pulls up a photo, and shows it to her boyfriend first.

It was of the two of them on New Years Eve, happily smiling. Spencer was holding a very giggly Adam, and had his free arm wrapped around y/n’s waist.

She turns the photo to Adam, “Sweetheart,” she tries to grab her sons attention, “hey, Adam,” He looks up to her wide eyed, “you know who this is, baby?” She points to herself.

Adam starts clapping and smiling, “Mama! Mama!” Y/n starts tearing up all over again.

“Yes!” Spencer encourages the child, “Hey, good job!” He gets shushed by y/n quickly.

She points to Spencer in the photo and asks Adam, yet again, “Okay, sweety, and who’s this?” She ask, already ready to cry again.

Adam starts laughing and jumping in place, “Dada! Is dada!”

Spencer gasps, covering his agape mouth with one hand. “Did you teach him that?” He asks a very ecstatic y/n who shakes her head.

“No, he just started to point to the picture all by himself and talk.” She sniffled, leaving the room her son was sitting in.

“Well, one things for sure,” a very smiley Spencer admits happily, “he’s smart, just like his Mama.” He attempts a wink, causing y/n to laugh.

It was early. Y/n could feel the December brisk air seeping into the apartment, making her pull her duvet up to cover herself further. She felt a tug, as her boyfriend pulled her covers back from her.

“Hey,” She grumbled, “no hogging.” She whined causing Spence to turn to face her and snicker sleepily.

The two heard their bedroom door open slowly, and the slight pitter patter of small feet tip toe in.

“He’s awake.” Spencer whispered to his girlfriend, peeping one eye open.

“Brace yourself.” Y/n groaned, just seconds before the three year old attacker jumped on the bed. He bounced and he jumped and he laughed loudly, inevitably causing him the grown ups in bed to groan and slowly sit up in bed.

“Mama, Daddy! It’s Critthy Time! It’s Critthy time, now!!” He pumped his tiny fists into the air.

Spencer smiles, still trying to open both eyes, “Did Santa even get you any gifts? You’ve been been pretty naughty lately.” Y/n groans, covering her head with a pillow.

“So many! Daddy, there’s like,” Adam puts up 3 fingers carefully, “this many boxes with my name!!”

Spencer fake gasps causing the child to have a giggle fit, “Honey, Adam has been such an angel, I’m sure all of the gifts under the tree are his.” Spence pulls the pillow off y/n’s face receiving a groan from her. “Long night?” He smirks to her, causing her to stick her tongue out. Her cheeks slightly blushed as she remembered the... eventful night the two shared.

“I’m exhausted.” She sighed, sitting up and rubbing her tired eyes. Adam jumps out of the bed and runs to the living room. Spencer can’t help but smile at the little ones pajamas.

They were a mom-dad-child set. So all three of them were wearing the same red plaid winter pajamas. Spencer and y/n had gone to sleep in just the pants of the set, so before they went out to the Christmas tree, they made sure to put on the shirts as well.

Y/n groggily made her way to the sofas, and sat by the foot of one. Spencer made his way to the kitchen to put the coffee on before he sat beside y/n, his arm draping around her shoulders, and her resting her head on his chest.

Adam came up to y/n, putting his face a mere centimeters from hers, as grabs her shoulders by his small hands. “Can I open, now? Please?” He pouted to his mother.

She laughed and kissed her nose, “Of course, monkey. Let’s see what Santa got my big boy.” Adam cheered before running to the small pile of boxes under the decently lit tree.

He help up a box, and took it to Spencer first, having him nod in indication that it does in fact have Adams name on it. Happily he plops down right in front of y/n and starts to tear open the wrapping paper. The smell of coffee starts to fill the apartment, and Spencer gives y/n a kiss on the forehead before getting up to go to the kitchen.

“Mama?” Adam whispers to his mother, who simply hums at him in response, “You know, Daddy opened presents not asking you.” He said to y/n innocently.

She furrowed her brows, ruffling his hair, “What are you talking about, Pumpkin?”

“Daddy,” he repeats, “he took a small box and hid it in his jacket. He don’t want you to know. So, you can’t get mad.” He explained, although causing more confusion to his already confused mother.

Y/n had suspicions for a few months now. She once overheard Spencer on the phone with his colleagues, saying something along the lines of yeah man, I knew she was the one a while ago. Any day now. I’m just deciding on when.

Then, she was borrowing his phone once when Adam has dropped hers down the toilet, and when she opened Safari, she saw 2 tabs open. One that had been searching for unique and special rings, and the other that was searching, children’s tuxes and suits.

But, what really put the icing on the cake for her, was when the three of them were coming home late after one Spencer’s teammates wedding. Y/n had been tired so she was resting her head, with her eyes closed. Adam was already fast asleep, snoring lightly. Spencer has put his hand on y/n’s thigh, and when her being to tired to respond, translated into she’s asleep for him, he said the words that had been tugging at y/n’s heart since then.

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Y/n unfolds her legs, and slowly gets up, “Mama’s gonna go check on Daddy,” she informs her child, “I’ll be right back.” She kisses the top of his hair.

She goes into the kitchen to see two mugs with steaming coffee in them, but no Spencer in sight. She furrows her brows, and turns to head into the bedroom, looking for her boyfriend. Glancing over her room she fails to see him again. She frowns slightly, and turns around on her heels, almost falling over her own feet when she bumps into Spencer right behind her.

“You scared me.” She frightenedly giggles, putting a hand over her heart. “I was looking for- What... are you doing?” She narrows her eyes at him when he takes a step back, and gets down on one knee. She sees a paper and a small box in his hand.

Her breathing fastens, watching his every move, “I was planning on doing this on New Years, at Rossi’s house party,” Spencer started off, “but, my surprise seems to have been foiled.” He nervously laughs. “Y/n,” him saying her name causes her eyes to start tearing up, “You came into my life unexpectedly,” he says, “but, I decided a long time ago, that you were definitely the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” He looked over his shoulder to Adam, then back to y/n, “Both of you.” He inhaled as y/n’s bottom lip trembled, “Y/n,” she whimpers in response, biting her bottom lip, “will you do me the honor of making me your husband, and the official father of Adam?”

Y/n in the midst of her crying, sniffles and cocks her head, confused. She walks closer to Spencer, pulling him to stand up. He hands her the piece of paper and opens the small box in his hands.

A beautiful ring shone brightly in Spencers hands, and adoption papers shook in y/n’s hands.

1 very cold wedding, 2 additional siblings to Adam and a kitten later; and still, Spencer refused to tell y/n what type of coffee he would get for her when they go out.

I kinda like this mmm we’ll see my opinion change in a few days lol

#spencer fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #pure fluff #fluffy fluff #im actually proud of this #hehe #daddy spence #dad!spencer #christmas #very long blurb lol #fluff #cute #single mom #thats not a trigger #right #lol

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wrathandgreed · 4 years

Note

I wanna know about your ocs!! microscope, ufo aaand love note for both mia and rae (or the one you prefer)

Gladly! Sorry this took so long; I started it last night but then my husband spiked a fever and we had to run to urgent care for a COVID test and my ipad ate my reply while I was gone :P

Microscope: “Zoom in - describe the little, insignificant details about an OC” (I wasn’t sure if this meant physical or other, so I did one of each :)

Rae (MC):

Girl loves everything peanut - Reeses? Check. Peanut butter fudge? Check. If it doesn’t have peanuts, it’s not worth calling candy/dessert. Her favorite thing ever is a vanilla sundae with crushed Reeses cups, Reeses pieces, and peanut butter sauce on top. With sprinkles.

She also has strangely long and thin fingers, like good luck finding a department store ring to fit her that didn’t come out of the little girls’ department. The only places she’s found that sell rings she can wear is Hot Topic. She buys her rings off Etsy now.

Mia (OC):

Collects tarot cards, but doesn’t believe in them. She loves the art, the symbolism, and how cards can be completely different but mean the same thing. She loves how much work and thought goes into making a cohesive deck. She’s memorized all the meanings and can easily do readings, but she’s insistent that everyone winds up matching what they already think to the cards. Will go on long psychology-related rants about it.

Has really really long eyelashes - like, she wears contacts because her eyelashes kept smushing against her glasses and making it hard to blink. They’re super long but not super dark, so she’ll tint them up with mascara if she’s going somewhere special.

UFO: “Identity! What are some key identifying qualities or traits of your OC(s)? How do they identify in regards to gender/sexuality?

Rae

With regards to gender/sexuality, she’s a cis woman, pansexual, and a dedicated monogamist. She’s very big into the idea of finding a partner and dedicating her life to them.

Professionally, she’s studying to work in art restoration and conservation. She’s patient and serious when it’s time to work, which throws people off because her personal identity is that of a prankster and fun-loving social butterfly. She’s also a singer in a metal band, so her rebellious streak definitely forms a huge part of her identity.

In fact, she’s worried about actually making her way in the art world because restoration/conservation tends to be a conservative (ha ha) field and between her color-rotation hair, variety of tattoos, and foul mouth, she’s doubtful she’ll actually get a job.

The rest of her identity is what she struggles with - the rejected no-hoper foster kid, no family, no friends because who can keep friends when you change foster families and schools every 6 months? The casual abuse, the neglect, the (thankfully temporary) loss of her brother, the suicide attempt - all of it led her to a family that loved her, but you can’t make up for 16 years of awful that quickly.

Mia:

Gender/sexuality: Mia would kind of identify as a woman, but it doesn’t matter too much to her. She’s not sure she’d go so far as to say genderqueer or Demigirl, but she’s not really invested in gender. She feels more like a woman than anything else, but is “meh” on it. She looks damn good in a dress and she knows it, but she’s more comfortable in cargo pants and tank tops. She’s straight, but poly. She needs her partners to be her family, and not every partner has to be a romantic or sexual partner. She craves physical affection and hates being alone. Hanging around in a cuddle puddle watching a movie with one or more partners is ideal for her. And if her partners are also partners? Bliss.

Beyond that, she identifies as a maker. If she’s not straight-up relaxing or doing some other job for her House, she’s building, crafting, or creating. Her style of magic is non-ritualistic, and she’s capable of imbuing what she makes with intention and power. Some items might take her months or years to create, but goddamit the end result will be usable, powerful, and, preferably, aesthetically pleasing.

She’s studied psychology but never actually made it into being a therapist. She has the degree and a year working at a home for troubled kids, but Magic and Making got a hold of her that was far tighter - and allowed for travel, and meeting powerful and interesting people :)

She identifies as a bookworm when she has the time to read, and if she can’t read, she’ll listen to audiobooks while she makes stuff. Part of her love of psychology stems from her love of fiction - books taught her how to deal with the world, and she’ll analyze any kind of story for hours.

Love Note: Who likes who? Crushes? Relationships? Are they mutual or unrequited?

Rae:

Rae and Mammon get a hold of each other pretty fast and never let go. It’s a solid, mutual relationship based on affection, dumbassery, and sarcasm.

If Mammon wants to do something stupid, Rae will find a way to either make it work, or to make it REALLY FUCKING STUPID.

(If it’s going to be dangerous or super illegal, she’ll talk him out of it.)

If Rae wants to do something stupid, Mammon will 1000% ramp it up to ridiculous levels, to the point where it never happens because they’re cracking up like morons over the plan instead of executing the plan.

Then there are days and nights spent locked in one of their rooms just chilling and being together. There’s a quiet there that works.

Mammon also SUPER accidentally helped her find her brother again.

Mia:

Oh boy. Mia’s story is still very much in the works and is VERY VERY self-indulgent, romantically speaking. I’m actually kind of embarrassed, but the story makes me happy.

Married her childhood sweetheart at 18 because the college they were attending wouldn’t let them live together on campus, and you could only live off-campus as a freshman if you were married. They’d been inseparable since they were in kindergarten, so why tf not, right?

(Was still poly when with him, just more casual about partners besides him.)

Lasted a whole three more years. Found out husband had some (diluted, but present) Celestial blood. As he struggled to figure out what this meant, it opened the door to be essentially radicalized into bounty-hunting “rogue” witches and sorcerers. They weren’t happy by this point, and Mia bounced.

Wound up moving around cities for awhile. Has what SHOULD have been a one-night stand with a mysterious sorcerer she met in a bar when some asshole would take her “no” at face value.

He helps her unlock her suppressed magic; has to do a lot of research to figure out WTF to do with non-ritual-based magic. This takes time.

Before they know it, what should have been a one night stand or, at best, a friends with benefits relationship, has suddenly become like 5 years of her, him, and his favorite demon, Asmo, as a kind of poly triad.

But he’s doing shady Sorcerer Stuff behind her back, like an asshole, and gets pulled into the exchange program before they can sort it out.

Mia has a TEMPER, and that’s the final straw. She’s a “leave no survivors, salt the earth” kind of psycho when you push the wrong buttons, so she lights out and has to cut off Asmo too, because he’ll tell Sol where she is if she doesn’t.

Winds up in The Conclave, a sort of sanctuary for non-ritual-based magicians, where she uses her talent for Making Magical Stuff to help them with their defense and offense. War strategy stuff. They jokingly call her General.

Who else winds up there? Rae! (Where else is a human with little magical ability but access to Devildom go? Conclave’s been around for centuries; well, look, they have a lot of art that needs cleaning.....) Who does Rae bring? Mammon! Mammon, at some point, brings Satan because there’s info he needs that MIGHT be in their extensive, centuries-old library....

Which leads to Satan and Mia hanging out a lot, him doing a lot of reading aloud while she makes stuff, then discussions of the books. Which leads to dating.

Which leads to a reuniting with Asmo. And Sol.

And A WHOLE LOT OF DRAMATIC SELF-INDULGENT STUFF LATER, we’ve got a poly quad with some interesting ground rules.

*whew* That took a lot longer than I expected! I have no idea how to be concise :) Hope it wasn’t too boring!!

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me satan #obey me Solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me Mc #obey me mctober #obey me Mc ask meme #obey me swd #my own self indulgent nonsense

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michelles-garden-of-evil · 3 years

Text

Episode 44 Review: The Second Séance

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 | 3 }

{ Full Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

Hello and welcome back to my Garden of Evil, in time for the final episode of Strange Paradise by its co-creator and original headwriter Ian Martin. This marks yet another milestone in the history of this fun and sometimes perplexing soap opera: a little bittersweet, although I know that, unlike viewers in 1969, I can return to early Maljardin whenever I want.

In some ways, Ian Martin’s departure will benefit the show. Like a traditional soap, his SP scripts were generally slow-paced and heavy on recap, with variations of certain lines (e.g. “we must find the conjure doll and the silver pin”) repeated episode after episode. When Robert Costello replaced Selig Alkon as producer, he mandated several changes to the show. His stated reason: to help SP’s other co-creator Jerry Layton achieve his goal of improving the Gothic soap’s ratings:

"New York and Los Angeles stations took it off the air because ratings were poor. And because they are the key stations for money purposes, Robert Costello, who did Dark Shadows for four years, was called in," one of the actors said this week. "Costello took one look at several episodes and said he wasn't going to have anything to do with it the way it was. So the series was changed considerably.”

[...]

In the studio this week, Costello (who produced The Nurses, the Patty Duke Show and Armstrong Circle Theatre) said Strange Paradise was abandoning old voodoo, hallmarks of the first 13 weeks, for heavy occult (witches covens, ESP, apparitions and the like). "The concept, though good, was not completely workable for a day-in and day-out series," admitted its creator and executive producer Jerry Layton.[1]

Naturally, so many changes required a segue from the show’s original format that wasn’t too abrupt, hence the break from Martin’s original plans for the story and the creation of the current weird transitional plotline about the Rabbit of Evil. There are twenty-one episodes of Maljardin left after this one, followed by a shift of setting to Desmond Hall. Like Maljardin, Desmond Hall has its good parts and bad parts, fun characters and not-so-fun ones, but I’ll cover those when I get to them.

Do you remember my Episode 40 review, where I speculated at the end about how the original second séance might have gone? Well, this one is similar in some ways to the séance described in the Lost Episode summaries, but the way it plays out is bizarre. And by “bizarre,” I mean, “What the hell is Vangie thinking, holding it now?”

The (visible) participants of the first séance, from Episode 36 (clockwise from top left): Dr. Alison Carr, Quito, Vangie Abbott, Raxl, Reverend Matt Dawson, and Jean Paul Desmond.

In Episode 36, the choice of who participated and who didn’t participate in the séance followed a certain logic. Four of the six chosen participants had a direct connection to Erica Desmond: her sister Alison, her husband Jean Paul, and her servants Raxl and Quito. The latter two were doubly qualified to participate, both being members of the Conjure Faith, with Raxl helping Vangie determine who could attend and who was forbidden in the previous episode. They excluded Elizabeth, Tim, and Dan for being “disruptive influences” and Holly out of concern for her safety, but allowed Matt because of his strong faith as a man of the cloth. (Remember that, at that point, they still trusted him.) In addition, they left a seventh chair open for Erica’s spirit, making the total number of (invited) participants seven. This, according to Vangie, is one of the ideal numbers for a séance, the other being five. It’s logical, it follows the rules that the author establishes via Vangie, and therefore it makes sense that the second séance would be set up in much the same way.

In my post on Episode 40, I used this logic along with clues from several Lost Episode summaries (including the one for this episode) to try to reconstruct the events of the original second séance, which was slated to take place in that episode before script rewrites. The summaries indicated that Matt would return for the second séance and that Elizabeth would join him, although Vangie’s reasoning for including her in this one is unknown. I excluded Holly from my list because I felt it would be out of character for Vangie to knowingly endanger her life and speculated that Alison may have refused to take part out of justified anger at Jean Paul for making Vangie endanger all of their lives. I also excluded Tim and Dan, because I felt that neither had any reason to participate unless substituting for someone else. In addition, I assumed that Jean Paul would have originally participated in all the séances, being the one who initiated them in the first place, as well as Raxl and Quito for their loyalty to both their dead mistress and to Vangie. I concluded that the most likely participants for the second séance would have been Vangie, Matt, Elizabeth, Raxl, Quito, and Jean Paul: six living/undead participants like the first, but with Alison swapped with Elizabeth.

But what do you do on short notice, while Jean Paul is freaking out in his room, Alison trying to help him calm down, and Raxl and Quito are...sleeping, I suppose? (The episode gives no explanation for their absence, unlike with Jean Paul and Alison.) You hold an emergency séance in the same exact location as before, at a glass-top table identical to the first, with whomever is available. That includes Matt, Holly, and the disruptive influences of Elizabeth and Dan. Vangie claims there’s no time to wait, so emergency séance it is, even if it means breaking all the previously established rules.

Holly lampshading how the second séance comes out of frigging nowhere.

“Jean Paul cannot wait,” says the Conjure Woman. “The need is urgent, the need to find out from whence this locket came. I must choose those of you who will help Jean Paul Desmond contact his wife Erica.”

Holly tries to nope out of it, but Vangie--surprisingly, given her previous concern for her safety--refuses to let her. “You, if the spirits choose,” she insists, “the spirits” here most likely meaning some combination of Robert Costello, Jerry Layton, and Steve Krantz. (Let’s remember that the Serpent previously told her not to invite certain people, Holly included.) It’s a cop-out line, in effect, where the show acknowledges that it’s breaking the previously established rules to obey the new producer’s wish to speed up the action.

The reason why this séance is so urgent? The bloodied locket of Erica’s that Raxl found around the black rabbit’s neck in the previous episode, combined with Vangie’s speculation that the rabbit may be Erica reincarnated. The fact that the locket had blood on it makes Dan even more suspicious of Jean Paul, especially after Matt reminds him that eclampsia (which Jean Paul claims took Erica’s life) is a bloodless death. He begins another tirade about how he thinks that Jean Paul killed both Erica and Dr. Menkin and how he’s going to sail off the island, which Vangie interrupts:

That’s Vangie’s way of saying “shut up.”

Vangie tells the four characters in the room--Holly, Elizabeth, Dan, and Matt--to sit at the table and begin the séance, because a presence has arrived. The first three do, but Dan remains standing and tries to persuade Matt to not take part in the occult ritual.

“You, GO!” Vangie screams at Dan. “PLEASE, GO!” He leaves and, without having anyone join hands, Vangie calls out to her father, the Conjure Man, to ask whose spirit is there. And then she enters a trance and starts screaming, “LET ME OUT!” while breathing heavily. Frightened, Holly runs to her room, while Vangie continues screaming, only to leave her trance a moment later and ask, “Where’s Holly?”

“She couldn’t stand it,” says Elizabeth. “I don’t think that I can, either, or any of us.”

“It was two spirits,” Vangie continues. “One so angry, so confined in some place, in some form.” She rubs her neck as though rubbing scabs left by the chain of an uncomfortable locket. “It’s so dry, so dry!” Elizabeth leaves to get her a drink to quench her thirst.

The way Vangie rubs her neck reminds me of Erica’s bloodied locket.

Their first attempt a disaster, they go their separate ways. Vangie speaks to the portrait of Jacques Eloi des Mondes, demanding an answer to how the rabbit and locket appeared. In her monologue, she reveals that he “[has] always been an enemy” and that he “would laugh at [her] clouded sight”; also that the spirit she felt was “not so much evil as angry, horribly angry and confined!”

Elizabeth offers Vangie some wine. Rather suspicious.

Elizabeth returns with some wine for Vangie’s throat (wouldn’t that only dehydrate her more?) and is about to set it on the séance table when Vangie stops her. “The spirits may not cross it,” she explains, so Elizabeth moves the glass and decanter over to the table where they usually sit.

Vangie picks up the locket and starts thinking out loud about it, when Elizabeth says that she wishes that Jean Paul would just let them open it. This enrages Vangie, who says, “I made a mistake when I asked yo to join the séance. I need all the help I can get, but yours will disrupt!”

“I will not be ordered around!” Elizabeth shouts.

Hearing Vangie scream about how she brings anger, Elizabeth leaves for Holly’s room, where she confides in her about how she doesn’t trust Jean Paul anymore. I think that this is Martin’s subtle way of letting the audience know that her romantic pursuit of Jean Paul/Jacques is over and the new producer and writers have no intentions on continuing it.

Elizabeth’s dress has some interesting pleats/pintucks in the front.

Holly asks her if she believes that the rabbit is Erica’s reincarnation. She thinks it’s ridiculous, but acknowledges that they must humor him while they are stuck on the island because his delusions affect everyone trapped there. “Holly, we need each other,” she says, “if only to exchange notes.” She persuades Holly to return to the séance to keep tabs on what happens.

Elizabeth has come to her senses.

Meanwhile in the Great Hall, Vangie lampshades Jean Paul’s and Alison’s absences again and predicts Dan’s death and Jean Paul’s continued possession. (At least that’s what I think she means by “Jean Paul’s mind and body will hang in the balance by an act of the Devil.”) Still determined to disbelieve in his religion’s personification of evil, Matt accuses either her, Raxl, or someone else on the island of masquerading as the Devil. She starts to try talking him into staying and being part of the séance using his belief in the afterlife, when Dan arrives and announces loudly and in the direction of Jean Paul’s bedroom(!) that he’s going to use one of the boats in the boathouse to escape and tell the police about his suspicions.

That’s when Holly arrives for the séance do-over. This time, it’s four visible characters--Holly, Dan, Matt, and Vangie--plus the spirit, thus making a total of five. Like the first séance, she tells them only to focus on Erica, but this time Dan’s anger disrupts the contact and Vangie flips out on him!

The bad subtitle here, while not especially original, is too perfect.

He storms out and the séance continues. Vangie calls on her father for help, saying, “There is a message...a warning...I cannot bring it through! The path must be clear! What is the warning, Conjure Man?”

And then, all of a sudden, the spirit comes through:

Vangie: (possessed) “Let me out! OUT! Let me out!”

“OUT, OUT, OUT, OOOOUUUUTTT! Is he here yet, Jean Paul? JEAN PAAAAAUUUUULLLL!” [Notice that they’re not touching hands as Vangie insisted that the participants of the first séance do.]

Holly: (possessed) “Out, out, out. Let me out.”

“Out, out, out, OUT, OUT, OUT, AAAAAAAHHHHH!”

Matt directs Dan to the decanter with a tilt of his head and Dan makes Holly drink the wine that Elizabeth poured for Vangie earlier. But, rather than calm her, the wine makes her collapse to the floor in agony:

Holly faints from the poison in the wine.

“If the missing cyanide was in this, I’m afraid Holly is dead!” says Dan after sniffing the inside of the glass. But is it cyanide, and is Holly Marshall dead? I suppose you’ll have to stay tuned for Episode 45 (the episode or the review).

I don’t want you to think that, because I criticized some things about this episode, I must dislike it. Quite the contrary. While some things about this episode do reek of subverting expectations just for the sake of subversion (they didn’t have to film a séance episode on Colin Fox’s day off), the final scene is wonderfully chilling and Angela Roland gets to use her acting chops more in this episode than in any of the previous ones. Also, the missing cyanide subplot finally becomes relevant again at the end with Holly’s collapse after drinking the wine.

Coming up next: A two-part post looking at the best and worst things about Ian Martin’s episodes of Strange Paradise, followed by the Episode 45 review. I’ve been working hard on these and look forward to posting them within the next week.

{ <- Previous: Episode 43 || Next: Episode 45 -> }

Notes

[1] Sid Adilman, “TV’s Colin Fox and his Strange Paradise,” Toronto Telegram, November 29, 1969. I omitted part of this passage to avoid spoilers, but the omitted portion is also noteworthy in that it indicates that they had already begun filming Desmond Hall by November 1969.

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 4 years

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Chapter 22

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Anna walked into the bedroom with a letter. “Elsa says they’ll be returning in three days.”

“That will be nice,” Kristoff whispered as he stood by the window rocking the baby.

“She asks if the bishop will be available,” she commented wrinkling her nose, “that’s odd.”

“What? Inga was set against the…matchmaking.” Kristoff barely avoided raising his voice.

“Huh?” Anna looked confused. “No, no… Elizabeth’s family is returning with them, as well as that young man’s mother, you know, what’s his name? The one who works for Corona’s ambassador.”

“Oh,” Kristoff sighed in relief, bouncing a little more to settle the baby again. “That makes sense. You’ve had enough meetings now. What do you think of him?”

“I don’t know,” she mused. “He’s very professional, which means he hardly talks, since I’m meeting with the Ambassador. There’s something about him, though. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe I should have met him when he didn’t have so much work to do.”

Kristoff smiled. “He does take himself seriously. Perhaps we can convince the Ambassador to give him a week off and lend the cabin as something of a wedding present.”

“How will His Excellency manage?” Anna laughed.

***

Inga leaned out over the front of the ship, trying to take deep breaths. She could still feel the motion in spite of the ginger candy that Elizabeth’s mother had given her. It works wonders, she had assured Inga. It had helped her somewhat. She didn’t feel absolutely sick, as long as she didn’t try to actually do anything other than stare off into the distance. She saw something flutter in the corner of her vision.

“Aunt Elsa?” she asked without moving her head.

“Inga, how are you feeling?” her aunt answered, putting her hand on her shoulder.

“Better,” she mumbled. “Did you tell mother how miserable I’ve been?”

“I’ll let you do that yourself,” her aunt promised, “and if you’re fine here, I’ll leave you alone now.”

Inga nodded as her aunt left, and felt just well enough to sit on a bench along the wall behind her, and dozed in and out. She thought of the conversation with Henry, and how his father had stayed in Arendelle while his mother traveled with her mother and aunt. But why had she never heard about any of that before? It made no sense. It may not have been the most exciting of trips, but Henry’s father had found it worth sharing. Inga could hear the waves crashing, and occasionally hear people walking by, but wasn’t always sure if she was awake or asleep.

“...and you can return to Arendelle now,” Elsa was saying to someone as Inga began to be aware of her surroundings again.

“That’s true, I suppose. Are you sure no one would find it… odd?” Inga heard Mrs. Nilsen ask, but she wasn’t sure when she had joined her aunt up on the top deck.

“No, and I’ll make sure Kai is aware of it…” Elsa began to assure her as they walked away, their voices fading into the sound of the waves crashing.

Inga sat up slowly and watched the two walk around the back of the ship. She thought about finding Elizabeth and her sisters, but decided to close her eyes first, and quickly dozed off again.

***

Anna sat back and drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. She wasn’t sure her presence was actually needed at this meeting. She would sign off on continuing the ongoing relationship with the Corona Navy that they were currently discussing. She had given up on getting any update on the new succession bill, especially since now she was “out of danger,” as they liked to put it. She was sure that at some point in the next year or two one of the council members would propose a compromise measure of some sort that would satisfy no one completely but which she would end up signing for lack of any alternative.

Arrnedelle’s Fleet Admiral was standing at one end of the table emphasizing his argument. “I believe that we should phase out our payments to Corona, now that Arendelle’s navy is-”

“But, Admiral, with all due respect, Arendelle’s navy-” Corona’s ambassador began.

“Your Excellency,” Captain von der Decken interrupted, “I do believe that Arendelle's navy is no longer, as our own admiral had once impoliticly put it, hardly worthy of a coast guard. Please excuse me, Admiral, I mean no offense, but you know what I’m talking about.”

“No offense taken, Captain,” the Admiral replied. “I understand that Arendelle has relied on the Corona Navy for quite a while now, and we could make faster progress on Arendelle’s navy if we didn’t have to send so much money to Corona. There hasn’t been a direct attack on Arendelle for decades. Why are we still paying out pensions?”

“With all due respect, Admiral,” the Ambassador said, glancing between his secretary and the lieutenant who was taking notes for the Captain, “death in battle is not the only reason to pay out a pension.”

“Excuse me, Your Excellency, Admiral,” Anna spoke up, looking at her fleet admiral and the ambassador, “I was not aware we were paying pensions to Corona. Would one of you kindly explain the arrangement?”

“Your Majesty,” the Admiral spoke first, “your sister made the arrangement near the beginning of her reign. I believe it was for… delicate reasons, as you might understand.”

“I see,” Anna replied, instantly thinking of at least a dozen reasons her sister might have done this, none of which she wanted to bring up with so many people around. “In that case, we should honor prior agreements, but I believe there is no reason to agree to any new payments.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the Admiral nodded.

“Your Excellency,” Anna looked to the ambassador. “Do you have any objections to this?”

“No objections, Your Majesty,” the Ambassador conceded. His secretary shifted in his seat slightly, glancing at the Captain and lieutenant.

“Very well,” she told them. “If no one has any urgent business, I declare this meeting adjourned.”

The council nodded, and began to gather their things. Anna walked over to the men from Corona.

“Your Majesty!” the Ambassador exclaimed as he saw her approaching.

“Your Excellency,” she acknowledged, “I was actually hoping to speak with your secretary, briefly, although I suppose it affects you, too.”

“Your Majesty?” the young man asked, looking up from his scrawled papers.

“I see His Excellency didn’t pick you for your penmanship,” she smiled. The Lieutenant and captain both laughed loudly, startling Anna a bit. “Oh, yes, you’re his brother, aren’t you?” she asked, turning around.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Lieutenant replied. “And if this is related to what I think it's related to, the Captain here is probably also interested.”

“Oh?” she questioned. “I mean, of course. You’re Elizabeth’s father, aren’t you? I’ve been hearing nice things about her. My daughter Inga doesn’t… she doesn’t exactly make friends easily, so please take that as high praise.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the Captain smiled. “I understand that your sister will be returning with my wife and other daughters?”

“Yes, that is what she told me. And, of course, your daughter isn’t yet twenty-one, so she’ll need your approval, but my sister will also make sure all arrangements happen smoothly.”

“My wife and I both approve of the match,” the Captain agreed, then gesturing at Lars and the Lieutenant, “and I can’t imagine that their mother will find any objection, either.”

“Ah, of course,” she looked over to Lars. “I understand you’re not yet twenty-one, either?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Lars nodded.

She looked and saw the ambassador beginning to exit the room. “Your Excellency,” she called over, “one last thing, would you be willing to give the young man some time off?”

“Your Majesty?” the Ambassador asked in confusion. “Do you wish to deprive me of my private secretary?”

“Well, Your Excellency,” Anna addressed him, doing her best to remain serious, “it’s usually customary to give a couple some time to themselves when they get married.”

“Well, yes, but-”

“You see,” she interrupted him, “my husband would like to gift them a week in the cabin we own near here, for something of a honeymoon.”

“I see, Your Majesty. If His Highness wishes it, I will not object,” the Ambassador conceded.

Lars stood, astonished.

“If Mr. Nilsen doesn’t object,” Anna added.

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” he replied. “Thank you.”

“I’m not the one you should be thanking,” she smiled.

“Your Majesty,” the Ambassador interjected, “with all due respect, this will complicate my job during that time.”

“Mr. Meyer,” the Captain called to the Ambassador with a laugh, “I’d be willing to part with my lieutenant for a week. He doesn’t quite have the education of his brother, but you’ll have less eye strain from reading his notes.”

“There,” Anna spoke up, “I believe everything is settled now. I wish you all a good evening.”

***

Lars sat with his brother at Hudson’s Hearth, where they had met for dinner several times over the last few weeks.

“I hope you don’t mind working for the Ambassador for a week,” Lars laughed.

“Why, is there anything I need to worry about?” Karl asked him.

“Oh, not really,” Lars told him, “he’s not quite as pompous in person as he is at official functions. Watch what you say, though. He definitely fancies himself as some kind of schemer.”

“All he can learn from me is the workings of the Corona navy,” his brother scoffed. “And if he hasn’t learned anything about Arendelle from you, he’s certainly not going to learn anything from me.”

A young man brought them each a glass of beer. They quietly toasted before taking a drink.

“Do you remember any of Mother’s stories?” Lars asked. The question had been nagging at him since he’d first started talking to people around Arendelle.

“Nothing more than you remember. I told you in the letter after you wrote about it last month, and my answer isn’t going to change. And I don’t remember Father, either, since I’m sure that’s what you’ll ask next. After all, I wasn’t even a year old,” Karl sighed. “You know, of course, the most likely thing is that Mother and Father were rather ordinary and unknown.”

“And our father chose a good time to die, I suppose,” Lars smirked.

Karl raised an eyebrow. “That’s kind of dark even for you, Lars.” He took another swig of beer. “True, though.”

“You think I’m dark?” Lars prodded.

“Not with Mother, I know, and I’m pretty sure you don’t talk like that with Elizabeth,” his brother assured him. “Nothing wrong with a dark joke now and then, but that’s why I’m in the navy and you’re the diplomat: You know when a joke is in poor taste.”

They sat silently drinking their beers.

“So, Karl.” Lars broke their silence. “When are you getting married?”

“Who would I marry?” Karl smirked.

“Is there anyone?”

“Perhaps,” Karl winked. “I’m in a good position now. That’s one thing, really. It doesn’t matter if Mother and Father weren’t important. You and I have done well for ourselves. Life isn’t always like the novels Elizabeth has you reading. Some things aren’t actually that interesting.”

“You’re dodging my question, aren’t you?” Lars laughed.

“No, not really. Like I was saying, some things aren’t that interesting. I suppose I’ll be more like our father, and wait a little longer to find someone to settle down with. We can’t all be hopeless romantics, you know.”

***

The ship arrived in Arendelle that Monday morning, right on schedule. Inga was once again eager to get back on dry land, and wasn’t sure she ever wanted to return to sea. Frederick still loved everything about sailing, and was itching to get back to it as soon as he could find an excuse.

The entire Royal Family was waiting when they got off the ship. There was some noisy confusion as no one could decide who to run up and hug first. Questions and declarations were shouted over one another, and no one could quite remember what had been asked and answered. The trunks were carried off the ship to the castle, and the family slowly made their way back.

Elizabeth’s family reunited more quietly. Her father walked over from his ship, and made sure to send Lieutenant Nilsen to fetch his brother away from the ambassador so that Mrs. Nilsen could see both of her sons at once.

Mrs. Nilsen was overwhelmed to see them when they arrived at the harbor. It had been entirely too long since she had seen Karl, and she wasn’t used to going so long without seeing Lars. She remarked on how much had changed since her days there. Elizabeth’s mother and sisters had followed their father on a tour of the town, but Elizabeth stayed back.

“Mrs. Nilsen,” Elizabeth prompted, “where did you live before you left Arendelle? Lars and Karl have no idea.”

“Oh,” she hesitated. “It wasn’t much. So much has changed, I don’t know if I’d even recognize it.”

“But surely you remember where it was!” Elizabeth insisted, “And it couldn’t have been far. They said you lived in town. Maybe you can show us? Lars, wouldn’t you like to see?”

Lars looked at Elizabeth, then at Mrs. Nilsen. “Yes, I’ve been using some of my free time walking around trying to guess. I’ve gotten Karl into it, too.”

“If everyone else wants to, I’ll come along,” his brother declared.

“Very well, my dears,” she sighed, “it was this way.”

Lars and Karl looked at each other and turned and followed their mother as she walked along the harbor to a row of low doors. They were brightly painted, and there were planters with bright summer flowers separating the homes from the street.

“It’s this one,” Mrs. Nilsen gestured at the third door in. “It hadn’t been painted in several years when we lived there, and the entire street was less… decorated.”

“It looks quite cozy,” Elizabeth offered, trying to think of something positive to say.

“It was,” Mrs. Nilsen smiled, then looked distracted. “Of course, once Jan died, even keeping up a place this small was going to be a stretch.”

“Were you not always sure of having the pension?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh, of course, once the pension was secured…” she trailed off. After a moment, she perked up. “Karl, perhaps we should let these two catch up a bit more?” She took Karl’s arm, and directed him to walk with her along the harbor, leaving Lars and Elizabeth alone.

“She still gets sad about that, doesn’t she?” Elizabeth mused.

“It was difficult,” Lars speculated as they walked the opposite direction. “That was really more than she’s said in, well, probably twenty years.”

“I thought she talked about the past with you,” Elizabeth spoke, thinking out loud more than anything.

“She’d tell stories and sometimes sing songs, but not much about day to day life.”

They walked quietly, arm in arm, back toward the castle. Elizabeth noticed a bright red leaf on one of the trees.

"I don't think I've seen the leaves change this early in Corona," she remarked as they crossed to the castle.

"If you look up in the mountains, you can see a lot more," he commented.

"We'll have to try to get up there before it's too cold, if you have time," she smiled.

"Actually," he blushed, "I'm going to get an entire week off after the wedding, and we get to stay in the royal family's cabin."

"We… just… you and me?"

“Who else do you want on our honeymoon?” he laughed, kissing her forehead.

***

Inga sat on the bench in the garden, with Sofia and Marie crowding her. Sofia asked most of the questions, but Marie was listening intently, fascinated by everything. Sofia was determined to have her older sister show them every new item of clothing, but for now, Inga was more than happy to enjoy the garden, especially when the weather wouldn’t allow it for much longer.

Frederick was with Peder and Anton at their favorite climbing tree actively miming the sailing techniques he had learned on the trip. Inga watched with interest, not having been able to enjoy the actual thing.

“The Bishop wants to meet with them tomorrow,” Inga heard her mother say. “Isabel is marrying the Captain of the Guard in a few days, so the Bishop’s schedule is a bit busy.”

“And don’t forget Peder and Anton’s birthday party on Saturday. They were telling me all about it,” Inga piped in.

“Oh, I suppose so,” her mother replied. “But that’s not the Bishop’s concern.”

“And I suppose they’re not going to schedule the wedding quite that soon,” Inga allowed.

***

The next morning, the Bishop had his meeting with Lars and Elizabeth, along with Mrs. Nilsen and Captain and Mrs. von der Decken. If their parents had any concerns, they didn’t express them. Since both were underage, not yet being twenty-one, they would need their parents' consent, but the Bishop was satisfied and the wedding was scheduled for the following week on Tuesday.

Outside, Inga was responsible for introducing Elizabeth’s sisters to the General and Halima’s wards. They began talking with each other almost instantly, except for Meibel, who was busy listening to Frederick’s stories of their trip, which seemed to focus almost exclusively on sailing. The older girls made sure that they would all be at each wedding the coming week, and Elizabeth’s sisters agreed to come to the twins’ birthday party, since Isabel, Kate, and Edith wanted some company, and it would be something to do in between the weddings.

“So, Inga,” Diana spoke up, touching Inga’s arm, nearly startling her. “When can we expect your wedding?”

“Huh?” Inga blinked in surprise. “I have no idea what-”

“What’s this?” Edith interrupted excitedly.

“No, no…” Inga protested.

“Well, Edith,” Diana explained, “from what I heard-”

“What did Elizabeth tell you?” Inga cut in.

“Oh, we couldn’t get anything out of our sister,” Ruth laughed, “but practically everyone else was talking about Prince Henry sneaking off during the ball with the princess from Arendelle.”

Inga felt herself turning red. She racked her brain trying to remember if there had been anything besides going out on the balcony that anyone might comment on. Would they even say anything to her face? She knew that trying to deny anything or explain what actually happened would only make things worse.

“If there’s any news, I’m sure you’ll hear it before I do,” she snapped.

She turned away in a huff, looking absentmindedly toward the castle gate. It was a relief to know Elizabeth hadn’t gone spreading rumors. She didn’t think her friend would be the sort to spread stories.

As she stared in the distance, Inga caught herself wondering when she would get a reply to her letter, and silently scolded herself. It wasn’t like that, she reminded herself. She wrote the letter to him because there were things they could learn from each other. She didn’t need to worry herself. People concocted stories out of thin air all the time.

#my fic #kristanna #frozen fic #frozen fanfiction

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