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akaashisupremacy · 4 years

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A Little in Love

Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with him, your relationship is in shreds. As you and Gojo begin as friends again, he wonders if he ever fell out of love for you. Has he?

Notes: Gojo Satoru is good-looking, all powerful and beyond good at his job. I’ve always wanted to explore something he struggles with

Gojo Satoru x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: ANGST AND PINING, exes to friends to ??, commitment issues lol (wc: 1.3k) tw: mention of blood, infedelity-ish

“Are you sure you’re not in love with them?”

That question wipes the smile off Gojo Satorou’s face.

Tonight’s dinner was unexpected. You ran into Shoko Ieri, Jujutsu Kaisen’s resident doctor and Gojo Satoru just as your work day ended. One thing led to another and the three of you ended up in a soba place not too far from Jujutsu Tech. When you excused yourself to use the washroom Ieri-san grabs the chance to ask the burning question on her mind.

“So what’s the answer? You’re awfully quiet.”

“We’re not engaged anymore. That ship has sailed.” he waves his hand dismissively.

Ieri rolls her eyes. All throughout dinner, Gojo was teasing you, offering you food, playing light pranks at you just like he was when you were teenagers. The way he looked at you was enough to tick any off about how he feels.

She retorts, “You can try again now that you’re adults. You’re allowed to make a go at a love match.”

Gojo’s relationship with you is…complicated. You two were arranged to be married when you were children, but had broken up as teenagers.

Gojo looks contemplative, his hands clasped together.

“I’ve thought about it.” he sighs, “And I think about it every time we meet, but—I don’t think I’m the type to commit and they need a commitment type. It’s not a match.” Ieri scowls on your behalf.

During your time at Jujutsu Tech, he simultaneously wanted to give your relationship a shot but hated the restrictions set on him. In the end, it was all too much. Both of you begged your families to break off the engagement.

Your teenage years with him were confusing. Were you really in love or those feelings fabricated by the arranged marriage? If the marriage wasn’t a love match anyway, why did it hurt to see Gojo flirt with someone else?

Gojo remembered one of your early confrontations when you were 16 and he was 17.

“It’s difficult to be engaged to you.” you expressed, exasperated.

When you started school at Jujutsu Tech however, something changed. Gojo didn’t want to be seen around you. He was always flirting with others behind your back. You can’t even have a proper conversation with him alone.

During your second year, you finally stood up to him.

“No, it’s not.” he rolled his eyes, “You don’t even have to pretend that you like me.”

It worried you that he definitely couldn’t be faithful and it hurt you that he couldn’t even spare time to properly talk with you.

You sighed and looked left and right. It’s had been ten minutes. You were still standing outside his dorm room and he has not intention of letting you in.

“It’s not about that!” you exclaimed, annoyed, “I know you don’t like being engaged to me, which is fine—“

“It doesn’t sound fine,” he snorts, crossing his arms. He tries to drown the sound of your voice from the surrounding cicadas.

“—if you weren’t such an asshole,” you continued, “But can you at least treat me with more respect. Everybody knows we’re engaged. Neither of us want to be in arranged marriage so all I’m begging you to do is to —“

He shrugs, “No promises.”

He could see anger light beneath your eyes. Out of the darkness of the night, a silver flicker brushes by his side. You were seething, despite being barely illuminated by the light of the corridor bulbs.

You had drawn out a dagger at him. You! His kind, patient fiancee. It happened so fast he almost didn’t dodge.

“I missed on purpose. Don’t you get complacent.” you muttered, turning away.

Gojo was surprised to see tears running down your face. You’ve never looked so upset. It catches him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” was all he had to utter. He wasn’t even sure you heard him because you had already begun walking away. You had drawn the blade, but in reality it was you that was hurting and he the trespasser.

He shakes his head at Ieri and continues, “I don’t want to hurt them again. It was bad enough when our engagement fell apart.”

He didn’t mean to hurt you then of course. It was harsh to expect commitment out of a teenager who wasn’t ready, but you were still in pain.

Ieri sizes him up in the dim lighting of the diner. Gojo likes to be in control. He likes to be the one to set traps. It’s interesting to see him be the captive for once.

“You haven’t answered my question.” she presses.

Gojo’s fingers tense up.he gives in just a bit, “I’ll always be a little in love with them. Maybe because I was obligated to for so long.”

“And that’s not enough though, because they deserve more” he quickly adds.

“Can’t you change? Sounds like you’re afraid to try.” she sighs.

Gojo is quiet once again.

“Don’t wait for them to be in love with someone else before you realize that you want to be with them. I’d hate for you to be too late.” she warns, glancing towards you as you walk back to the table.

He looks away from Ieri. You sit back down in front of him.

He feels his heart swell and hurt at the same time. You’ve always represented a jumble of contradictions for him: someone to love and someone who represents traditions he hates.

“Did I miss something?” you ask, sensing the tension.

“No, nothing.” he denies, his voice purposely lightening to cover his mood.

“Well, why does everyone look so serious?” you perkily ask.

Gojo briefly glances at you. His shoulders relax and he sits back into his seat. After all these years, it’s still so easy to be swayed by your bright eyes.

“I was just about to call for another drink.” Ieri clears her throat.

“Me, too.” he adds.

You look at him carefully, a tinge of worry in your eyes. You don’t say anything though. Not now. This is between you and him. It’s a matter outside of your friendship with Ieri.

“You can have my drink.” you offer to him, eyes locked onto his.

Sensing your stare, he turns back at you, glad that his bandages cover his vulnerability. He’s not sure he can take it if you saw how deeply conflicted he was about his feelings. As he continues to look, recognition dawns on him.

In another universe, you could be married right now. You’d be having dinner, just the two of you, sitting across each other like this. In another world, maybe you wouldn’t have known each other at all. This moment feels like purgatory. He’s somewhat in love, just a little and you’re not his in a way that feels real.

You push your drink into his hands. Ieri looks away to give you a semblance of privacy. Gojo finally takes the drink.

It feels strange for the man who has everything, to know he only has a little bit of you.

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General taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan@kaizumi@holaaaf@glxar@francxsca

Series Taglist: @kageyamakock @gucci-froggy @cherryonigiri

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check it here. This is 2/4 so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the rest of the releases! 😊

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo angst #jjk angst #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines

437 notes · View notes

solastia · 3 years

Text

Say You Won’t Let Go | 5

Pairing: Namjoon x Jimin x Seokjin

Word Count: 6,721

Warnings: Violence, referenced omega abuse, minor character death

Author Note: My lack of battle knowledge shows, I'm afraid. I kinda rushed through it because I couldn't figure out how to make it sound interesting lmao. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter of a story that is taking way too long to write! I'll try to get the next one out faster, especially since I know y'all just want to see what goes down during Jimin's heat.

PLEASE don't fill up my comments with nothing but, "OH MY GOD YOU UPDATED!" Y'all guilt trip me worse than my mama

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

A light mist showered over the training grounds, making the ground beneath them soggy. He knew if anyone would slip in the mud it would be him, so he watched the ground with careful eyes as he walked around assessing his troop’s progress.

Namjoon cracked his neck as he silently watched his villagers learning to defend themselves. He knew that if this really turned into a war they would be at a disadvantage, as they’d admittedly gone a bit soft. It had been nearly a hundred years since the last big tribe war, and they’d focused on advancing their village rather than fighting for more land.

He turned towards the direction that would take him home, sniffing in vain for some hint of his mate. He knew he wouldn’t be able to smell him this far away, but it didn’t stop him from wishing.

When his thoughts weren’t taken over by worries, they were occupied by thoughts of his sweet little mate. His Jimin, who was no doubt at home going crazy with worry and stress. He had no doubt that Jimin would do his best to protect their people, he just hoped someone was looking out for him. He’d try to do everything himself if someone didn’t force him to delegate.

He probably should have made some sort of arrangements for Seokjin as well, he thought sheepishly. He hoped the man would be doing alright in a village where he knew literally no one. He was also relieved when he realized his thoughts of the man no longer felt influenced by alpha instincts or needs of any kind. His claim was settled and he was free to consider the man with a rational frame of mind.

Truthfully, there was nothing much for him to consider. The omega seemed nice enough, and sure he was attractive, but Namjoon felt nothing when he tried to picture the man naked to assess his reaction. Well, nothing beyond the guilt that he felt knowing what another omega looked like underneath him. He’d always been a one-person man and it just wasn’t in him to consider even trying to force himself to think of Seokjin romantically. Friends, maybe. Sure.

Besides, his Jiminie was a needy little thing and wrung every drop of affection that was in Namjoon to give.

He smiled again, his thoughts once more on his mate. How he adored the man. He had been perfectly content to live out his days without pups and pass on his title to one of his nephews. Sadly, it appeared as though his mate had been correct in thinking that their childless state posed a challenge that others couldn’t pass up.

Theirs was a fertile land that they’d been cultivating for several generations now. It was almost unheard of for packs to truly settle in one spot, but they had been lucky enough to find such a lush land to call their own. Good soil, healthy and plentiful game, clean rivers and lakes - even their huge mountain was worthy of envy, as it provided so much protection and resources. The friendly human village that was always happy to trade with them was something to go to war for all by itself.

He sighed and turned his attention back to his men, observing their progress. Yoongi was a brutal trainer - merciless and always seeking perfection. Normally, he wouldn’t have given him such free reign but he’d decided that his right hand’s brand of tough love was what they needed the most at the moment. They didn’t have the luxury of time.

He’d sent a messenger to the Kim’s tribe, figuring him marrying into them should provide reason enough for them to send him more warriors. He had no faith that a message to get there and forces sent in enough time to help them with a battle if it came to that - it was rather a backup plan. In case they should fall, perhaps the sent warriors could at the very least save the pack they’d left behind.

The sound of feet running through puddles reached his ear and he swirled around to catch one of his scouts rushing towards him. The man was running so fast he couldn’t stop in time to prevent him from slipping into the damp ground. Namjoon reached out a hand and hauled the man up, narrowing his eyes as they met the frantic ones of his best scout.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“They’re here!” The man panted. “They didn’t go through the western forest as we thought. We suspect they went downriver instead. They’re already here, Alpha.”

Namjoons’ heart dropped right to his stomach. They weren’t ready. They weren’t…

Gentle hands pried his fingers from his hair and Yoongi’s sharp eyes bored into him. “Joon?”

“They’re already here. They’re…” He turned to his scout. “Where exactly are they, Yuen?”

“I spotted them setting up camp next to the cliffs.”

“Shit,” Yoongi hissed. “That’s only a twenty-minute walk from here.”

Namjoon hung his head, reaching up to rub his suddenly aching eyes.

“We have no choice but to be ready. Yoongi, Round up the men. Collect three of your best to be added to our personal party. We move out the moment you’re ready.”

Yoongi nods briskly and turns to roar orders. Namjoon spots Jungkook and waves him over. The younger alpha jogs to him and Namjoon grabs his shoulders.

“You are not going to like this, but…”

Jungkook interrupts him, “I’m not staying behind.”

“You are ,” he nods firmly, Jungkook’s mouth opening again to argue. He shakes his head, effectively shutting him up.

“I’m not going to make you stay right here, just in the back of the men. If things go south, I need you to be ready to run back to the village immediately. I’m not saying this because you’re weak - in fact, if I could I would have you up there with me and Yoongi because you’re better than both of us. It’s because I trust that you would be able to reach the village before any of our enemies could get there and save our people. Save our mates.”

Jungkook bows his head and softly asks, “You really think it’s going to go that way?”

Namjoon shrugs. “Dunno, Gukkie. I’ve certainly never dealt with this any more than the rest of us have. I just figured our best chance of survival is to expect the worst and hope for the best.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll stay back there?”

Jungkook nods then shakes his overly long hair with a grin. “Besides, your other option is probably Yoongi and it would take him two years to power walk back to the village.”

“Brat,” Namjoon chuckles fondly, pushing the man away from him. “Help him get everyone going.”

Jungkook nods and runs off, plowing into Yoongi’s back instead of stopping properly. Namjoon shakes his head and turns to sniff the air again in vain. He missed Jimin fiercely.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Once assembled, their party made good time reaching the cliffs. Namjoon decided their best course of action was to simply walk up to the outsider’s camp and demand answers. In fact, their leader most likely expected that since Namjoon would be well within his rights to do so. They were “visitors” on his land, after all.

Once their camp came into view, Namjoon paled, momentarily stunned. They had brought so many warriors, all of them painted and well-armed. This was definitely no negotiation party.

He forced himself to calm and pulled his shoulders back, bringing himself to full height and allowing his scent to permeate the air around him until even his own men were gritting their teeth against the blatant demand for submission. He gathered Yoongi and several of the warriors that he’d picked to surround him and strode forward.

He noticed several scouts and lookouts stand to attention but they made no move to stop him, nor to run back to their camp to inform their leader. Either they were in too much shock or…

“Ah, there you are, pup.”

A man stood in the center of their camp surrounded by several burly warriors with axes strapped to their backs. The man himself was armed with a massive club strapped to his hip and a bow on his back. He was stocky, not in very good shape, and was probably around the same age as his father. His scent indicated he was Pack Alpha, but it was sour, tinged with age and some sickness underneath.

“You are the Yang Alpha, I presume,” he inquired with as much politeness as he could manage.

“Indeed, my boy. Come join me by the fire. I’ve come for a little…chat.”

“You will speak to him with respect,” Yoongi growled, his hand tightening on a dagger strapped to his thigh.

The Yang Alpha chuckled, waving them forward. “What a loyal little beta you have there.”

Namjoon simply nodded and waved Yoongi down. He could tell what sort of man this was already. Nothing he said was going to have much of a difference. He already thought he was superior to them simply because of his age - and perhaps his warriors who have no doubt seen many battles.

He followed behind the Yang guards as they led them to their central fire and sat on the offered log. Yoongi stayed standing at his right and his other guards gathered behind him.

The Alpha proceeds to act like they weren’t even there, picking up his meal that he must have set aside earlier and tearing into a chicken leg. Namjoon startles at that for a moment, trying not to let his worry show. Unless this man’s war party traveled with a bunch of chickens, they had been in Namjoon’s village. Someone had snuck in and spied on them, and now he was eating the stolen chicken right in front of him like a taunt.

Namjoon clears his throat, willing his body to appear unbothered.

“I’m sure you are aware of why I’m here. State your business on my lands.”

The Alpha belches and licks his fingers clean, smacking his lips with satisfaction. He tosses the bone into the fire and only then does he see fit to look at Namjoon in the eyes.

He raises an eyebrow, his lips curling in a mocking smile.

“Ah, pup. No need for aggression. I’m simply here to look out for my neighbors,” the man shrugs nonchalantly. “I’d heard of your… troubles even across in my land so I thought I should come and lend a hand.”

“And what kind of hand do you think we need?” Namjoon asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

“Ah, well. At first, I thought I’d give you one of my daughters. I have far too many of them anyway and their mothers were all certainly fertile as rabbits,” he smacks his tongue against his teeth and sighs. “Then I got a real good look at this land. Fertile soil, steady water supply, a village full of hard little workers.”

Namjoon’s jaw clenches as he waits for the inevitable. “Uh-huh…”

The alpha shrugs again and drawls, “And then I thought the best hand I could lend is my own. You’re a young pup and I’m sure you’re trying your best, but with a land like this to protect and your line unsecured, well…” he waves around. “Half of these warriors are my own sons. My line will be secure for hundreds of years. Figured I’d do your people a favor.”

Namjoon grits his teeth, wiling his alpha down. He desperately wanted to just lunge and tear the man’s throat out, but he knew he needed to be smarter than that.

The other Alpha snaps his fingers and bellows for wine. A moment later the scent of omega hit Namjoon’s unsuspecting nose. Why would the man have omegas in his war party?

The omega was male and jogged towards the Alpha with a full cup of sour-scented wine, and somehow doesn’t trip despite his eyes never leaving the ground beneath him. Namjoon felt his anger somehow grow further when he took in the state of the omega - the way his ribs poked out as though it had been far too long since he’d seen a good meal, the bruises that mottled his skin from head to toe, the state of his wrapping that barely covered him and was hardly in good enough shape to be considered a cleaning rag. The omegas scent was muted, as though the body was trying its best to protect itself. However, it was still enough for Namjoon to catch the hint of bright citrus hiding behind the muted emotions. He’s never seen an omega treated in such a way. They were to be protected and cherished, not treated as though they were even lower than the chubby dogs sitting on either side of the Alpha leader.

Suddenly, he noticed that Yoongi had gone deathly still at his side and he glanced up, noting the stricken expression on his second’s face. He knew full well that Yoongi hid a bleeding heart underneath all his gruffness, but he didn’t think this was what that was. Yoongi began to growl and he watched in disbelief as the omega’s nose twitched and he slowly glanced up to stare at Yoongi in wonder.

“I see your beta has his eye on my bitch. Reaching a bit far there, eh? Even a male omega is too high above a beta ,” he laughed cruelly, spitting out the designation like a slur.

Namjoon observed the pair curiously then turned back to the alpha. He figured his best bet for getting out of here safely was to distract the man from what he thought was happening.

“What are your terms for leaving without a fight?”

The man guffawed, a bit of spittle flying in the air. “No fight? Impossible, my boy. Unless you were willing to sit there and let me end you here and now, of course.”

Yoongi managed to tear his gaze from the omega long enough to growl at the man. The alpha simply sneers and grabs the omega by his hair and tugs him down to his knees in front of him. He runs his hands through the tangled auburn locks, silently mocking Yoongi.

“What, have you imprinted on him? Is he your precious little mate? Too bad. He’s mine. In fact, I’ve been thinking about breeding him since my last bitch is about to burst. Gotta give the new pup a friend, eh?”

Yoongi’s hand tightened around his dagger and pulled it halfway out of its sheath before Namjoon was able to place a restraining hand on his arm. He shakes his head and Yoongi lowers his hand, near-silent growls vibrating his whole body.

“I can see that there is no peaceful solution to be had with you, therefore I’m issuing you an official challenge. I will give you this evening to pack up and leave. If not, we will meet you at dawn and it will be a fight.”

Namjoon stood and placed a comforting hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, squeezing gently to urge him to fight his instincts. The man may have been a beta, but he was more alpha than many born to it.

He observed helplessly as the omega watched them leave, first soft whimpers then omega keening the further they got. The sound broke even his heart - he could only imagine how Yoongi felt.

They left the camp with Yoongi ahead of him and guards surrounding them both. He stared at his best friends overly straight back as he marched forward - no sign of the normal casual slouch that he was practically known for.

“Hyung, I doubt they are going to leave. There’s going to be a battle and I promise you that we’ll get him out. Do you trust me?”

Yoongi’s shoulders release the tiniest bit of tension, though not enough. “I hear you, Joon. I just…I can’t believe I finally found them. I found my mate and they…Joon. Did you fucking see him? He’s so beautiful but they…they hurt him. And he’s so scared. I’m a fucking beta and I could smell how terrified he was, that’s how bad it was. Who does that to an omega? A fucking monster, that’s who. You shoulda let me gut him, Joon. I coulda fixed it all right there.”

“And then his entire war party would have descended on us immediately and we would have been wiped out.”

Yoongi grunts and hangs his head.

“Hey, Joon?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you scent him?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, it was a bit muted cuz he’s been traumatized I think. Can happen when a body is trying to protect it…but underneath it all, he kinda smelled like those oranges you always carry in your pockets.”

Yoongi snapped his head up to stare at him in wonder. “Really?”

“Yeah. If I can smell it that well even though his body is trying to mute it, it’s probably going to be strong enough for even you to scent when we get him well again.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi was smiling like a dope, and Namjoon chuckled silently. It was a new look for his friend but it suited him. Yoongi finally finding his mate was at least one good thing to come out of all this madness. The man had long ago resigned himself to living without one despite everyone assuring him that it would happen eventually.

Namjoon sighed and watched the sun lower itself on the horizon. The symphony of oranges, reds and blues usually brought a smile to his lips, but this night it merely made him anxious.

“Yoongi, make sure every man we have is alert tonight. Lookouts especially, but I don’t think anyone should sleep tonight.”

“You think they are bastards enough to attack in the middle of the night…” he pauses and curses, answering his own question. “Of course they are. I’ll let everyone know.”

Namjoon nods and faces the horizon again.

They’d make it through this - they had to.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

They’d put out the fires hours ago and simply waited. Many of the men that weren’t as proficient with weapons had shifted already, preferring to rely on their wolves in battle instead. Namjoon had chosen not to. He wanted to be standing tall and meet the old bastard face to face when he cut him down for threatening his people and upsetting his mate. Because of pathetic Alphas like this one, his mate had felt worthless enough to demand they add another to their home - to his bed - just to protect their village. He was furious that Jimin had been proven right.

Yoongi silently stalked towards the large rock that Namjoon perched on, his black form blending into the dark of the night perfectly. He jumped up and settled next to him, his ears standing tall and following every sound. He slightly bumped against Namjoon, a familiar motion that made him sigh.

“I’m good, just...angry. We haven’t bothered anyone in at least a hundred years. We have no desire to go around stealing land and killing people. Yet, just because we haven’t been able to have a pup we are suddenly deemed weak and unworthy? It’s so old-fashioned and just...barbaric. Because of this way of thinking I had to hurt three people - myself fucking included - by adding another person to my marriage just for his potential ability to breed. What happens if he can’t have pups either? What the hell am I expected to do then?”

His breathing is growing more erratic the more upset he gets and he clenches his fists tightening, whispering all of his hurts into the night.

“I...Yoongi...this has been so hard for me too. I know that everyone feels bad for Jimin and like, he’s been trying to keep it together in front of me, but I’m hurting too. I’ve never wanted anyone besides him. I’ve known since I was a kid that he was the love of my life. And like, every time we got pregnant I was both elated and terrified because it hurt me to lose the pups....but I was always afraid of losing him more. It just got worse and worse every time he lost them. That last time when I got home...he was laying on the ground surrounded by blood...I thought that was it. And if he died, I would follow him, Yoongi. Pack or not.”

The beta whines quietly and rubs his nose against Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Having Seokjin around is hard now, too. I’d forgotten about how strong the alpha instinct is to mark when you complete the ceremony. I had this idea that I’d...I don’t know. Hand him a cup full of jizz or something and let him take it from there,” he laughs self-deprecatingly. “I don’t feel anything for him besides curiosity and I hope that we’ll be able to be friends at least. I just...I feel so bad and guilty. And I just…” Namjoon sniffled and wiped at his dampening eyes. “I don’t even know if I’m making sense right now, hyung. Everything is so scrambled up there and now I have this...fucking war shit. I’m tired and I just want to go home and nest with Jimin.”

A tiny lick on Namjoon’s cheek was his only answer, but it was enough for now. He laughs softly, wiping another stray tear.

“Thanks, Yoon. Love you too.”

He sighs and leans back, staring up at the stars above him. He really was emotionally exhausted. When all of this was over - if he even survived it - he was making his father take over for a while while he took a nice vacation. He decided the least his village could do for him after everything he’d sacrificed recently was not bother him while he got his life with his mate back on track.

Yoongi suddenly stiffened next to him, bringing him to attention. He heard it next - a rustle of leaves and the occasional crunch of someone stepping on an acorn or some other debris.

They were here.

He could see them now, the red and gold eyes of the shifted warriors stalking through the trees. He sniffed the air, waiting for the leader to make himself known. Even as his own men threw themselves in front of him, effectively blocking any foolish enough to attack him directly, he waited…and waited.

He wasn’t showing up.

Namjoon lowly growled at the cowardice of the man. He was brave enough to trek across the land and try to steal from his pack, but fighting his own battles was asking far too much, apparently.

At his signal, his men leap forward and attacked the foreign warriors. There was no need for frills and banners - he simply wanted them gone. Yoongi was still sticking close to him, but his nose too was searching the air for the absent leader.

Namjoon bellowed his rage as he watched some of his people fall, the enemy ruthless with their kills. Hundreds of warriors fought in the makeshift battlefield, the ferocious growls and pained cries imprinting themselves into Namjoon’s nightmares for years to come. Jungkook was thankfully following instructions and staying as far from the front line as possible, but still managed to make a few kills. Trusting that the boy was safe for now, he throws himself further into the fray, his skills with a sword untried and rusty but enough to fight off shifted warriors for now.

Suddenly, Yoongi howls and leaps away from him, running forward at a speed that Namjoon didn’t even know he had in him. He cursed and shifted to follow behind, fearing that Yoongi had seen Jungkook in trouble or something equally horrifying. His confusion grew as Yoongi sailed right past the battlefield and kept going towards the enemy camp. He tried to bark orders to stop so he could get an explanation, but Yoongi either didn’t hear him or refused to obey because he only went impossibly faster, his sleeker form streaking through the trees and making it difficult for Namjoon’s wolf to keep up. While he was the biggest wolf the village had seen in years, he lacked any sort of agileness or grace. Usually, it wasn’t that much of a problem, but Yoongi charging into an enemy camp without backup would be.

When the cliffside camp finally came into view, Yoongi went charging past the guards and Namjoon was still a few leagues behind, having already tripped three times and leaving dirt and twigs clinging to his platinum-hued fur.

Nearly panting with effort, he too ignored the threats of the guards and trotted to where Yoongi stood growling at the Yang Alpha. The man had the omega they’d seen earlier held to the dirt-packed ground with a foot on his back, the rotting wrap that had been his only piece of clothing nowhere to be seen. There was a group of leering men standing around in a circle around the scene like it was simply entertainment. The rest of the pack continued with their duties all around the camp like this was a usual occurrence. Namjoon averted his eyes to give the omega some respect, keeping them glued to the offending alpha instead as he and Yoongi slowly shifted forms.

He unfurled and looked down his nose at the flabby alpha, towering over the now raging man. His fetid breath swirled in the air as he cursed Namjoon and Yoongi for their interruption.

Namjoon rumbled and stalked closer, uncaring of his nakedness as he postured. He had nothing to be ashamed of after all - especially next to this failure of a man. This man who bullied and abused omegas, who attacked peaceful packs unprovoked, who didn’t even have the balls to join the fight he had started.

“I was waiting for you, Yang. You were nowhere to be found. You aren’t backing out, are you?” Namjoon asked in a mocking tone, drawing the alpha’s attention to him and away from the beta who was now guarding the omega from view.

“Hardly,” the old man guffawed, vile spittle flying. “I thought instead it would be amusing to breed my bitch while his mate was being gutted. Poetic.”

Namjoon felt his growl rise to the surface like molten lava. “Instead, you are going to die.”

“Sorry, pup. Not this day.”

The old alpha waved at the group of warriors that had been standing around like spectators and they quickly shoved the man behind them and faced Namjoon.

There was nothing pretty about the way he fought his way through them. He simply forced his way through to the alpha with a brutal viciousness he didn’t even know he possessed. Two of the men were bashed together with so much force he was almost certain he broke them. Several others were shredded with half-extended claws and his canines. Before he knew it the ground around him was littered with bodies and only one remained between him and his prey.

“Please,” the man - no, he was practically a boy. No more than fifteen he thought. “He told me to watch. I didn’t want to. I didn’t even want to come here. He’s…”

“Shut up, you sniveling whelp,” the alpha grunted and shoved a dagger into the boy’s heart from behind.

Namjoon reached forward and caught the boy as he fell, staring into the bewildered eyes of the youth as he died in his arms. He lay him gently on the ground next to the other men and stared at the alpha with disgust.

“He was your own son , you monster!”

Namjoon’s eyes whirled to meet the hate-filled ones of the omega, who was now free of his bindings and glaring at the Yang alpha like he was a maggot he’d just found in his meal.

“He was weak,” the Yang alpha grunted derisively. “Was always telling me he didn’t want to fight or breed. Useless whelp wanted to be a healer like his bitch of a mother.”

The man seemed to suddenly realize he was out of shields when he peeked over at Namjoon then ran straight for the omega. Yoongi had begun to leap forward to block him, instead, the omega pushed him away and let the alpha grab him.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi’s voice was filled with hurt and confusion, and Namjoon didn’t blame him one bit. They were trying to save him - save everyone. Why would he let the crazed alpha have him?

“It’s alright. I belong to him. Don’t I, alpha?” the omega crooned, his voice like liquid honey.

“That’s right. You and everything we see are mine. It’s all mine,” the alpha nearly whispers as he pulls the omega’s back to his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Namjoon could see it now. The madness lurking behind the alpha’s near-crazed frantic eyes. There was something wrong with the man, and he suddenly remembers the sour scent when he’d first met him.

The omega releases a loud purr and allows the alpha to bury his face into the crook of his neck, his scent suddenly pouring out as if he’d just popped off the cap. Namjoon observes with trepidation as the omega seems to be slowly making the Yang alpha walk backward, his eyes locked with Yoongi’s as he allows his scent to fill the air for the first time in what must have been years.

“Omega, what are you doing?” Yoongi asks pleadingly, his hands out towards the man even as tears begin to fall from his eyes. Namjoon knows his friend must be overwhelmed right now - he was just able to fully scent his mate for the first time, as well as any alpha or omega would have.

“It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay,” he croons soothingly, petting the alpha still buried against his neck. “I’m going to make it all better.”

Namjoon has a horrible feeling in his gut as he finally notices how close they are getting to the edge of the cliff. There was nothing on the other side but a rocky ravine and if they should fall…

“Omega, come to me now,” he growled, trying to infuse as much alpha voice as he could into the command.

The man’s eyes glazed over slightly, but he squared his shoulders and shook his head. Namjoon was amazed at the man’s strength.

“I’m going to end this now.”

The omega suddenly turned in the alpha’s grip and placed both of his hands on the man’s chest.

“This is for my mother, for me, and for every other life you’ve terrorized.”

With a firm push, he sends the alpha tumbling off the cliff edge. The garbled yell as the scent-drunk man finally realizes what is happening to him reaches their ears, but neither Namjoon nor Yoongi go to watch the scene. Namjoon certainly didn’t want to have that image in his mind. The omega, however, stands there staring in silence, until a final thud signals the alpha’s fate.

He turns and faces the remaining members of the Yang pack as they all stare with expressions varying between horror and satisfaction.

“According to your own rules that state anyone who defeats pack alpha takes control, I am now leader of the pack. My first and only orders will be that anyone who wishes to leave the pack may do so now without fear of retribution. Everyone else will go back to the main village and stay there, never to come this way again. And finally, I am stepping down as leader immediately and leaving it to Kwon Jiyong.”

A quiet mild-smelling alpha that Namjoon had hardly noticed before glanced up sharply at the claim.

“Me?”

“Yes,” the omega nodded decisively. “You are one of the few that actually treats everyone well and has been strong against the corruption of this pack. You did what you could to help even when you were one man against hundreds. I don’t know how many times you’ve tended my wounds when alpha said to let them fester or snuck us food when we were being punished yet again. No one else here is more worthy of the title than you.”

“I…” the alpha gulped, staring nervously at all the gazes now on him. “I’ll do my best.”

The omega nodded and strode through the crowd with as much grace as a king of old, and seemingly uncaring of his nudeness or the battered state of his body. He walks right up to Yoongi and places his hands on his hips, cocking his head as he studies the beta.

“I’m Jung Hoseok,” he finally says with a tiny smile.

“I’m Min Yoongi,” he murmurs back, unable to tear his eyes from the omega.

The omega’s smile grows and his scent is once again swirling around them so strongly Namjoon is almost embarrassed. At least the man smelled good - mostly like the little oranges that Yoongi always ate, but with a few deeper notes that brought to mind a bright summer’s day. It was so strong that it was a good thing the man seemed to have a handle on muting it when he needed to, but he knew that it was a blessing for Yoongi. He could actually scent his mate - something he’d never believed he could do. He would be able to scent his mate’s emotions and health, bond properly...Namjoon nearly wanted to cry he was so happy for his friend.

Yoongi snaps his eyes away from the omega and suddenly starts to look around, frantically searching for something.

A tall beta quietly walks up to them and tears off his long crimson tunic, standing in nothing but worn leather wrappings. He offers it to the omega with a shy quirk of his lips.

“It’s clean and has no scent, so it should last you until you find something better.”

The omega seems to gladly accept it and throws it on immediately, the fabric nearly reaching his shins.

“Thank you, Seunghyun,” Hoseok grins and the beta slinks back away as quiet as before.

“He’s not one of the ones that hurt you?” Yoongi grunted.

“No,” Hoseok shakes his head, sighing. “He’s a craftsman - makes and repairs our weapons. Jiyong will probably make him his right-hand man.”

The three of them stand there awkwardly for a moment as the remaining members of the war party seem to ignore them for the most part and begin preparations to leave.

“So,” Namjoon clears his throat. “Are you coming with us or staying with them?”

“Oh,” the omega blushes, glancing at Yoongi. “I was waiting to see what he wanted. Do you...want me to come with you?”

“YES!” Yoongi blurted, then cleared his throat and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I mean, sure. If you want. Whatever.”

“Great! Let’s go!” Hoseok laced his arm with Yoongi’s and tugged him along, leaving Namjoon - their pack alpha, mind you - trailing behind. Namjoon snorts to himself, thinking that his friend was about to have his life turned around more than he’d ever thought possible.

“Wow, you smell so good,” Hoseok suddenly purred, making Namjoon wish he could be anywhere else.

“Uh, that’s nice of you to say, but I’m beta. I don’t…”

“I can smell you, and I’m pretty sure you’re aware we’re mates so it’s probably because of that,” Hoseok chuckles, leaning down to take an exaggerated sniff of Yoongi’s neck.

The beta glanced up at him warily. “Yeah? What does it smell like?”

“Mmm, like fall.”

“What?” Yoongi scrunched his nose and even Namjoon leaned closer curiously to hear the explanation. He’d certainly never been able to scent Yoongi, and he’d known him all his life.

“Yeah, like...cinnamon and pine and maybe a hint of something else. It’s nice. Comforting.”

Yoongi’s shoulders went rigid and he fell silent. Years of studying his best friend gave him that the knowledge that the man was trying not to cry. He wanted to stop and hug him, but he also really wanted to hurry back to their own camp and put on some clothes.

Jungkook came running through the trees to meet them, thankfully bearing a bag full of clothing they always kept around for after a shift.

“Hyungs! Someone from the Yang side came through and stopped all the fighting. Said their alpha was dead and pulled everyone out. What happened?”

“Jung Hoseok here saved us all,” Namjoon reached up and grasped the omega’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Hoseok dropped his head shyly and blushed at the claim.

“Really? How?”

“Pushed the fucker right off a cliff,” Yoongi grunted with amusement. Hoseok squawks in dismay.

“Shit, that’s so cool. Are you coming back with us? My mate is a badass omega too - he’ll love you.”

“Yes,” Namjoon answered for the pair as they remained silent. “Hoseok and Yoongi are true mates. We need to get them back to the camp before their instincts take over. I’d also like to have a nice big meal for the evening to celebrate our victory and get some meat on his bones. Have a few of the men head out to hunt, please Gukkie?”

“On it, alpha!” Without another word he ran back the way he’d come, leaving Yoongi and Namjoon to quickly dress and continue their trek at a slower pace.

After a few more minutes of walking, Namjoon glanced over at Hoseok, studying him curiously.

“You know,” he finally says after a while. “You seem to be taking everything pretty well right now…” Namjoon was genuinely amazed at how strong this omega seemed to be. He’d just killed someone, left who knows how many years of abuse behind, has to be starving and cold - and yet he’s just grinning as he walks with Yoongi, swinging their linked arms like he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Oh, believe me,” Hoseok chuckles. “I will be having a panic attack later, I can promise you that. There will be tears and crying and I probably will keep myself behind doors for a while,” he shrugs and glances over at Yoong with a fond smile. “I think I’m mostly alright at the moment because my omega is thrilled our mate is here. Kinda running high on pheromones and hormones right now.”

“Gotcha,” Namjoon shakes his head. “We’ll plan on the two of you...bonding...tonight, but we’ll have to pack up and head home tomorrow. It’s going to take a lot of work to get the village running smoothly again.”

The moment the camp is in sight Namjoon breathes a sigh of relief. If he was being brutally honest, he hadn’t thought he’d see it again. Hadn’t thought he’d get to go home. But here he was and he was just so ready to get to his mate again.

“Alpha.”

“Ah, Jackson. Good to see you’re alright,” Namjoon smiled brightly at a favored member of his inner circle.

“Thank you, alpha. Good to see you lot make it out alright too. Just wanted to update you before you found your bed.”

“Great. You two go on ahead,” Namjoon gives Yoongi a friendly tap on the back. “Get your mate fed and seen to by our healers before you do anything.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi mumbles, his cheeks nearly scarlet. Still, he grabs the omega’s hand and tugs him towards the central fire where the men are already prepping food for the evening meal.

He turns back to Jackson. “Report.”

“We have twenty-three men wounded, ten were killed. Arrangements have already been made to send the bodies home and we are doing what we can with the wounded. Most of their injuries can wait to be dealt with until we can take them home to healer Lily. A warrior came from the enemy encampment and informed everyone that the Yang alpha was dead and called the men back before we lost too many of our own.”

Namjoon sighs and thanks whoever would listen. He nods, “Thank you, Jackson. Go find your own rest. We pack up and head home tomorrow.”

Jackson grins and spins around, running back towards his personal group of friends. Namjoon sighs wearily and makes his way towards the tantalizing scent of roasting meat. He’d barely sat on a log before someone is shoving a bowl of food into his hands and he begins to eat automatically, just wanting the chore to be done so he could go to sleep. He stares at his friend Yoongi talking softly with his new mate while they fed each other bits of food like the disgusting saps he’d always suspected his friend would be.

One more night and he could start the journey home.

I’m almost there, Jiminie. I’m actually coming home to you, love.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #abo #omegaverse #solastia #say you wont let go #bts abo #alpha namjoon #omega jimin #omega seokjin #polyamory au #poly!bts

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tchallasbabymama · 4 years

Text

Isn’t She Lovely

Hey beautiful people, here’s chapter 11 of Playlist. Check out my masterlist here to catch up and to read my other stories.

Also, In a couple weeks I’ll be starting up “Ménage `a Trois”, a T’Challa x OC x M’Baku throuple fic. Check out the preview here! Word count: 6800

CW: pregnancy complications, a lil smut

“What about T’Kiri?”

“What is it with you all and these apostrophe names? No. How about Adana?”

T’Challa shook his head and scrunched up his nose.

“I hooked up with an Adana once, pass.”

Ashanti rolled her eyes, “Well maybe if you weren’t such a whore back in the day this would be easier.”

Shuri caught the tail end of their conversation and cackled loudly as she entered the kitchen.

“Still trying to come up with names?” She asked as she sat next to Ashanti, now towards the end of her second trimester. The princess grabbed a mango and started slicing away, handing some to Ashanti without her even needing to ask.

“Yes, and half of the girl names I suggest remind your brother here of his sordid past.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes as he continued to fix her a plate of fish and plantains, her latest craving combination. “My past is not sordid, in fact it was quite fun-”

Ashanti stared at him with vibranium daggers in her eyes and he changed his tune, clearing his throat.

“What I mean is, um-”

“Mmmhm. Anyways, this baby will be here before we even know what to call them,” Ashanti put her head in her hands and Shuri rubbed her back.

“Are you open to suggestions?”

“Sure, why not?” Ashanti gave in.

“I’ve always liked Jendayi for a girl.”

“Jendayi…”

The parents both rolled the name around their mouths and looked to each other for confirmation.

“Ok I like it, it’s going on the list.”

“How many names do you have so far?” “We have Nailah, and Jendayi for a princess. A prince would either be Dakarai, Hasani, Kendi, Shaka, or Omari.” Ashanti pulled the prince names out of thin air since they knew they were having a girl, but wanted to throw her off their trail.

“Oooh, good choices.”

“Thank you,” she playfully stuck her tongue out at T’Challa and he gave her the “you’re gonna get it later” look. Her face got hot and she looked away, knowing she had been working his nerves all day long. Ashanti dug into her food and smiled at how even when she was being difficult he would pull out all the stops for her. He scooped some fish and plantains onto his plate and stood with his back against the counter, devouring his food.

“So I see you two are still on that weird ‘baba pregnancy’ thing.”

“Thank Bast for the heart shaped herb or I wouldn't be able to fit into my suit,” T’Challa mused before he and Shuri heard a small sniffle.

“Lucky for you. I feel like an elephant.”

“Oh, my love, I didn’t mean-”

“I know, I just. Ugh, hormones,” she laughed through her tears and he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing her baby bump as he rested his head on top of hers, wishing his baby girl would kick for him.

The princess watched the adorable interaction and sighed. The more she saw of Ashanti’s pregnancy, the more she realized she would never put herself through that ever in her life. Shuri felt she was destined to be the Cool Aunt, not someone’s mother.

“Well I just came for a snack, I’ll see myself out before the two of you start practicing for baby number two.”

They chuckled, but understood. Lately they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other and oftentimes forgot to tone it down when there were other people in the room.

“We can behave, we promise.”

“Speak for yourself,” T’Challa grumbled into her ear, causing her to giggle.

Shuri wretched loudly as she left the room.

“She’s so easy,” T’Challa laughed at his sister’s habit of disappearing whenever they got too close.

“She’ll be a great auntie though. Imagine her teaching our little girl, she’ll be a genius!”

“Who do you think taught Shuri?” he asked, slightly taken aback.

“I just sort of assumed she came out the box fully assembled.”

He laughed at her and reached for her plate.

“No, I’ll get it baby, you do so much for me,” she turned around on her stool and gave him a kiss before hopping off and grabbing her plate. Before she made it around the counter T’Challa got a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach and she faltered, dropping the dish with a loud crash and fainting into his arms.

When she woke up she was in Shuri’s lab with her midwife, Binta, T’Challa, and Shuri all surrounding her.

“What happened?”

“You fainted, love,” T’Challa’s voice was shaky.

“Am I...is the-”

“They’re ok, but dear...you have preeclampsia. Your blood pressure is through the roof, it’s amazing this didn’t happen sooner,” the midwife, Ramla, pointed out. “And you’re lucky the king was there or it could have been much worse.”

T’Challa intertwined their fingers and squeezed her hand. She could tell he was shaken up.

“Ok so what now?” the queen asked. Binta grabbed her other hand and looked to both the soon-to-be parents.

“You’re on bedrest, sweetie.”

“What does that mean?”

They all locked eyes with each other in a silent conversation.

“It means we need to keep your stress levels down so you and your baby can stay healthy.”

“You mean, keep me from getting worse…” her voice softened from the emotions welling up inside her.

T’Challa looked to the midwife and she nodded before leading everyone else out of the room. Once they were alone her tears flowed freely and he wiped them away, letting a couple of his own fall right along with hers.

“You scared me, Kitten,” his hand found its way to his daughter, like always. “I thought I lost you...both of you.”

“We’re here, baby,” her hand cupped his face and brought his lips down to hers. She kissed him lightly and wiped away his tears now. She knew that although anybody would have been scared in that situation, T’Challa was especially worried about the same thing happening to Ashanti that happened to his mother, and now his worst fears were coming true. She kissed him again and he leaned against the table to get closer. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not, I’ll go drag you back myself.”

Ashanti chuckled, but she knew he meant every word.

--------

T’Challa pulled up to the small home on the outskirts of town and parked his hoverbike around back before heading up to the door and knocking. When the door opened he was met with the sight of a short and stout woman with long gray hair braided down her back. Her face lit up when she saw him and her warm eyes crinkled as she smiled. Her smile was short-lived though as she quickly reverted to fussing at him.

“It’s been too long, T’Challa.”

“Yes ma’am, I know. My apologies.”

“Mhm, get in here.” she opened her arms and he came in for one of her famous hugs that made all your problems disappear.

“You should stop by and say hi to your old nanny more often,” Ada chastised him. “But I’m glad to see you. Come in, make yourself at home. Are you hungry? I just finished dinner, I’ll get you a plate.”

He wasn’t, but he knew better than to turn down food from Ada.

“So what brings the king to my doorstep?”

“Ada, you changed my diapers, I’m not ‘the king’ to you.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong, you were always a king. Plus it’s just so funny to say ‘I used to wash the king’s ass’,” she set down a plate just as he took a seat, both laughing. “So, what’s bothering you?”

“Why does something have to-”

“Boy please, get to talking.”

He had hoped he could work his way up to the conversation, but Ada could always read him like a book. He let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his seat.

“It’s Ashanti…”

“Hormones driving you crazy already? It’s just going to get worse from here, so strap in.”

“No, well yes, but I can handle her mood swings...mostly. It’s about her health...she was diagnosed with preeclampsia just the other day and I…,” he sighed again and ran his hand down his face.

“I understand,” she said, taking his hand in her much smaller ones. “T’Challa she’s not your mother.”

“I know that on some level, but it’s the same ailment and I just can’t get those thoughts out of my head.”

“Of course.”

“And she still hasn’t kicked-”

“She? Awwww, you’re going to spoil her rotten.”

“That is what Ashanti and mama say. You all act as though I have no self-control.”

“You won’t once she stares up at you with those big brown eyes and goes ‘pleeease baba’. I’d bet money on it.”

“You three have no faith in me,” he chuckled as he shook his head.

“Oh I have all the faith in the world, dear. You’ll be a great baba, just as I’m sure you are a great husband.”

“I am trying. She’s supposed to be on bedrest relaxing until the baby comes, but you know her.”

“Mmmhm, stubborn as a rhino,” Ada said, head shaking from side to side. “I bet getting her to stay in bed takes an act of Bast.”

“It’s been two weeks and she’s already going stir-crazy. I just wish I could do something, I feel so helpless.”

“All you can do is keep that woman off her feet and away from stressors.”

“Ugh, she lives for stressors. I can’t get her to stop working. You know, she almost went down to Taj’s yesterday.”

Ada let out a belly laugh. She had known Ashanti almost her whole life, too. When her parents opened Zana Cafe, Ashanti would be across the street in her art supply store all the time browsing the aisles and coming up with all kinds of creative ideas. She knew the girl was head-strong, but her downright stubbornness tickled Ada. Ashanti was hard headed just like her umakhulu, and just like her husband.

“You’re not much better. Ramonda told me they basically had to drag you from the throne kicking and screaming when you caught that bug a few years ago. The image in my head is quite hilarious.”

“It wasn’t that dramatic, and I’ve since learned to take days off. If I hadn’t I never would have met Ashanti.”

“Yes, well thank Bast for-”

“Small miracles,” he smiled at her, completing her sentence. She would always say that to him when he was younger, and it stuck with him into adulthood.

“So you did listen to me,” she said with a smirk.

“Of course, more than my own baba at times,” he said sheepishly. “How have you been, Ada?”

“Getting old, but I can’t complain too much.”

“Ada you’re barely 70, you’ve got another 30 years in you.”

“Tell that to my bones,” he waved him off and he chuckled. “I can barely take a step without something aching or rattling.”

“You know, Shuri can help with that. Not the aging, but the pains.”

“I might have to take you up on that. How old is she now, nineteen?”

“Just turned twenty last month.”

“Bast, you kids are getting old. I can’t even call you kids anymore.”

T’Challa smiled warmly at his former nanny, reminiscing on his childhood before taking a bite of his meal.

“Mmm, Ada you’ve outdone yourself.”

“I know,” she winked at him and took a sip of her tea. “So, while you’re here can I get you to change a lightbulb for me?”

“Of course, you don’t have to bribe me with food,” he said and she shrugged, reaching for his plate as he moved it away from her hand. “I’ll take it though.”

T’Challa spent the afternoon with Ada, just catching up and doing odd jobs around her house before he got a call from his wife.

“You’ve been hiding out here all day, you better take that,” Ada warned as he took a deep breath and pressed his communication bead.

“Hello, my love.”

“Hi baby, what are you up to?”

“Visiting someone special,” he turned his beads towards Ada and she sent the queen a wave. Ashanti’s face lit up at seeing the older woman.

“Miss Ada, hi!”

“Well hello miss thing, what’s this I hear about you not listening to the midwife?”

Ashanti glared at T’Challa but he looked off to the side, pretending to care about the wallpaper.

“I’m listening...kind of.”

“Well, ‘kind of’ isn't good enough dear. Our princess there-”

“Challa! You told her?!”

“It slipped out!”

“Can you blame him for being excited?”

“No, I guess not. Oh! The reason I called,” she panned her beads down to her belly, “I think I felt a flutter.”

“Awwww.”

“She kicked?!”

“Not a full kick, just a little movement. Maybe she needs her baba to come sing to her after he picks up some sugared dates from that booth we really like.”

“Gladly,” he chuckled. He knew she had a sweet tooth and had planned to bring her some anyway. They said their goodbyes and T’Challa finished up dusting the fan blades before saying goodbye to Ada, too.

“Don’t let another year go by, T’Challa,” she fussed as he kissed her cheek.

“I wouldn’t dream of it! Come by the palace for dinner sometime, you know you’re always welcome. I’ll make your favorite,” he sang.

“Well if you’re cooking I’ll be there, just say when.”

“Tomorrow? N’Jadaka’s in town.”

“Oooh I’ll definitely be there. You know, if I were forty years younger I’d be your cousin-in-law.”

“Goodbye, Ada,” he chuckled as he took off on his hoverbike towards the bazaar.

--------

The King and Queen of Wakanda laid in their bed, silently watching trashy reality shows as they spoiled their dinner with sugared dates when T’Challa’s laugh made Ashanti sit up suddenly.

“What’s wrong?!” T’Challa panicked, his hand immediately going to her bump.

“Nothing, I thought I felt something.”

The two of them stayed still waiting to see if their baby girl was finally ready to make herself known. They must have sat there for five minutes before T’Challa gave up hope.

“Maybe next-”

“I felt it again!”

“Where?”

She moved his hand over to her left side and they locked eyes.

“Say something again…”

“Uh, what do I say?”

“Did you feel that?”

“No, nothing,” his voice was soft as he visibly deflated.

“Hey,” she brought his face back to hers and kissed him softly, “she’ll kick soon, I can feel it...no pun intended.”

He chuckled and kissed her back.

“Maybe try talking to her some more, she seems to like your voice,” she stroked his curls as he laid his head right below her breasts, his large hand rubbing slow circles around her belly.

“Molo isipho sam, it’s your baba. Will you kick for me? Please?”

“Keep going, I feel that flutter again in the same spot.”

He brought his lips down to kiss over it before placing his hand there.

“Come on, baby girl…”

They spent the rest of the night like that, ordering their dinner to be brought to them so T’Challa could continue coaxing his daughter out of hiding. He spent the whole night periodically checking in with her to see if anything had changed, but she just wasn’t ready to kick yet. He was a little hurt, but was happy to know she responded to his voice. Even as Ashanti drifted off to sleep he continued to talk to his little girl about nothing and everything before wrapping his arms around his wife and following her to dreamland.

--------

T’Challa sat up from the dirt and looked around, confused by his surroundings. His heart beat out of his chest when he saw the far-off acacia tree filled with panthers.

“Relax, son, you’re not dead.”

His head jerked to the side and he locked eyes with N’Yami.

“Wh...how am I here?”

“Bast’s will. And I wanted to talk to you, unyana,” she reached out her hand to him and he took it, rising from the ground and dusting himself off.

“Is something wrong? Is it Ashanti? The baby?!”

N’Yami chuckled, “No, it is you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you’re going to worry yourself to death about this pregnancy.”

“I’m just concerned about-“

“History repeating itself...I know, that’s why I brought you here,” she said with a smile before grabbing his hand, “walk with me, son.”

The two of them strolled along the plane in relative silence until they came upon the same lake Taj brought Ashanti to when she was in her coma. N’Yami waved her hand across the water and as the ripples travelled across the surface they carried an image with them. T’Challa could see himself asleep with his wife, chest rising and falling in rhythm.

“See? Not dead. Now look at this.”

She waved her hand across it in the other direction and another image came to view of T’Challa and Ashanti walking with a little girl teetering between them, holding their hands while she looked up at her baba. Much like his dreams of Ashanti before they met, he couldn’t make out his daughter’s face, but the sight of the three of them together warmed his heart. He felt his entire body relax, releasing tension he didn’t even realize he was holding on to. A big, lopsided smile took over his whole face and N’Yami looked on with pride as they both watched him with his family.

“I can’t see her face, but she’s beautiful,” he said in awe of his daughter. “Can you tell me her name?”

N’Yami chuckled, “It is not Bast’s will for me to do so...but you should know, the two of you chose well.” She winked and he smirked at her cryptic answer before turning his attention back to his daughter.

He could have sat there all night watching her, but he knew he’d have to get back to the plane of the living soon enough so he tried to commit every detail he could to his memory.

“Thank you for this, mama,” he hugged her and kissed her temple. They stayed like that for a few moments until N’Yami pulled away and looked at her son with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“You should also know, she is a very special child...as is your wife.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” she said with a snap of her fingers. T’Challa opened his eyes to see he was back in his bed with Ashanti, very much alive and sated with knowing his girls would be fine.

Just as he was about to get his day started, Ashanti rolled over and threw her leg across him before nuzzling into his side. He placed his arm around her and his other hand rested on her bump. Ashanti’s light snores filled the air as he rubbed her belly in circles with a smile on his face, thinking back to his dream. It was a little fuzzy, but he remembered seeing his birth mother and deep down he was no longer worried about Ashanti and their princess. As Ashanti slept he let his mind wander to thoughts of their future. Would they have more children? When would they step down? When would he let her take over being the Black Panther?

“So many questions, little one,” he mused aloud as he sighed, but his eyes quickly lit up at feeling the smallest little tremor right under his hand.

“So you do like my voice, eh?” he felt it again and Ashanti shifted next to him, undoubtedly feeling the movement as well.

“Wake up, Kitten,” he whispered in her ear and a smile spread across her face before her eyes slowly fluttered open. “Watch this.”

He lowered himself to her belly and his eyes flitted back up to Ashanti.

“How was your sleep?”

“It- Bast! Did you feel that? You had to have felt that one.”

He nodded with a goofy smile on his face, “Just a little bit.”

Tears came to Ashanti’s eyes as she sat up in bed. More came and T’Challa grew concerned, pulling her into his arms.

“What is it, uthando? Talk to me,” he tilted her chin towards his face and wiped her tears before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I was worried something was wrong since she hadn’t moved yet,” the queen sniffled.

“She’s ok, just a late bloomer,” the smile returned to his face as he felt movement beneath his palm.

“She really loves her baba.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Uh-uh,” she leaned in to kiss him, slipping her tongue past his lips.

“Kitten…” he warned, “The midwife said-”

“Ugh I know what she said, but I’m horny as fuck. That’s gotta be another stressor or something, right?”

He laughed at her insistence. “Only if you choose to stress about it, my love. Don’t make me call Binta...or Bisa.”

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“Wouldn’t I? You won’t listen to me, so-,” he pretended to reach for his beads.

“Ok fine!” Ashanti pouted and T’Challa chuckled at her bratty behavior.

“You act like I don’t miss it, too. Trust me, the second you’re all healed up, you’re in for it.”

With that he got out of bed and padded his way to the shower, turning it on to their desired temperature and catching a glimpse of her out the corner of his eye as she walked into the bathroom, yawning. When she turned towards the shower his jaw could have dropped.

“You get more beautiful every day,” he pulled her in and his fingers trailed down the dark line down the middle of her stomach as she rolled her eyes. “What? I’m serious, look at you.”

He pulled her in front of the full-length mirror in the shower and stood behind her with his head on top of hers and his arms in their usual place on the underside of her belly. He studied her round face as she squirmed in his arms.

“Challaaaa,” she whined and poked out her lip, “I don’t feel like it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know how to explain it...I just don’t feel like it’s my body anymore. I don’t feel like myself, I don’t feel beautiful or sexy or any of that stuff you tell me. I just feel...sick that this body that’s supposed to keep my baby safe and do all these wonderful things could harm her instead,” she didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt T’Challa’s thumbs on her cheeks. She buried her head in his chest and sobbed as he stroked her back. “This was supposed to be a beautiful experience and it just sucks. Plus I’m constantly horny but I can’t even have sex with my hot ass husband. I fucking hate preeclampsia.”

“Me too, Kitten,” he sighed and she pulled back to look at him. She hadn’t really considered how he felt in all this, understandably wrapped up in her own web of emotions. “She will be fine though, I just know it. You both will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He grabbed the loofah and squirted some of her black soap bodywash into the middle before lathering her up.

“Last night, I had a dream but it’s sort of fuzzy. N’Yami was there and...I think she gave me a glimpse into our future. I don’t remember what I saw, but I woke up happy.”

A slight smile appeared on her face.

“And as for the sex, well the midwife said if we can get your blood pressure down it’s a maybe...so let’s focus on keeping you relaxed, ok?”

Ashanti nodded before he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on his. “Because I miss my pussy,” he kissed her passionately before he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “You walking around here looking like this while I can’t touch you is gonna come back to haunt you later, trust me. I know you don’t see it right now, but you look like Bast herself.”

T’Challa knelt down to wash her legs and feet and she moaned at the feeling of being pampered by him. He chuckled and rose to his full height before she began washing his body in return. He stopped her when she began to kneel, but she got down anyway.

He had missed how she looked from that angle and she tried her best to ignore his thickening member right in front of her face. He had just taken care of her, what harm could it do to return the favor?

She looked up at him with a playful look in her eye and just as he registered what she was going to do, his dick was already halfway down her throat.

Her head bobbed up and down his length as he leaned back against the shower wall, sloppy sucking noises filling the air. His hand palmed the back of her head, but didn’t push. It just stayed there, riding out the waves of pleasure shooting through him.

Her tongue explored the head of his dick as her left hand fondled his balls while her right hand stroked his shaft. He let out a loud moan when she took him all the way in and swallowed around him, deepening the suction as she did her damndest to suck the cum right out of him.

“K-kitten, mmm. Let me cum on that pretty face of yours,” he growled out. She removed her lips from him with a pop, but a trail of spit still connected her to him.

“Ewe Kumkani,” she said as she stroked his dick with both hands. “I hear you at night, in here stroking your dick because you can’t fuck me. Let me do it for you, baby.”

“Mmmhm,” was all he could say as her grip tightened around his length and her other hand cupped his balls, making his cum shoot out and paint her face.

“Stay just like that,” he grabbed his beads from outside the shower and pointed them towards her. She smiled as he snapped a picture of her covered in his essence. He helped her up from the floor and kissed her before they finished their shower and went their separate ways for the day: T’Challa to the throne room and Ashanti to the couch to catch another trashy tv marathon.

--------

“Are you sure you feel up to this? We can cancel if we need to,” T’Challa fretted as he put on her shoes for her since she couldn’t reach her feet anymore. She was eight months pregnant with their active little girl and was finally getting to have some fun for the first time since she was placed on bedrest.

“Challa, we’re not cancelling my party. We’ll be fine, remember?” She alluded to his dream from several weeks ago as she took his head in her hand and brought it to her face for a kiss.

“I know, I just want you to be comfortable.”

“What’s more comfortable than being showered with gifts and praise?”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead then her nose then her lips. He reached for his beads and she stopped him.

“If you call for that transport chair, I swear to Bast-”

“It’s too far for you to walk, my love.”

“It’s just downstairs, I’ll be fine if we walk slowly.”

T’Challa agreed before holding out his arm for her and the two of them leisurely walked downstairs to join their friends and family that awaited them for a small party in Ashanti and baby’s honor.

When they walked in they were met with the smiling faces of their loved ones all around the beautifully decorated living area. Ashanti’s eyes watered at the sight and everyone smiled empathetically at her tears. Bisa approached her daughter and led her to the throne she never gets to sit in anymore, what with being bedridden and all. They had it brought upstairs for the night just so she could sit on it like the proper queen she is.

“Look familiar?” Chidi joked as she sat down gingerly.

“Barely, I forgot what it looked like!”

Everyone laughed and she looked around, confused.

“Where’s yours?” she asked her husband.

“Today is not about me, it’s about the queen.”

“Nah we got some stuff for you too, you just don’t get a throne,” N’Jadaka shouted from the kitchen, looking over the snack table before his auntie pulled him away.

T’Challa chuckled and made himself comfortable in a normal chair next to her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of how she looked sitting on that throne. Ashanti looked more regal than ever and he fell in love all over again. She caught him staring and he sent her a wink, so she sent him one right back.

Zina giggled at their interaction and Ashanti turned to ask her about the shop when T’Challa stopped her, “No work today, uthando.”

“How did you-”

“I know you,” he turned to their loved ones, “So, what now?”

“Now I get gifts,” Ashanti said with a devilish smirk on her face, making the room erupt in laughter.

“That you do dear, and I think your parents wanted to go first,” Ramonda stated, moving out the way so they could get to their daughter.

They were both already fighting tears as they hugged their baby girl tight. When they pulled back, Chidi handed her a gift wrapped box that she quickly tore into. When she removed the lid, she paused.

“Was this-”

“Yours, mhm. It’s your baby blanket,” Bisa sniffled as Ashanti pulled the woven blanket from the box, tracing her fingers over the symbols and fighting tears of her own. She handed it to T’Challa and he looked over it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Ada was next, pulling a stuffed panther from behind her back.

“I made it myself,” she bragged as both of the soon-to-be-parents’ faces lit up.

“Miss Ada, it’s beautiful!”

“Nothing but the best for our future prince or princess,” she said with a wink. So far she was the only person who knew the gender besides the two of them and they wanted to keep it that way for now.

One by one, their loved ones presented them with gifts for the baby and parents. N’Jadaka got the baby a tiny pair of limited edition Jordans, Zina and Jafari made the baby a little Taj’s apron and an IOU to paint a family portrait once the baby arrives, and Shuri made a bassinet that could track the baby’s vital signs and growth. M’Baku and Shani gifted them with furs to keep the baby warm when they visited their aunt and uncle in the mountains. Nakia got the future monarch hand-sewn vibranium cloth diapers, sure to keep in whatever messes they made. Naturally, Okoye gave them a small practice spear, and Steve and Bucky sent a box of Cuban cigars for T’Challa to crack open after the birth. However, Kwame and Binta’s gift was apparently not to be opened in public since it was “for when that pussy heals.”

Ramonda purposefully went last, handing them a storybook of Wakandan folktales.

“Open it,” she said to T’Challa with a gleam in her eye.

He cracked it open and the kimoyo bead lodged in the spine of the book activated. A voice rang out that hadn’t been heard in years.

“One day, Ari the panther was out walking by the river when she looked up and saw a monkey swinging from the tree above…”

“H-how?” T’Challa choked out as Ashanti reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“He had the idea a long time ago and figured he should go ahead and do it ‘just in case’.”

Everyone, aside from N’Jadaka, who would truly never forgive his uncle in life or death, was misty-eyed.

“Now they can know their umakhulu, even if it is just his voice.”

“Thank you, mama. Thank you all, this has been…” his voice trailed off as his eyes found their way back to the storybook.

“You don’t have to thank us, we do it because we love you. All three of you.”

The little party continued through the night, with Ashanti on her throne looking to her loved ones with a smile on her face. Her right hand almost never left her bump as she thought about all the love their little girl would be surrounded by her whole life. She was lost in her thoughts for a moment before yawning and bringing herself back to the present.

Bisa caught the tail end of it and shook her head, “Someone’s tired.”

“This is the most excitement I’ve had in months,” Ashanti chuckled “I guess I just can’t hang anymore.”

“You’ll get back to it once baby…” Chidi trailed off, hoping a name would slip out one of the parents’ mouths. “Oh, come on!”

“We haven’t even picked a name yet, baba. Actually,” she looked to T’Challa for confirmation and he gave a slight nod, “we were wondering if you all could each give us one suggestion.”

“No playing favorites, though!” Kwame pointed out, making everyone else nod along in agreement.

“Yes, you should not pick my suggestion just because it is mine, but because it is obviously the best,” M’Baku grinned from his corner of the room and Shani rolled her eyes at her husband’s antics.

“Everyone, text me your suggestions and I’ll send them over. I already gave them a name the other day,” Shuri offered the group and her beads already started buzzing before she could finish her sentence. About a minute later, all the names were in and Shuri sent them off to Ashanti’s and T’Challa’s beads. “There you go. Have fun picking my name anyway.”

As the group argued amongst themselves about whose name would win, Ashanti leaned into her husband and whispered in his ear, “I love this, but I can’t keep my eyes open and Baby Girl is cranky and won’t stop kicking. Can we go?”

T’Challa leaned down and kissed her belly, “Princess, be nice to your mama.”

The kicking stopped and Ashanti glared at T’Challa.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to do?”

“Apparently,” he shrugged and kissed her temple before standing up. “Let’s go, love.”

He reached out his hand and she grabbed onto it, rising from her throne.

“Thank you everybody. I love you all, but I can’t stay awake any longer or I might just pass out.”

“Go get some rest, dear,” Ramonda kissed her cheek before turning and kissing her son’s. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

The couple said their goodbyes and went back to their quarters. They quickly got undressed and slid into bed, immediately getting into their usual position as of late with Ashanti curled into his side with her leg thrown over him and his hand resting softly on her bump. However, the princess wasn’t ready to go to sleep after today’s excitement.

“Challa, tell your daughter to go to sleep, mama’s tired,” she whined as her child turned cartwheels in her womb.

He scooted down to her belly and placed a kiss on it, rubbing the sides and softly singing a lullaby his baba used to sing to him. He remembered that it always knocked him out, and apparently it worked for his wife and child, too. They were both out within minutes and he smiled at a job well done.

--------

Around 1am, Ashanti got up to go to the bathroom, as usual, but when she got back in bed she just couldn’t seem to get comfortable. T’Challa’s light snores filled the room as Ashanti sat up in bed, rubbing her belly and thinking about what their future would be like when she felt a wetness between her legs.

“The fuck?” She stood up and saw a wet spot on the bed that reminded her of the fun times she and T’Challa had in the past. However, while she was still the culprit, this time it was a little different.

She waddled her way to the bathroom and wiped herself up, but it kept slowly leaking out of her.

“This is it, she’s coming,” she said aloud to no one in particular with a smile on her face before waddling back to the bed and shaking the sleepy king awake.

“Mmm, ice cream or peanuts tonight?”

“Neither.”

His eyes opened slowly and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Ok, do you want me to cook something?”

Ashanti giggled, “No...I think the baby’s coming-”

“What?! She’s early-”

“- but don’t panic, Binta said we have plenty of time from when my water breaks to when I actually start active labor.” She grabbed his hand, “Yes she’s early, but so were we. Calm down baby.”

T’Challa nodded, trying to remember anything Binta or Ramla had said over the last few months, but drawing blanks every time. “Ok, so what now?”

“First, I’m going to take a shower-”

“But-”

She held up her finger, silencing his protest.

“I’m going to shower before the serious contractions kick in, then we can talk about names. Binta said it’s all about staying comfortable until it’s go-time.”

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win the argument. “I’m coming with you.”

The two of them showered together and T’Challa kept a watchful eye on her as her face twisted in discomfort at the cramps coming from her womb.

“Are you sure this is ok?”

Ashanti pulled him down and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m sure.”

They finished up their shower and he covered her in cocoa butter before doing the same thing to himself. T’Challa then stripped the sheets from the bed and the two of them laid down, pulling up the list of names on their beads. They argued over a few of them and one was already on their list, but one of the names stood out to both of them and they finally came to an agreement just as Ashanti’s contractions intensified.

“Ok we should start timing them,” she said through gritted teeth.

T’Challa nodded and set the stopwatch on his beads before texting Binta and updating her on Ashanti’s progress. Ashanti climbed out of bed and started walking around, one hand supporting her lower back and the other on the underside of her belly. T’Challa felt helpless as he watched her face contort in pain again, and looked down at his beads.

“Twenty minutes.”

Ashanti labored in their room for another hour or so before the contractions reached ten minutes apart and they transported her to the royal birthing chamber.

The birth was a blur. All Ashanti remembered was the feel of the warm water and her husband’s solid body behind her. She knew there had to have been pain, but seeing her daughter’s face when they laid her on her chest made it all disappear. Her parents wept when they first saw her and her first cries were music to their ears.

“Does she have a name?” Ramla asked as Binta wiped the new mother’s forehead with tears streaming down her face, too.

T’Challa spoke without tearing his eyes away from his daughter, “Siyanda. Her name is Siyanda.”

After Ashanti delivered the placenta, Ramla and Binta helped the new family out of the tub and into the bed. Ashanti’s eyes could barely stay open, so she fell asleep and T’Challa took his daughter into his arms.

“Hello, my princess,” she opened her eyes and stared up at her baba for the first time, causing his breath to catch in his throat. She had his mother’s eyes.

A little yawn escaped her tiny mouth and he was amazed as though he had never seen a yawn before. Every little thing she did blew his mind and as she yawned again he realized she was waiting on him.

He chuckled before shaking his head, “Oh I know what you want.”

He quietly cleared his throat and began singing to her softly, watching as she drifted off to sleep just like her mother.

“Isn't she lovely?

Isn't she wonderful?

Isn't she precious?

Less than one minute old

I never thought through love we'd be

Making one as lovely as she

But isn't she lovely made from love?

Isn't she pretty?

Truly the angel's best

Boy, I'm so happy

We have been heaven blessed

I can't believe what Bast has done

Through us She's given life to one

But isn't she lovely made from love?

Isn't she lovely?

Life and love are the same

Life is Siyanda

The meaning of her name

Ashanti, it could have not been done

Without you who conceived the one

That's so very lovely made from love”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @ljstraightnochaser, @determinednot2fall, @dersha89

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #black!oc #t'challa #t'challa x oc #playlist

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r6sedust · 4 years

Text

Faith

(a fanfiction based off of an AU where Fenton is a FOWL agent, you can find it on ao3 by thatkidwithr6ses, which is my profile. I'm not posting the link cause my post dont appear in tags if I add links)

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It wasn't hard to see that Huey thought highly of Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera.

He was smart and noble. A brilliant scientist who was capable of creating his own energy source. A hero who believed there was no limits when it came to saving others. And not only was he a great role model, he was a great friend. His best friend. He would always ask Huey for help and his opinions on his inventions. He was always so fun to talk to. Fenton would always enlighten Huey about his inventions that it sparked a childlike wonder inside of the small duck. He would always be delighted to answer Huey's questions about the Gizmosuit for his journal entries. Fenton was such a kind and good natured person. He was all that Huey ever dreamed of being.

Yes, he's a good person.

He's a good person.

He's supposed to be a good person.

A good person who is always there for his friends and family. Who is trustworthy and would never keep secrets.

Who would never lie

Who would never betray anyone.

Sure, he's betrayed them before, but he'd never do it again because he learned his lesson right?

Right?

That's what Huey thought until he saw Fenton standing alone in his bathroom office, holding a button in his hands.

That had a tiny voice coming out of it. A voice he heard giving him orders.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Bradford Buzzard.

'Agent Double C? Agent Double C, do you copy?' That was Bradford's voice.

Agent Double C? Who's that?

Crackshell-Cabrera. Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera.

Huey stood at the entrance of the stall, clenching the bottom hem of his shirt. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. He had barely any thought of what was going on. No, he knew exactly what was going on: that Fenton was a traitor-

'NO! ' Huey mentally screamed at himself, 'there has to be an explanation for this! Fenton isn't a villain! He's not! There has to be a reason behind this.'

"F-Fenton..." was all Huey managed to get out.

Fenton quickly turned off the communicator and hid it in his fist. His face scrunched up slightly and he looked at Huey. "Huey, I-" Fenton attempted to explain as he slowly approached the younger one of the two. Huey backed up a little bit in response. "W-what are...w-why are...why?" Huey struggled. "I-I..." Fenton was at a loss of words. He sighed and looked away from Huey for a bit to find those words again.

"I-I-I can't really explain it now, but all I can say is that I have my reasons."

Has his reasons? What does that even mean?

"W-what...what do you mean? What's going on? Fenton, why are you talking to Bradford?!" Huey exclaimed, tears starting to fill his eyes. "Why...why FOWL?"

Fenton slowly looked at the floor, tapping his fingers in his thigh. "I-it's a long s-story that I don't think...uh...that I cannot really explain right now." he responded while looking down the whole time. "No, this...this isn't right! You're not a villain! Is FOWL forcing you to do this? Are you being controlled right now? Cause if so then we can help-"

"Huey!" Fenton interrupts, looking the boy dead in the eye and clenching his fist. He then softens his expression and gives Huey a sorrowful look. "I'm d-doing this voluntarily." You can almost hear a loud thump as Huey's heart drops. He lets a tear slip as he backs away from the stall. "...no..." he manages to say. "I'm really sorry, but that's just reality." Fenton states.

Huey feels his whole body begin to shake. His breath was shaky and tears started to fall faster. He stared at Fenton with a fearful and hurt look that struck Fenton in the heart like an arrow. He tried to reached out to the young duck, but he quickly ran away from him. "Uncle Scrooge!" Fenton heard him call out. He thought of going after him, but realized that at this point it was useless. Preventing Huey from telling them the truth and forcing him to keep the secret against his will was cruel. Fenton wasn't heartless.

Which was the only thing about himself that he was certain of.

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"He's in here." Huey said as his uncle, Scrooge, and his brothers and Webby followed behind. They quickly entered the bathroom, Scrooge walking in front of the kids to the stall office. He looked back at the kids to see if they were ready. Dewey posed in a basic fighting position and gave him a nod, Webby pulled out her dagger with a nod as well, and Louie just hid behind Webby and Dewey. Meanwhile, Huey just stood to the side, hugging himself and looking at the ground. Scrooge nods at the kids before pushing the door open.

"Alright, explain yerself Cabrera-" Scrooge started. Suddenly, he noticed that the stall was empty. He backed up and looked around the restroom. "Where in blazes is his?"

Huey's head perked up at his uncle's question. Him and the others ran to the stall to see what he was talking about. To their surprise, Fenton wasn't in the stall like Huey said. "He...ran away?" Huey asked quietly. Scrooge let out a frustrated sigh and looked and Huey. He bent down and pat his head and gave him a hopeful look. "Don't worry Huey, I'll find him and get to the bottom o'this." He said. As he left, he mumbled something under his breath that Huey faintly caught. "Curse me kilts. And to think that another one of my employees was just another traitorous spy."

Huey felt himself begin to cry again as he rested his head against the stall's door. Dewey, Louie, and Webby took notice and exchanged sad looks with one another. Webby approached Huey and gave him a hug from the side. "I'm so sorry Huey, I know this is tough on you." She said, rubbing his back. His brothers approached him after Webby, both of them joining the hug. "It's gonna be OK big bro." Dewey comforted. "I-I know," Huey said quietly, "it's just...so hard to believe. I-I don't w-want to b-b-believe--". Dewey began to shush him gently as Huey sobbed.

The others felt terrible for their brother. They knew there isn't really anything they can do to fix this, but they still wanted to help. They had a feeling that this was only the tip of the iceberg.

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"Agent Double C, did you find those documents like I ordered?" Director Bradford Buzzard asked as Fenton entered the meeting room of the hideout. He walked to the chair beside the old buzzard and stood there with his hands folded behind his back. He looked away from Buzzard out of both annoyance and shame. "N-no sir, my mission was compromised. Huey Duck found out my identity and, as far as I am aware, he told his uncle." Fenton admitted.

Bradford furrowed his eyebrows and glared at the duck. "What do you mean he knows your identity? You were suppose to be FOWL's secret weapon. How can you do that when you've been caught?"

"M-my apologies, sir. I shouldn't have carelessly had my communicator on."

"Apologies won't fix my plan." Bradford huffed, he removed his glasses and wiped his face, letting out a sigh. "You were so close too. I guess I have to come up with another plan. You're dismissed."

"And to think you were competent enough for that job" Bradford quietly hissed as he walked away, not knowing, or more likely caring, that Fenton heard. Fenton scoffed to himself as he hurriedly left the room. He went into one of the private rooms and locked himself inside. He sat criss cross on the ground and rested his head in his hands. He felt like he was going to cry, but nothing came out except for a sigh.

If only, if only he hadn't had his communicator on at that time, he could've gotten the documents and have his mission be over with. He could've finally gotten what he had hoped of getting from Bradford like he promised. He wouldn't have had to crush Huey's heart.

No, he couldn't dwell on that anymore, on Huey anymore. He was merely just an obstacle in the mission. Fenton always knew that, he knew that getting close to anyone would be pointless.

But he did anyway. Not just to Huey, but to Dr. Gearloose, Manny, everyone. And it was all ruined in a matter of a minute. He had to admit that he did feel guilty about what he did, but that was the kind of person he was. That's what a good person does, they feel bad. Yeah, he was a good person. 'I am a good person" he thought to himself. He rolled his eyes and huffed.

"What's the point of lying to yourself anymore?"

#huey duck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales fanfiction #f.ow.l #ducktales au #fenton crackshell cabrera

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Note

14 Bryce x mc please🥰

Thanks for the ask anon :)

You can find the prompt list here

#14- Are you okay?

Word count: 1.1 K words

Warning: Mention of gaslighting, emotional abuse, suicide and self harm

Author’s note: So um.. I was not having the best of days and when I saw this prompt, the flood broke XD

This is written in first person i.e my mc, Aliya Acharya’s POV

please forgive me if I make any mistakes.

Are You Okay?

I walked down the hallways in a daze. People usually say that I'm a cheery and funny person to hang out with me and that's the truth.

But, a phone call from my parents wipes the slate and leaves me... Empty.

At 28, I thought I would have gotten over the hell they put me through, and that I could just flip them off and carry on but that does not happen. I just can't bring myself to do that.

So I continue walking, with no direction, hoping that the numbness in my chest leaves me.

Someone must have called out to me, but it felt like my head was under water. I might be here physically but my mind was empty, all emotions down the drain. Just a walking drone.

A hand touched my shoulder and forced me to turn towards him.

"Angel! I have been calling you for the last minute." Bryce spoke.

Gulping, I forced a smile on my face. "Sorry, I was busy thinking about the case."

Bryce's eyes scrutinized my face, and I couldn't get my self to meet his eyes.

"No, something is wrong... Are you okay?"

Are you okay?

What a funny question. I mean whenever someone (probably like 2 people) asks me this, I can't help but throw my head back and laugh which usually brings weird looks from them, which eventually leads them to not talk to me for the next decade.

It's not sarcasm. I genuinely find it hilarious.

Because when someone asks me that question, the shitty and fucky reality of my life slams into me like a train wreck.

My life indeed is a series of unfortunate events occurring one after the other and at this point I have accepted it that I was born to suffer.

I'm not trying to pull the "woe is me card". Nah, not into the sympathy kink. It's a universal fact that me, Aliya Acharya is cursed.

I never really talk about it though because when I once tried, my friends, peers, nobody believed me that my parents are actually so toxic that Britney Spears could be jealous.

Why would they anyway? They have met my parents, who are respected people and are held at a pedestal. My dad is an entrepreneur of a large company with a turn over so huge, you would be shocked. And my mother is literally an angel and has her own NGO where she teaches the poor kids of Mumbai basic education. She is a healer and a councellor.

So. why would anyone believe me when I say that they abuse me emotionally?

I tried talking about these things when I was 18 to my therapist, trying to get some guidance, some help. But, that completely backfired on me because she was close friends with my parents.

Just ignore it... Wow what a solid advice.

So yeah, I have given up after that. I used to write my suffering in a diary but after sometime, that also didn't help.

I was numb to everything.

Wake up. Eat. Study. Sleep. Repeat.

I had no social life because well, I have my parents to blame for that. Since a very young age they raised me to be super competitive and that everyone I met, wants me to fail. They would put heavy restrictions on who I interacted with till the late teens.

And it didn't help that I was bullied throughout highschool.

So hello anxiety, depression and self esteem issues.

Being depressed has become a second nature for me. Even though it's been five years since I moved out, I still slip into bouts of depression. No amount of therapy or medication can fix the damage they did to me.

They gaslighted me like the fourth of July. Everyday there was this fix menu of insults which they flung my way, like daggers.

-> you are a disappointment. -> you are abusive -> I have given birth to a monster (that's my mom's favourite line) -> you deserve to die/ you shouldn't have been born( this was said like four times but it counts!)

And the funny thing is if anyone else were to say this to me, anyone other than my family, they would be on the ground with a broken nose.

I mean, why would your own family say such things to you, right?

So I have never spoken about this. I want to move on so bad, but the scars on my legs and my heart are a painful reminder.

I can't even say I'm a survivor because I still suffer. Even though I'm thousands of miles away from them, they always call to tell me 'how I have distanced myself from them' and how 'they don't deserve to be cut off from their daughter's life'.

That really sends me off. It pisses me so much that they are so proud and blinded by this false sense of superiority that they can't see how words hurt. I want to shout at them and tell them how I have a record of how many times I wanted to take my life because of them.

But I don't.

Because they will end up saying I'm hypersensitive and a habitual liar.

I mean what is even the point?

So yeah... I built up a fortress, brick by brick, making my walls high so that absolutely no one can come in.

No one can hurt me.

No one can have that insane power over me.

And no one can see the ugly scars.

But as I stare at those honey brown eyes, with flecks if gold, I find my resolve crumbling. I find myself stumbling.

After the entire ordeal of bullying and gaslighting, I became a very good judge of character... And for the first time in a very long time, I actually see genuine concern.

That someone actually wants my wellbeing. That someone actually gives a damn about me.

And that's scary.

Every time I edge towards opening up, my conscience drags me back, saying that 'This is all a foil to hurt me.'

But... I don't feel the kind of security anywhere but in Bryce's arms. I never feel the reassurance from anywhere but from Bryce. He had been supportive, caring and the affection he shows me is slowly filling up the void my parents left in me.

"Aliya, you know that I'm there for you right?" He said as he placed his hand on my shoulder, pulling me out if my reverie.

And that did it.

That gave me the push to take the leap.

The leap of faith.

Faith that he will catch me when I'm falling apart and he will catch me when I am falling for him.

I took a sharp inhale, and looked up at him, tears welling up in my eyes. That one word, which I had struggled to say all my life, slipped off my tongue like butter.

"No.... I'm not okay."

This was word vomit at its finest.

I might end up deleting it

Bryce X MC: @loveellamae @lilyvalentine @sanchita012 @zeniamiii @lucy-268 @raleigheffingcarrera @have-aheart @utterlyinevitable @rookie-ramsey

Permanent Tag list: @trappedinfandoms @oofchoices @agent-breakdance @dailydoseofchoices @tyrilstouch @siaramsey @theeccentricbibliophile @ac27dj @ramseysno1rookie @justanotherrookie @openheart12 @jamespotterthefirst @checkurwindow @chasingrobbie @junggoku @bellcat2010 @choicesstan1 @mvalentine @crazynutella @hatescapsicum

#anushka writes #writing prompts #oh bryce #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #open heart bryce #open heart #open heart mc #open heart 2 #choices #choices oh #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #pixelberry

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bemused-writer · 5 years

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VNC Chapter 44 Analysis

Well, I think the main takeaway most people had with this chapter is that Vanitas is a lot less collected than we all thought. And I completely agree. XD Clearly, I've given this fellow too much credit in my fanfic.

Anyhow, it almost goes without saying that we learned a lot about Vanitas in this chapter, but we also learned a surprisingly large amount about Roland, so let's dig in.

The first thing that struck me as noteworthy was Noé's complete and utter overreaction. We already knew that he never really had to do things for himself with Louis and Dominique constantly taking care of him when he was young. For example, Mochizuki pointed out that they always helped him clean his room, and he is now terrible at being tidy. In other words, Noé was a touch spoiled. This is relevant because it explains why he has never had to take care of an ill person once in his life, so if Vanitas says he can't continue on then, by Noé's logic, he really must be dying.

Thus, it's completely fair when Manet and Nox wonder if these two are children; they're both certainly acting like it. XD

Still, Noé is coming from a place of genuine concern; he's never seen Vanitas act like this just like we haven't.

Before I move on, one thing I'd like to point out is the difference between Noé and Luca's reaction to the people they care about acting oddly. Luca immediately goes to someone he knows Jeanne trusts--a friend in other words. Meanwhile, Noé goes to the nearest authority figure he can find: Count Orlok. I think this is telling on both their parts.

Luca is someone who was raised to be the authority figure. While he doesn't like it even remotely, he knows he has to solve things for himself. He probably also knows the value of going to someone you know you can trust; he's surrounded by the aristocracy and he knows you can't trust just anyone with delicate information.

Noé has blind faith in authority figures on the other hand. He obeys Teacher without question, accepts Ruthven's presence in his hotel room as something he has a right to do in chapter 19, and he always listens to Dominique no matter what. Both she and Teacher are the ones that choose what his clothes look like according to the extra in the back of volume 3.

I suppose what I'm getting at is that Noé is very comfortable, accustomed even, to other people making decisions for him. He's not the one who has chosen most anything in his life, and I think this attitude started when he was very young. Certainly being sold as a slave and accepting that whoever bought him would be his "master" was a mindset he probably had to develop to survive and he may not have fully grown out of it. I'm sure it was only compounded by being surrounded by people who doted on him and protected him and made sure he never even had to make a decision for himself. His attitude is born of a very strange mix of neglect and indulgence.

In other words, Noé has a lot of potential problems he needs to sort out, and I'm sure his independence is going to be one of them.

Getting back on track, all of this is to say it's not surprising Noé goes to Count Orlok when he can't find Amelia. In theory, he could have tracked Dante down, someone Vanitas sort-of trusts, but he doesn't. It could because it would have been too hard to find him, but personally I don't think it even crossed his mind. He doesn't know what to do; someone else is supposed to handle these matters.

As for Vanitas, he is a complete wreck in this chapter. XD I think Vanitas is the kind of character that likes to act like he's calm, collected, and definitely knows what he's doing. It's even easy for us, the readers, to think the same because he has the book, he has the powers, he knows all about vampires when even the vampire protagonist doesn't, so it would make sense.

But all of that ignores the fact that Vanitas has also shown some definite signs of being slightly unhinged in awkward social situations from the very start. How does he befriend Noé? He stalks him all across Paris. How does he react when Noé gets closer to understanding him? He draws a dagger at him and tells him to go away. Alternatively, he calls him a slur and tries to make him leave. How does he handle Dominique accusing him of loving VotBM? He goes on a full-blown rant in the middle of a vampiric ball and generally makes a fool of himself.

So, the fact that he's a complete mess when he realizes he has genuine affection for someone is actually a lot less surprising in this context. Vanitas is trying to be someone he isn't. In other words, all that pompous know-how is a complete facade. 8D

So, in line with him making a fool of himself at the ball, he proceeds to make a fool of himself in front of Orlok, Nox, and Manet and, frankly, Noé.

Manet understandably wasn't expecting this information, but what's more interesting is that it confirms the fact that Vanitas really hadn't told Noé a thing after Gévaudan. The fact that he has now snapped and is telling everyone in the whole room shows just how affected he was. But what's also interesting is that he only starts to talk about this when there are other people. He couldn't just tell Noé himself. Perhaps because he thinks Noé won't have any advice?

And this is the definition of oversharing. XD Even Noé looks like he's wondering what on earth Vanitas is saying.

Honestly, this is more the kind of awkward, wildly inappropriate confession I might expect from Noé except that Noé would have the sense to only say something like this to someone he trusts, like when he told Dominique he thought Vanitas's blood smelled good. Still not the most tactful thing, but a whole lot better than describing, in some detail, the torrid affair you're having to a room full of people you barely know. 8D

As a side note, this pretty much confirms what I was saying in my last meta: Vanitas didn't enjoy Jeanne drinking his blood previously, at least not all that much. This time he did, and that definitely shows a shift in their relationship. As for how all of that works, it could be because Jeanne is fonder of him as well. Perhaps a vampire's toxin is in tune with that kind of thing? Unfortunately, we just don't know enough at this point to say.

Regardless, it means that when Vanitas went on that long rant to Jeanne in chapter 12 about how great it felt when she drank his blood and how they were definitely compatible, was yet more lying. It's kind of, possibly, true now though, hence his freakout.

Anyway, Orlok and co. decided Vanitas's "emergency" really wasn't that much of an emergency and they were understandably kicked out. I like that they were apparently very careful with Murr and included some treats for him as well. They really do love that cat. Knowing what we kind of know about Murr now I have to wonder: is this some kind of elaborate manipulation...?

But Noé, apparently still taking Vanitas's malady very seriously despite all that weird stuff about Jeanne, is not content with being kicked out.

I suppose the point here is that, despite knowing what Vanitas said was improper, he still isn't quite catching the gravity of things, and he's still convinced Vanitas is dying rather than having an existential breakdown over love.

Meanwhile, Vanitas is walking around in a haze in Paris, thinking about Jeanne, her smile, and the promise he made her. We get a look at his face, and I think it actually gives some pretty solid insight into what he's thinking:

He clenches his fist, his face is flushed, and he looks worried, distressed. The problem here isn't just that he cares about someone and doesn't know how to deal with it. No, it's actually much worse than that: he cares about someone and he promised he'd kill her if she ever lost herself and Vanitas, cursed with a certain understanding of just how bad things can get, knows he might actually have to keep this promise, a promise he may now regret making.

So, he's flustered because he cares, frightened because he cares, but also terrified because he knows things can only go badly from here. And, more than anything else, he knows he might actually be in love.

It only makes sense he'd think of Noé's original question here. It's not just that Noé is the one who's been trying to figure all this out (not Vanitas), but Vanitas knows Noé is the reason he's gotten into this much "trouble" in the first place. Opening up, caring about people, making promises he might not be able to keep... He is definitely blaming Noé for all of that. I wouldn't be surprised if he finds a way of blaming Noé for his romantic entanglement as well, which may be the actual reason he's avoided talking to Noé: he blames him, but he's also supremely embarrassed.

And in the midst of all this confusion and pain who is added to the picture? None other than our one and only Roland!

I think that might be my favorite image of the whole chapter. XD

Earlier in this meta I mentioned that we almost learn more about Roland in this chapter than anyone else, and it's thanks to Vanitas's exchange with him that we do!

The first thing we learn about Roland is something we've already had inklings of in earlier chapters: he's far more tactful and calculative than he would have people believe. He refers to Vanitas as "Vincent" and says Olivier is his coworker. Immediately, he has established that, for one, he's very good with details. He remembers exactly how Vanitas introduced himself and Noé when they first met. Furthermore, he knows Vanitas likely doesn't want to get further entangled in chasseur affairs, so he lets him know that he isn't with a random friend: this is someone potentially dangerous to Vanitas.

Not that it does much good because Vanitas isn't exactly thinking clearly.

This one, singular statement from Olivier is surprisingly revealing! I'd had a headcanon that Roland has had past relationships and it turns out that is absolutely true. Apparently, Olivier not only knows about them, he doesn't care, provided Roland isn't out and about doing anything else. He doesn't say what, specifically, because Vanitas is there, but we already know he's worried about what Roland is doing with the chasseurs and whether he's going to betray the Church. Not so much because he thinks Roland is wrong, exactly, but because he doesn't want any trouble for himself.

These two have an odd relationship. XD Olivier clearly understands the way Roland is, accepts it even, but he draws the line at Roland dragging everyone else into his schemes, hence why he offered to buy Vanitas the coffee in the first place.

Anyway, Vanitas ignores all that because Olivier brought up the only subject he cares about and wants advice on: women.

This is my other favorite image from this chapter. His face is the perfect encapsulation of "What are you doing? I was just trying to get you out of trouble and now you're sitting down? You're going to stay?!" The fixed grin, the panic. This is a thing of beauty.

Naturally, things only get more awkward because that's just the trajectory Vanitas has set for himself in this chapter.

I also just want to point out that the smoking, the string of relationships, the casual dining, the flying, the actual job, all point to Roland being a fair amount older than Noé and Vanitas. Probably mid-20s about? I'm sure that he and Olivier are the same age, regardless, though potentially from different class backgrounds. Olivier is decked out in aristocratic garb and Roland is dressed for flying. That doesn't necessarily mean he's poorer, but the impression I get from him is that he's probably middle class at most. I think there was an extra that mentioned he supports his siblings? I'm not sure now.

Anyway, after those 15 minutes of awkward rambling, Vanitas finally gets around to the question he's been meaning to ask. Apparently, Roland knows all about it.

There's kind of a lot to cover in those three images. Roland has not only had past relationships, he's had several. Judging by Olivier's remark, they've all been remarkably short. One has to wonder if we're talking one-night-stand kind of short or it-lasted-for-a-week-before-my-preaching-became-too-much kind of short. Maybe Mochizuki will enlighten us someday. XD

But the most interesting thing is how hesitant Roland is to discuss Olivier's relationships and how Olivier doesn't even deign Vanitas's question with an answer. Yes, he's popular, but no, he's not going to talk about who he's with and neither is Roland. When Roland says "I'm one thing, but Olivier...?" it could mean a few things: he thinks it makes sense for himself to be "promiscuous" but the thought of Olivier being the same is impossible. Personally, I find this the most likely for now. Alternatively, it's one thing to casually discuss his own affairs, but gossiping about a friend goes against his code of honor and Vanitas is kind of asking a personal question. There is also a third possibility that Roland can't imagine Olivier with a woman. Olivier's popular, but he's not interested. Naturally, Roland wouldn't announce that to the world and it isn't particularly relevant to Vanitas's question anyway.

Whatever the reason, it subtly demonstrates how well the two know each other.

Vanitas finally gets to the heart of things, and it fits in with what I thought happened:

This really was the first time Vanitas saw Jeanne for who she was, as an actual person, and not just someone he can mess with. Before that particular moment, he truly knew nothing of Jeanne. Now, he's finally had a glimpse of her actual personality and it's incredibly genuine, forthright, and strong. Of course, now that he sees that, how can he not find her at least a little appealing? And how can he not now be forced to reckon with his past behavior? He was horrid, there's no getting around it. Regret isn't something Vanitas handles well along with, apparently, emotions in general. Hence his next dilemma:

And at long last, Noé is finally seeing what the problem actually is. He didn't piece it together at Orlok's, but he's now hearing it from Vanitas directly. It's no wonder Noé surreptitiously sits away so he can listen. This whole time he's been wanting Vanitas to explain things to him, not just about the cold, but about love as well.

Roland is trying to be helpful here but, let's be honest, Vanitas is dropping a lot on him out of the blue, so I think it's understandable that he's a little confused right now.

And we finally get to the heart of the whole thing: Vanitas thinks he's a disgusting person. Someone like Jeanne definitely shouldn't love him because the only kind of person who could love him is someone who is as awful as he is and he's now been confronted with the fact that maybe Jeanne isn't. There relationship has a ton of issues, don't get me wrong, but Vanitas isn't seeing that; he's seeing that Jeanne has been kind to him, seems to care about him, and that definitely isn't the kind of person who would love him. Not genuinely.

The whole thing gets even more confusing if we take into account that his decidedly romantic moment with Jeanne reminded him of VotBM. They weren't having a romantic moment, but the discussion of affection, of hugs, were directly intertwined. Until we know more about VotBM I can't say if she was motherly or if things were decidedly more questionable there, but Vanitas must have gotten his twisted ideas about relationships from someone. Did VotBM have a bad relationship with someone? Did his past trauma simply color everything else in his life?

Olivier and Roland are understandably concerned, but it's Noé here that really stands out. He's pieced something together about Vanitas and now understands him a little bit better. After each arc, he and Vanitas have had a small conversation that brings them closer, but so far they haven't had that in this particular arc. My guess is it will be in the next chapter or the one after (since this one was labeled "part 1") and the arc will be wrapped up for good. There is, genuinely, a lot of stuff they need to cover about Gévaudan, Vanitas's relationship with Jeanne, and what they're doing next. There's also the small matter of Noé's injuries....

So, these two are going to have a lot to cover and Roland knows that right now, what Vanitas needs, is someone to talk to that he properly trusts. I almost wonder if he timed his dramatic God speech just so Noé could chase after him to begin with.

This really reads as "Go to him, Gilbert" and that amuses me.

Roland knew Noé was there the whole time (he's observant as we've mentioned) and he knows he and Vanitas have a powerful bond. He himself was inspired so much by it he changed his views on vampires completely. So, logically, he knows Noé needs to talk to Vanitas.

But Roland's motivations are still a bit harder to describe.

This much makes sense. The fact that he's had a string of lovers and doesn't seem particularly dejected by his constant breakups makes it obvious he wasn't particularly attached to any of them. He speaks about love as if he knows what it is, but he's never been that invested in a person to our knowledge. The only person we've seen him spend any length of time with is Olivier and they have a complicated relationship at best. Are we to assume he at least has an attachment to him? He threatened him before, but he also seems fond of him, and Olivier at least seems comfortable around Roland in turn.

And yet, Roland speaks of attachment as if it's a foreign thing to him. We know he has family, we know he has Olivier, he even has God, but like Olivier said: he believes in himself as a follower of God more than God Himself. Perhaps it's best said that the only thing we really know about Roland is that he's confident in himself, his own morals and beliefs.

And I think that's how Vanitas fits into Roland's worldview to a certain extent. Vanitas is a project of sorts: Roland wants to save him, very much in the religious and physical sense, and he knows Vanitas is in danger every day at least physically. Perhaps he worries for his soul as well, not necessarily that he's going to Hell, but that he has lost himself and could "shatter" at any moment.

Oddly, Noé isn't brought up in this conversation whatsoever even though the person Roland showers with blatant affection is Noé, not Vanitas. This could very likely be because he knows Vanitas isn't receptive to that kind of thing; it's a tactic that works great with Noé, but definitely not with his companion and Roland is above all a calculative person.

And that's all I've got for now! I do like that Roland and Olivier dropped their serious conversation about an actual Vampire Eradication Unit to deal with Vanitas's love life. That's pretty supportive. XD Also, there's a Vampire Eradication Unit that Gano is a part of and if that isn't one of the main plot points of the next arc it will be soon enough.

Anyway, I look forward to seeing how Jeanne handled things. It looks like she's done at least moderately better than Vanitas, but most people would. XD

#vanitas no carte #vnc meta #vnc spoilers #Bemused's post #long post

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elencelebrindal · 4 years

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Honest Opinion - Scorpio Milo (Hades)

Buckle up, this is going to be a roller coaster of emotions. Also yes, the Italian dub kept his Italian classic name, Scorpio, though his voice actor changed (his main and best one, Enrico Carabelli, unfortunately passed away).

Overall score (character, not looks): 20/10 Can you tell I love him? Good.

Hades Chapter: Sanctuary

Overall score: 20/10

If you’re thinking “hey, this is not a honest opinion if you play favorites like this”, think again. In this series Milo was one of the absolute best characters I’ve ever seen. His personal growth and characterization since the classic series was absolutely spot on, and he never got involved into any shenanigans. But let’s start from the beginning.

Kanon’s redemption. One of the best scenes I’ve ever seen in this entire franchise, especially regarding the behavior of its characters. The only thing I was pissed off at was the fact that people not familiar with the manga (I’m talking about Kanon saving Athena from Poseidon) might not get what the hell was really going on with Kanon being so ready to protect Athena. And that’s it. Milo was so good in this part. I loved how, instead of following Athena’s request from the get go, he wanted to make sure Kanon wasn’t dangerous. I loved how his personality showed through, as he attacked him to get him out of the Sanctuary dead or alive. It’s not like he was disobeying Athena; he knew Kanon wanted to kill her and almost succeeded, so it makes sense he was angry as all hell at him.

And all his dialogues... with the Italian dub making every line somewhat solemn, this scene was amazing. Milo’s internal monologue about Kanon not responding to his attacks was absolutely beautiful, and you could tell the exact moment he stopped seeing Kanon as an enemy and started testing his resolution. I think the whole ordeal showed us how clever and smart Milo actually is, how faithful to his goddess he can be, and how high he holds the standards of a Gold Saint. It got to the point I didn’t even know if Milo wanted to really kill him or if he was bluffing. I loved that.

Him telling Kanon something along the lines of “I don’t see any traitors here, only a battle companion” was the last bit of dialogue I needed from him to decide he is the best of all the twelve Gold Saints objectively. This is the Italian quote:

Non vedo alcun traditore qui, ma solo un compagno di battaglia. Si chiama Kanon di Gemini, un coraggioso Cavaliere d'oro

He not only let Kanon live, but he forgave him and recognized him as one of his fellows. That is so genuinely kind and understanding, I can’t even comprehend this level of acceptance. He saw the good in Kanon’s heart, and decided “hey, maybe we could get along”. That might be the best thing I’ve ever witnessed a character on Saint Seiya do (aside from Shun).

And now, onto the fight against the resurrected Saints. Can I bring to your attention, right off the bat, how painful had to be for him? I didn’t bring this up with Mu and Aiolia because none of them had any particular ties with those three (if anything, Aiolia should have been deadly mad at Shura and Saga), but Milo? I’m not bringing any kind of shipping and/or fanon stuff into this, but Milo and Camus are canonically (thanks to the classic anime, so from then onward) very close friends. Would you even dare telling me that Milo, upon seeing his friend (who was previously killed by Hyoga and by his own decision to let Hyoga go) sided with Hades, took it lightly and without a care in the world. I know that entire fight showed us a - mostly - indifferent and angry Milo, but seriously. If your best friend died, and you suddenly see him fighting against you, would you be that indifferent?

Yeah, I thought so. But I loved that they showed Milo as angry. Even if there hasn’t been a care in the world for any kind of other realistic reactions, I thoroughly enjoyed (and by enjoyed I mean I was looking at the screen with the most heartbroken expression I could muster) it. Also, let’s not forget he was mad about Shaka’s death as well. And he was clever - and a tad bit suicidal to be honest - enough to suggest using the Athena Exclamation to retaliate the resurrected Saints’ attempt at fighting back using it again. Reasonable? Absolutely not (which is kind of a good thing, because have you ever been reasonable while hurt?). Effective? Hell yeah.

And this brings us to the very next scene, when Athena gave up her life. I’m not going to lie, I was a little upset at Milo here. And at the other Gold Saints. I think I forgot to talk about this in their entries... They literally saw Athena willingly hand the gold dagger to Saga and willingly accept her death, but still wanted to kill their “enemies”. But as much as I’m upset, I’m also understanding of that reaction; they were so hurt, Milo maybe even more than them, that I get why their reaction was to obliterate who led to Athena’s death. God, that scene of Milo crying while strangling Camus destroyed me. More so because I kept thinking “is he crying just because Athena died or is he crying also because he had to kill Camus?”. I don’t think my over-emotional stressed-over-exams brain took it well.

Damn, i just loved how Milo’s personality played a huge role in this thing.

But are we done? Nope. There’s still the fight against Rhadamanthys. There’s still the amount of determination he put into that futile attempt at defeating him. Milo put his life on the line to protect the Bronze Saints and give them enough time to reach the Underworld, knowing he wasn’t going to survive with his cosmo completely drained. It’s the same thing I said for Mu and Aiolia, but with him... I don’t know, with the amount of emotional pain he has to have gone through, that seemingly selfless decision didn’t look like that selfless. My mind took the darkest turn it could have ever taken and told me “what if he doesn’t care if he dies, at this point, since he has really nothing to lose anymore?” and I just... you know the windows xp error sound? That’s the sound my brain made.

Anyways, he went straight to Hell, so everything’s just an assumption.

Hades Chapter: Inferno

Overall score: 20/10

Same thing for him: he gave up his life in order to save Athena and the world, so that full score is fully deserved. It’s a 20 because my opinion is honest but also biased by my love for him. I gave everyone else full points, leave me alone if I want to cheat my own system every once in a while.

Also, can we appreciate how happy he looked? How proud he was of what he accomplished as a Saint? This man was about to sacrifice his life, yet he still smiled. This can also be said of the other Gold Saints, it’s an incredible detail. Milo already had a special place in my heart, but this series made me love him even more.

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #hades chapter #scorpio milo #gold saints #my opinion #honest opinion

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noneatnonedotcom · 4 years

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Magical Girl au chapter 5

in which we get some context for the world

The first thing you learn about fighting the forces of evil is that it never ends, there’s always another monster ready to fight you and you’re just some guy with a sword. Eventually you’ll have to take a vacation no matter how much you want to protect the innocent.

Second thing you learn is you’re always short on cash.Oh some people might take offense to the idea of getting paid for doing good but it’s not like you were asking for a shit ton of cash here. Just enough to pay your bills and buy medical supplies. Currently jaune supplemented his allowance with pit fighting, people thought he was doing it anyways he might as well right? Most of the guys he took down were pathetically easy compared to grimm. He didn’t even need his sword for them.

The third thing you learn is that you’re not the only shmuck who’s figured out that there’s more out there. Nor are you the most dangerous. That dubious honor went to the woman jaune was visiting now. Sallem

“Hey buddy, wrong place” said a girl with green hair. She was an illusion jaune could tell a pretty good one too considering she was real to five different senses. Thing was jaune didn’t just have five sense.

He walked through the girl and stood in front of an empty corner. He knew this was where she was because that’s where the danger was, that’s where the little voice in the back of his head said he should be as far away from as possible and he promptly ignored it.

“I need to see salem” was all he said as the world bled away showing the green haired girl was in front of him again she seemed shocked

Then she was afraid

“Yeah… i’ll just… go get her…?” she slowly said inching away from the obviously dangerous man“Tell her jaune’s here for a visit” was all he said.

Sallem may be a witch who was seeking to control all of vale and possibly the world but she brewed a nice cup of coffee.

“So jaune, come for another glimpse at my beauty?”

“I think i know someone who can use magic” he said cutting to the chase, and seeing the dismissal from the ancient woman.

“Impossible the gods stripped man of magic long ago, your swords are exceptions being from the first age of man and not being human such artifacts can hold their powers, many were enhanced by the now bountiful ambient magic permeating the world. But there are only two people who can in truth use magic”

Jaune frowned “this other person a girl?”

“A man, trust me, i was very thorough in my investigations” she said with a smirk

“Then how…”

He was cut off by salem “it is not well known but the brother gods did have quite a bit of competition after the first destruction of man, many spirits came into being from the faith of these new creatures both faunas and human. In fact you can thank the spirits for the creation of the faunas. Such traits are from these spirits” she took a sip from her coffee “after all the powers they received as demigods are rather plain to all who look. What man wouldn’t want the eyes of an eagle? Or the punch of a pistol shrimp? Or the webs of a spider? These demigods are not too much stronger than your average human though because the spirits who sired or birthed them were weak.”

“So yang’s a secret faunas?” asked jaune immediately berating himself for the slip of her name

“Not necessarily” said salem “not all spirits were animals, some were ideas. Like the sun, or war, or even dragons. Again most of these creatures were weak. An exception to the rule was her of the silver sun. the mother of the silver eyed warriors was worshiped for a very long time before the humans under the brother god’s banners whipped out her worshipers. She’s still around to my knowledge because there are still a few of her descendants running around but her newest children did not inherit her eyes. Only those of the old race were so blessed”

Jaune was silent for a moment “why are you telling me this?”

Salem smiled “because the descendant of the god of fatherhood and fertility should know why ozpin will want him dead”

________________________________________________________________

“you think we could convince jaune to help?” asked ruby to the scoff of weiss and blake both.

weiss because she thought little of jaune for his reputation as a bad boy.

blake because she’d heard about how much of a racist he was, he looked the type. a human so assured of his superiority that he’d go around attacking others. like all the others jaune could be kind to those he knew but underneath blake knew that he was rotten to the core.

she just hoped she could expose him for what he was to ruby and yang before...

before he turned out like adam

besides he probably didn’t believe in ghosts

“unlikely” said Ren speaking up from the end of their new shared table

“yeah” said Nora “jaune-jaune’s got a thing about ghosts monsters and boogeymen”

jaune chose that moment to sit down “well my ears are ringing so what’s up?”

weiss frowned at him “and just where were you all day?”

“worried about me snow angel? don’t worry i was only speaking to an ancient witch bent on ruling the world.”

weiss scoffed but ruby took the opportunity to interrupt “we’re investigating a haunted house!”

jaune promptly stood up and walked away from the table only for yang to stand up and catch him “listen guys you want me to beat up some randos i’m in but there is no way in hell that i’m going into a haunted house

one set of puppy dog eyes from ruby later

jaune stood outside an old decrepit mansion as thunder echoed in the distance “fuck!” he said palming the handle of his dagger

he just knew there was gonna be a massive fucking grimm in there

________________________________________________________________

blake eyed jaune following behind him, she was going to show everyone just who he really was she was going to protect her friends

she had to

“no more adams” she said to herself following the racist in

and there we go i’m finally done with this chapter it was ment to be bigger but i thing the events in the mansion should be thier own thing. plus you guys get the backstory an a few things. be sure to let me know what you think

#rwby au #Jaune Arc #ruby rose #rwby #nora valkyrie #lie ren #blake belladonna #RWBY Magical Girl AU

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lisinfleur · 4 years

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T&T - Chapter 14: Hallowed Be Thy Name

Author’s Notes | Crutch... step... step... crutch - Thank you @youbloodymadgenius for this amazing particle of this chapter! (I could never think of Ivar's arrival without this perfect description of its sound!). By the way, I would like to warn again this is a HEAVY chapter. One of the heaviest I've ever written. Thanks to @honestsycrets as well by the historic/biblical references and for helping me with the whole development of this chapter since I was stuck on how to write it! Words | 3211 ⁑ Warnings: Christian quotes. HEAVY violence, mentions of blood, woman's humiliation, archaic punishment, vengeance, religious mocking. Caution is recommended: potentially triggering content! Keep in mind that the characters' concepts and opinions are NOT inherent to the author!

Crows were sent to communicate their queens the victory was reached and to tell Atli to bring Iliana with him towards Kattegat - Ivar would be consecrated one of the kings in his homelands and he wanted his own people to receive their new queen and know their prince once Kattegat would be the second capital of his domains and center of the lands he would divide with Hvitserk's crown, now about to become heavier. The whole domain the Rus had taken from their hands was now under them both and would be properly centered in order to allow the proper government: the biggest part of Norway would be under Hvitserk's crown, Ivar would remain at Brynjar's lands, and Kattegat would be center, part of both kingdoms, a safe base, and commerce center for both of the crowns and, later on, for the English settlement Hvitserk intended to contact in order to connect their people and all the lands that were conquered by Scandinavian hands.

The celebration of victory took the whole night, but Ivar didn't take real part on it - the last time, he got drunk, but this time, the king remained sober, looking at the sky through the windows of the hall, waiting anxiously for the time to complete his vengeance.

"Sun won't come faster with her chariot just because you want to honor her with your sobriety, brother," Hvitserk mocked.

But Ivar didn't take another sip, holding the horn anyway, but keeping his eyes at the sky outside.

"She won't. But I'm not sober as a sacrifice for her, brother. I want to be here. Completely here. Completely conscious when it happens."

Hvitserk sat beside Ivar's throne - something he remembered doing just a few times when they were together for the last time.

"She turned your mind upside down," he remembered, sipping from his horn.

His mind at the times when his little brother would laugh and feast as the pain was eating his heart and anger poisoning his mind. Hvitserk could still remember sweet Thora. Poor mad Margrethe... Those were wounds he would never have healed in his heart, he knew that. Wounds caused by an ego his brother cultivated.

An ego fed up by that woman; that blonde cockatoo shrunk on the corner of the celebration, crying low as if she had any right for the mercy her lips were pleading the whole night.

"She did. But I gave her doors to enter. Ways to mess up everything inside my brain, my heart. I don't blame her for the monster I became, Hvitserk. But I blame her for the treason... I blame her for setting me a trap. She's a viper. And like a viper, she shall be eliminated." Ivar said.

Icy blues over Katya's figure now.

"What do you intend to do about her?" Hvitserk asked, curious.

"Do you remember Heahmund, Hvitserk?" Ivar answered.

And Hvitserk scoffed, getting up almost instantly, annoyed by the mere remembrance of that bishop he wanted so bad to be the one to kill.

"We spoke a lot about his god," Ivar continued, knowing on Hvitserk's body language that he remembered the bishop very well. "The Christian god and his stories. I've learned a lot about how they say their false god is merciful, kind, able to perform tricks they call miracles..."

"Where are you trying to go with this conversation, Ivar?" Hvitserk asked, now really annoyed with that mention.

He'd heard Ubbe was baptized despite seeing his faith in the old gods was still the same; his own father was touched by those false words. Was his little brother falling for them as well?

"Chill, little brother," Ivar answered, patting Hvitserk's shoulder. "I don't believe a single word of the stories Heahmund told me."

His words tranquilized Hvitserk's heart and his eyes followed Ivar's finger when he pointed Katya on the corner of the hall.

"But she does," Ivar said, catching Hvitserk's attention and increasing his curiosity. "You see... I'm a curious man, like our father once was. But I like to see more than listen to stories, my brother. And I've heard the Christians had spread their stories around our people, forcefully converting and baptizing some of our villagers, pushing some of our countrymen into their false customs. I think..." Ivar made a small pause, looking at Hvitserk and getting his brother's eyes into his own. "I think it’s a good time to show our fellowmen what lies did the Rus bring into our people; to purge this false god out of our lands as I did with his followers."

Hvitserk's expression changed, touched by the malice of the mischievous tone of Ivar's voice.

"What are you planning, Ivar?"

"I wanna make a bet with their false god, brother," Ivar said, sipping from his cup and smiling at Hvitserk before straightening his back at the throne, sounding even more imposing than before. "Let's see if he can fulfill his promises of salvation."

Hvitserk smirked. But his curiosity wouldn't have to wait too long: Sun was about to be born and as soon as the sky started to stain the darkness of the night with the red and orange tones of the dawn, Ivar got up, calling everyone's attention.

"Open the Hall!" he ordered, speaking as the doors were slowly opened for the people outside - the people of Kattegat who were celebrating their former princes' return outside. "And bring me the queen!"

Ivar's potent voice called Katya's attention as every pair of eyes in that great hall was turned towards her.

Her chest filled itself with fear and her eyes were pouring panic in profusion when Ivar's men took her from the pole she was tied to, dragging her carelessly towards the center of the hall.

She tried to get up as Ivar walked towards her with his slow pace.

Crutch... step... step... crutch... The sound of terror slowly flowing through her veins until her worst nightmare was standing in front of her.

The devil itself was smiling at her on Hvitserk's face. Legions of demons surrounding her. Katya swallowed dry. Oleg was dead, her men were dead or gone. She was alone in the wolves' lair.

A lamb for the sacrifice.

She raised her eyes to find Ivar's icy blues injected with something she couldn't really identify. It was a mixture of anger, betrayal, and cruelty she didn't have too long to analyze before he started speaking.

"The woman I loved..." Ivar mumbled, almost as if there wasn't anyone in the hall but the two of them. "The one I raised from slavery into my bed, to stand as a queen by my side."

"Ivar..." She tried to start something.

But Ivar ignored her attempt, running over her voice as if she was nothing but a fly buzzing around his ear.

"Dead and buried by your despicable smile."

Ivar's voice finally gained the tone she was expecting: anger. That anger she knew was buried inside that man's heart and would pour now, strong as a river she expected to see drowning her quick and painlessly.

But Ivar's daggers never reached her neck as Katya expected. Instead, his fingers touched her face tenderly, almost as he was used to doing when she was his queen, and hopes of forgiveness crossed Katya's mind. Maybe he would forgive her crimes. Maybe he could at least let her live.

His fingers slid through her skin and she closed her eyes, swallowing dry once again, allowing Ivar to feel her throat moving against his fingers before he could reach the golden cross in her chest, touching and lifting it for Katya's biggest despair.

For a moment, she wished she had forgiven to put that cross on the last morning.

"The Christian god," Ivar mumbled.

And Katya felt as he pulled the cross against her neck, hurting her nape when the necklace broke against her sensitive skin.

Ivar lifted the cross, showing the object to the hall, speaking to the people around - many of them already wearing one like that.

An order she could remember Oleg had settled not far from that day.

"I've heard many stories of this god... The one whose son was crucified to save the whole humanity from its sins. The merciful savior of mankind," Ivar repeated the words he remembered hearing from Heahmund's mouth about his god. "I've heard stories from his book... One of his priests told me himself that this son of god could perform these... Miracles..." he continued, with a mocking tone full of doubt and contempt, stronger in some strategical words. "Things like healing the blind... The cripple!" Ivar pointed his own legs and Hvitserk scoffed from his position, sitting on the arm of Kattegat's throne with rolling eyes and an expression full of that Christian bullshit Ivar just had started speaking and was already hitting his balls.

"Well," Ivar continued, with Katya and the people's attentive eyes over his speech. "I remember hearing the people of this Christian god used to throw stones on adulterous women. Isn't it right, queen Katya?"

Katya's body became cold like the snow from her homelands in the deepest winter. Her stomach dropped down her belly and she was sure she would throw up if there were something inside her to be forced outside. She swallowed dry once again, feeling tears filling her eye lines, and yet, she nodded, trembling when Ivar smiled at her positive answer, continuing his tenebrous speech.

"I knew I've heard right," he boasted, smiling at the people around and keeping the pace of his story. "I've heard as well, from the priest I'd mentioned, that this... Christ... Even saved one of these whores from being stoned by her people. What were his words, queen Katya? He, who is without sin, cast the first stone, right?"

Katya felt the warm drop slide through her cheek as she nodded again, confirming what Ivar said. Then the second one came, and the third. Soon her cheeks were cut by lines of salty tears of a silent despair that was eating her inside at Ivar's every word.

"Perfect! It's good to see my memory is still in a perfect state. Thank you, queen Katya," Ivar mocked, smiling once again with a small debauched reverence of his head before turning himself to his people once again. "I've heard there are people among my fellowmen who believe in this... New god..." his voice made a small pause full of contempt before he started speaking once again. "You see... The fair people of Kattegat know my family from its core. You all know my father was a curious man and I'm not far from him: the apple tree wouldn't give us a peach, right?" he giggled.

And with him, the whole bunch of men and women around, interested in the new king's speech. Even Hvitserk straightened himself, interested and curious about what bet was his brother talking about earlier at the party.

"Like my father, I like to bet with fate and see by myself the things I hear that exist. You see, my fellowmen, I do not believe in this Christian god or his stories. But who am I to question the gods, right? I've seen Odin by myself, with my bare eyes, and yet, their priest said my gods didn't exist. So, I'm here to give this merciful savior a chance to show himself in front of my eyes... Since I cannot ask him personally to heal my legs as a gift, for a joke I'll ask him to repeat a simpler action his followers insist on spreading like a good proof of his mercy. Here, my friends, is a whore."

Ivar's hand stretched itself towards Katya who looked at the people inside the hall, men and women, some laughing at the way Ivar was introducing her to them. Her crying face stared by many curious and interested pair of eyes as if she was some kind of attraction for their entertainment.

"She may be dressed as a queen, but do not fool yourselves, my brothers," Ivar said, standing behind Katya, causing her shivers to become colder when his hands touched her shoulders. "It's still a whore, whether dressed in noble cloth..."

His fingers gripped the tissue of her dress and Ivar pulled it down, tearing the upper coverage of her clothes, ripping the sleeves apart along with the embroidery, turning the dress into rags that barely could keep Katya's breasts covered.

"Or rags," he continued, with his hands running her skirt, ruining the cloth, ripping and tearing until she was covered with nothing but the remains of what was once a beautiful golden dress.

"Still a whore, whether covered in gold," Ivar continued.

His fingers now pulling her jewels, hurting her ears when tearing off the earrings from them, causing her little squeals of fear when his rough hands pulled the rings from her fingers, throwing the whole bunch of golden pieces towards the crowd.

"Or wearing nothing but her skin," he completed.

And then his eyes acquired a devilish tone when his hand held Katya's braid, pulling her back in a squeak, lifting the long hair to expose it and pull it away from her neck as his other hand pulled a dagger from his belt.

"A whore, my friends," he continued, cruel. "Whether dressing her most beautiful face or naked even from her beauty."

His heavy words preceded the terrifying sensation of his dagger sliding so close to Katya's head as Ivar cut every strand of her hair, unevenly, carelessly, throwing the braid of golden strands on the ground, causing the lines of tears at the queen's cheeks to become thicker as the sobs started to engulfing Katya's breath.

Hvitserk's eyes watched that scene silent as he was chewing carelessly on an apple he stole from beside the throne. It was yet little... Too little, he knew. In Ivar's place? He wouldn't be doing differently with a woman who did what that naked cockatoo did to his brother.

With a small walk forward, Ivar continued, looking at his people with a pompous tone as if he was indeed challenging god himself, despite not believing anyone was really listening to that theater other than his own gods - Loki proud of his mischievous performance, by the way.

"Every man, child, and woman that can come into the hall pick up a stone and open the way to our gates," he ordered.

And it was done: the people started picking up stones on the ground and moving inside and away from the doors, opening a clear path from the throne stage to the principal gates. A distance Katya knew she could run in a few moments if she was quick enough.

Ivar's icy blues turned towards her one more time, but he kept speaking to the people around as Hvitserk got up, picking up a stone himself to go down and stand near the crowd wanting to participate on that game.

"I don't know how much do you believe in your god, dear queen Katya, but I'm up to see if your faith is worthy of my attention: My people, who as long as I know is without sin, shall cast the stones against you, the whore. If you can reach the gates of my Hall, I shall set you free. I'll give you a horse and your weight in silver. And I'll accept your god is real and trustworthy, enough for me to allow his faith to come into this town."

Hvitserk giggled again, in contempt. But Ivar continued - a big smile in his face crowning the theatrical performance he was conducting with his arms open and voice out loud so everyone in the hall could hear his little speech and bet.

"If you fall before reaching the gates, then I'll prove your faith worth nothing but the dimes I'll spend to buy every single cross in this town from my people's hands to melt, clean and fuse into a beautiful ornament to my crutch, so it will serve to always remember everyone in this town who's the man who defied and won the Christian god and proved his existence nothing but a lie."

Katya's eyes stared at the open gates in front of her, but she couldn't miss the faces standing forward, moving and positioning itself at the margins of that small path she would have to cross towards freedom. Men Oleg had enslaved. Women her men had raped with her acceptance. Some had the stones firmly pressed in their clenched fists waiting for the right moment to put on it all the weight of their vengeance for the honor or lives that were stolen from them.

"Whenever you feel ready, dear queen," Ivar mocked her hesitation, smiling at her. "Let's see if your merciful Christ is up to save another whore today."

Some steps back and Ivar could see the smile on Hvitserk's face. He was the first in the queue of the crowd, waiting with hungry eyes for Katya's first steps.

Shyly, she walked to the limit of where the path would start. Her trembling hands gripping the skirt made into shreds. Her eyes contemplated the light of a sunny day outside the door almost as if the sky had opened itself to watch her torment. It was such a little path, not more than thirty steps.

She knew she would never reach those gates.

But what choice did she have? What could she do but beg for God's mercy and try?

Without a warning, she started running towards the doors, causing Hvitserk to miss the moment - along with many others who threw their stones too soon or too late to reach her. But the older prince wasn't stupid and his aim was certain: Hvitserk's stone hit Katya's head and along with the many others that hit her legs, knees, and back, caused her to fall in the middle of the hall, crying under a rain of stones that came from all sides as she crawled towards the gates.

The stones ended before the path. A quarter of it stained in a trail of blood left by her broken body, bruised and parted in many places. The open wounds pouring her life Katya could feel escaping as fast as her hopes to do more than brush her fingers near the last steps before the gates.

In her last moments, the sound of terror came again almost like derision, getting closer as if the fear of its approaching wasn't completely gone now.

Crutch... step... step... crutch... step... step... crutch. Katya's blurred vision still allowed her to see when Ivar hanged the necklace with her cross from his fingers, looking down on her as if she was nothing but cattle at his feet.

"A stone for a whore. A dime for a lie. Bring me your crosses, Kattegat. Odin's sons are ruling these lands once more."

He let her necklace fall by her side and stepped on it when walking outside. Crutch... step... step... crutch - the feared sound was going away now.

Along with all the other sounds.

Along with all the light.

My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Katya's mind died out without an answer.

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x OC #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #T&T

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wenchuong · 5 years

Text

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Ch.1

Rose firmly believed that everything magical happened at night. Ever since she could remember, the only time she ever felt truly like herself was when everyone else had turned off their worlds and gone to sleep.

When she was 13, Rose’s parents had gotten divorced, and her mother had uprooted them from Seoul to Los Angeles. The only thing that stopped her tears was climbing onto the roof of their new apartment building in the dead of night to look at the tall, spindly palm trees swaying in the Santa Ana winds. The air smelled faintly like jasmine, and the city lights twinkled cheerily at her, as if trying to help her feel marginally less alone.

When she was 16, Rose was in New York when she had lost her virginity and gotten her heart broken all in the same night. Numb, she walked around the city aimlessly until she happened to see a sign for a model management company promising money, travel, and the opportunity to change her life. She remembered thinking that she would do anything to take her away from here, away from her life.

And when Rose was 22, she happened to be in Tokyo, at 3am, when she met him - the boy who would change her entire life.

Ch. 1 -- Serendipity

Can’t eat that. Can’t eat that. Nope, not that. Not that either. Rose let out a groan of frustration as she walked past rows of snacks, onigiri, and ramen that she wasn’t allowed to eat. After constant dieting for photoshoots and runway shows, it should have been easy for her to stop in a 7/11 and not practically drool over all the forbidden fruit. And yet here she was, in black sweatpants and sweatshirt, staring longingly at a cup of Shin ramen like the world’s hungriest ninja. To be fair, it had been an especially long day of fittings. As the new face of Dior, she was spending a week in Tokyo to shoot the multi-part campaign, each shoot promising to be more stressful than the last. Rose had been preparing herself for months now, and a cup of hot, savory ramen was not going to be her undoing.

“Ding,” the store’s door chime sounded, and the muffled noises of other night owls looking for snacks broke the pleasant silence. Unbothered, Rose continued to stare daggers into the ramen, not noticing that someone was standing right beside her until he muttered, “There’s only one left.”

“Huh?” she asked, startled.

“Oh, sorry. I was talking to myself,” he responded in slightly accented Japanese.

Rose turned to fully look at the mystery boy, dressed in all black with a face mask on, hair falling over his eyes, just like her. She couldn’t help but giggle. “We’re matching,” she said in Japanese with a bright smile that crinkled her eyes into half moons.

Surprised, he lifted his head to look at her, at her long ash-brown hair, at her glowing skin, and at her eyes that he was certain were the color of liquid sunsets. Wow, he thought.

“You can have the ramen. I’m not allowed to eat it anyways,” she continued.

His brain was still stuck on liquid sunsets when he choked out a reply. “Why?”

He watched her scrunch her nose cutely as she responded. “I’m on a diet. I’ll just get soup or something.”

Pouting, she started to walk away from him. Every muscle in his body tensed, screaming at him to make her stay, if only for another second.

“Wait!”

She turned around hesitantly and saw him holding the cup of ramen.

“What if we split it?”

She cocked her head to the side but didn’t respond. He couldn’t help but think cute cute cute.

He continued, “it’s half the calories…?”

She furrowed her eyebrows at him, clearly weirded out that a stranger just asked to split ramen with her, but she barely had a chance to respond before her stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl. Traitor.

He let out what she guessed to be a snort.

“Fine. But- ” She snatched the ramen from him. “-I’m making it! I can’t trust a stranger to make my precious ramen.”

He shook his head, “You mean our precious ramen!”

She cracked a grin and skipped down the aisle, going to the register to pay.

“Wait! I’ll pay.”

“That’s very gentlemanly of you, but since you’re being nice enough to share, it’s my treat.”

He looked ready to fight her on it, but before he could move, she grabbed him by his sweatshirt sleeve and dragged him over to the eating counter.

“Sit.”

He huffed and sat down.

She smiled warmly at him. “Good boy.”

His heart lurched into his throat. So endearing.

He watched as she paid and prepared the ramen. Everything she did was graceful. Even though she was right — they were in fact wearing matching outfits — her long legs, tiny waist, and the little peek of her abs made her look irresistibly sexy. He’d seen plenty of beautiful girls, but none of them made him feel so….warm.

He ached to touch her, to run his fingers through her soft hair, to hear her giggle again, to stay there in the convenience store and know all her secrets, to tell her all his secrets.

He couldn’t remember ever being so affected by a girl before, especially not a girl he met 5 minutes ago, and he was still thinking about it when she was back, steaming cup of ramen in one hand and pair of chopsticks outstretched in the other.

She spoke while he was rubbing his chopsticks together, “I’m Rose by the way.”

Rose. He rolled it around in his head and concluded that her name was beautiful too. He reflexively went to remove his face mask and tell her his name, but his hand stopped mid-motion, a million thoughts running through his head. What if she knew who he was and turned into a scary fangirl? Even worse, what if she knew who he was and hated him? What if, what if, what if…

Rose knew the strange boy was going through a little crisis, since normally guys would jump to give her their name, usually followed by their phone number and a horrible pick up line, so she played it super cool and pretended to be focused on her chopsticks as she snuck peeks at him.

After another second, he made up his mind that the risk was worth it. So taking a leap of faith, he slid off his hood and pulled down his mask.

“I’m Jungkook.”

He had a great face. Flooffy hair, big doe eyes looking into Rose’s intently, and very soft, kissable lips—wait, what?

She allowed her eyes to trace his sharp jawline once — self control! — before finding his eyes again.

“Jungkook? That’s Korean, right?”

Quickly covering up his surprise that she didn’t seem to know who he was, he smiled timidly back at her.

“Yea.”

She smiled widely this time, as brilliant as the sun.

“I’m Korean too! We can stop using broken Japanese to talk to each other.”

He laughed then, and Rose internally squealed when she saw his cute, bunny teeth.

A little shy, but curious nonetheless, Jungkook asked, “Do you live in Korea then?”

“Sort of. I have an apartment in Seoul, but I travel a lot for work, so I sort of live everywhere and nowhere. What about you?”

“I live in Seoul, but I’m kind of the same, traveling all the time.” He was still cautious of revealing too much. He didn’t think she was pretending not to know him, so he wanted to protect this refreshing anonymity for just a little while longer.

He was about to ask her another question when they were interrupted by the jarring sound of an iPhone alarm.

“Ramen’s done!”

Rose practically dropped her phone in excitement while silencing her timer. As if he wasn’t already overly fond of her, she had to go and do a little dance while tearing off the lid and stirring the noodles, making him swoon.

She could feel his eyes staring when she glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “What? This is my happy dance.” He only chuckled.

She twirled a huge bite of the steamy, spicy, delicious noodles and opened her mouth wide, only to be interrupted by his chopsticks rudely stopping hers.

“Hey!”

“Shouldn’t the oldest get the first bite?”

Rose put her chopsticks back in the cup, and her eyes turned sharp. Uh oh, Jungkook activated sassy mode.

“First off, we’re not in Korea so those rules don’t apply. Second, you’re definitely not older.” Triumphant, Rose waited for a comeback.

Smirking, Jungkook only asked, “What year are you?”

Not about to be fooled, Rose countered, “You first.”

“How about we both say it on 3?”

Exasperated and hungry, Rose agreed.

“1…2…3…”

“’97”

“Ha!! We’re the same age.”

She quickly turned her attention back to the ramen. Considering for a second, she held up the folded ramen lid to him. “We can take the first bite together, if we drop the honorifics.”

Not really caring who takes the first bite, Jungkook only wanted to get to know her better, and he was more than happy to get closer to her. “Deal.”

If anyone were to walk by the 7/11 in Ginza at 3am that night and look into the window, they would have seen two people, heads bent toward each other, eyes gazing into each other’s and smiles growing on their lips as the steam from a cup of ramen warmed their already blazing cheeks. The fluorescent lights cast them in a warm glow, and time itself seemed to slow to honor the serendipity that brought these two souls together so that their story could finally begin.

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #rosekook #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #park chaeyoung #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook au #blackpink rose #jeongguk #the most beautiful moment in life #bedtime stories

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pen-of-roses · 4 years

Text

Broken Fates Excerpt

Pt. 10 From Chapter 1: The Lost, Lynn

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Why had he agreed?

It’ll be fine, it has to be fine. Years had passed after all, surely no one would or could remember him? Right? Or would they still try to kill him? For being a failure to the Gods, for not stopping all of this, for—

The tent disappeared around him, trees taking the place of fabric, leaves, grass, and dirt overtaking the mat. Twigs decorated the light brown hair and clothes of a stranger. The same stranger from earlier with the hazel eyes, who now knelt before him, but the fear was replaced by a tilt up of the chin and brows set in a look of defiance. There was something familiar about them too. But they had never met.

“Who?” He was back in the tent alone almost as soon as he’d opened his mouth.

Speaking of problems. At least he could return knowing he wasn’t a failure. Just late. But who knows, maybe that’ll be enough of a reason for them to still hate him?

His head dropped back into his hands, palms pressing into his eyes. He could do this. Well, had to do this, considering they hadn’t left much of a choice. But as she had said, they were helping people, it had to be done. And they were the best.

The stranger’s face still lingered.

Finding his notebook in his bag, he opened it to first blank page and started to draw. He wouldn’t be able to get any of the colors right, but the sketch alone would be enough of a reference if—if what? Somehow, he met them? What would he even say?

“Hello, you’re the stranger I’ve been having visions about. No, I don’t what they mean, but they, and therefore are probably, well, important?”

“Who’s important?” Avery stood in the entrance in her bright pink coat, with two cups of—

“Please tell me that’s not coffee.”

“You’ll thank me later, just drink.” Handing the cup off, she sat, hovering, but not quite touching, over his shoulder. “Now who’s important? And who’s that?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Oh, one of the newbies then?”

“No it’s--who made this?”

“If it’s that bad, just give it here! See if I do anything nice for you ever again.”

“No, no it’s good! Go away!”

“Fine, fine!” She took the book while he drank, studying the picture. “You still haven’t answered who this is. Wait, they kind of look like that kid we met in the apothecary. Did you draw him because he tried to steal your dagger? Or is it a parent or sibling?”

“What? No, I mean, well. It was a face from a—” vision, but he couldn’t say that. Not yet. Looking at it now, they did look a lot alike, as if the kid had grown up several years. “Yeah, maybe that’s it, I had a dream about that kid because he left such an impression on me from that.” That had to be it. He had said he wanted to fight too so that was why he was seeing the sword. Maybe it was guilt too. It seemed like his fault after all.

And the other one?

“Whatever you say Goldie.” He jumped slightly at her voice, causing some of the coffee to spill. Which naturally earned a snort from her and a curse from him. “Come on let’s get this tent down.”

“What about my shirt?”

“What about it?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t!”

The tent came down easily enough. Hours later, they had gathered most of the needed supplies and had acquired horses alongside a rough idea of the direction to head in. It only took that long because of his own agitation. Of course, the whispers hadn’t helped anything. Avery had taken over, and he had gone to wait at the gate in peace. Well, that had been the plan, though Marcus seemed to have other ideas.

“So, you’re finally heading back there, huh?”

“Rumors get around here fast. Who told you?”

“Does it matter? It’s true anyway. Question’s on if you’re coming back.”

“Well, what did you bet on?” He crossed his arms, staring him down.

“Yeah, but only ‘cause she’s going with you. Everyone knows she’s the reason you’ve gotten this far.”

“Thank you, for your utter lack of faith in me.”

“Just sayin.”

“I have no intentions of staying there. Or breaking down for that matter. That place means nothing to me, it’s just a job.”

“Whatever you say.”

Avery’s braids were a comforting sight after that. Whatever he said didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what any of the people here said, he’d be back in time and prove that everything was fine. He was fine. He was.

“Wait.” They had started down the same path he took to the beach, and that earlier pull had returned in full force. If not stronger now. And she had just made to turn down that path. “This is where we’re heading?”

“According to the oh so specific directions I got! Why?”

“Isn’t this known Fae land?”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“No, of course not. It’s just...” his legs moved on their own, guiding him and his horse further down the path.

“Hey, how do you know where we’re going?”

“A feeling?”

“Even your memory’s not that good—”

“No, it’s, well, I think it’s time we had that talk finally.”

Broken Fates Tag List: @dailydoseofkreamer @seawolfscript @norahammen

Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#writeblr #writing #amwriting #excerpt #wip excerpt #broken fates excerpt #the lost excerpt #lynn #avery #the chapter is done!#as always not sure how I feel about it #might change some thing later like what exactly lynn and avery were doing before this #when the visions started #etc #but for this draft #i'm happy

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kewltie · 5 years

Text

The blood hasn’t dry from his sword yet when he comes for Izuku’s head next.

Izuku doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even hesitate as he looks up and meets the gaze of the man who is called the Scourge of the West. Blond hair spun from gold, red eyes akin to the most precious rubies, defined cheekbones that cut across his face and a tall well-built physique framed by several scars of past battles; he is a magnificent figure to behold.

His towering and ominous figure is dyed in color of those he had killed on his way here like pigs to a slaughterhouse but the holy flames of Zcar that surround him is nearly blinding. Blessed by the Light, but forsaken their grace, Bakugou is a godless heathen who had sinned enough for even the gods had abandoned him.

He’s a monster. What a beautiful wretched creature, he is. He has absolutely no right to look like that and commit such atrocities. Even the staunchest heart might fall into temptation for him.

“You won’t kill me,” Izuku states, his words are grounded in an unshakeable certainty that even heaven couldn’t move.

Bakugou’s footsteps falter right in front of Izuku as he cocks his head in interest. “I won’t?” he muses. “Do you want to test my blade then, priest?” His tone is mocking and full of derision. “I already drew enough blood on this holy ground so why would you be the sole exception?”

“Because I saw it,” Izuku answers him dutifully from the floor. “You were in my dreams. The northern campaign, the siege of Llamus, the subjugation of Florine. I saw it all as though I was there myself when you laid waste to those places. So, I know you, milord, more than I know anyone else.”

Bakugou’s eyes darken to a muted red that reminds Izuku of dried blood. “You’re an oracle,” he says flatly, the tip of his sword is raised toward Izuku’s neck. “The Voice of the Nines. Child of the Gods.”

Izuku lowers his head. “I am but their servant and messenger in this mortal realm,” he says solemnly.

“And what did they tell you about me, Oracle?” Bakugou smirks. “Do you think your measly gods can do anything to stop me?”

Izuku smiles and it’s a brittle one. “I do not wish to harm you.”

Bakugou snorts in disbelief. “You--? Harm me?! Ha!” Shaking his head ruefully, he glares at Izuku. “You’re not the one with a blade pointed toward your throat, Oracle,” he says heatedly. “So chose your next words carefully. I bow to no man, no kings, and especially to no fucking annoying deities who are all absolutely useless.”

Izuku doesn’t flinch, but it’s a near thing. “You won’t kill me,” he says again, voice steady and even as his heart rattles behind his ribcage, “because you need me. I see all, not just you, my lord. The world is laid bare to me.”

For a brief second something too quick for Izuku to catch in time flashes in those fiery eyes. “You’re offering your service to me,” Bakugou says, and it’s not a question.

Izuku’s eyes drop to the floor as he takes a long shuddering breath. His head jerks up once more and he touches the cold bloody blade in front of him.

The sword doesn’t sing. It screams at him. Voices of so many lost souls who were all cut down by this blade are warped into an amalgamation of resentment, anger, and sorrow lashing out at him. Touching it alone hurts Izuku like several thousand needle pressed against every inch of his flesh.

But Izuku perseveres on anyway, holding the tip of the blade between his fingers. “I know you want to unite this continent under your rule and I can make it happen,” he says.

Bakugou raises a brow, lips pursing in displeasure. “You think I can’t do it on my own?!” he demands.

“I think,” Izuku pauses briefly, catching his breath as the sting from the sword resonates deep inside him, “you will conquered this continent in your lifetime and by the time you’re done all that the sun rests on will be yours. But your journey there will be arduous. Dangerous. Wrought with many hardships.”

“There will be many deaths. It may not be yours,” he continues, keeping his voice steady, “but death will come for your people. For your closest friends and allies. While many will fall under your blade, many more will lose their life trying to make your dream come true. Death stalks you, my lord. It won’t come for you personally, but everyone else in your inner circle is fair game.”

Bakugou rips the sword away from Izuku’s grip and he stomps forward, grabbing Izuku’s wrist with his free hand. “Is that a threat?!” he roars.

“It’s your future,” Izuku explains, holding his gaze even as Bakugou’s grip on him turns painful. “I see all and the path you walk is bloody and filled with corpses. Many of them are your enemies, but there are also your friends and allies among them.”

Izuku doesn’t struggle against Bakugou’s hold. “You may be the scourge of this land, but to your beloved people you’re their god and king and they would die for you,” he tells Bakugou. “Let me help you and there will be fewer deaths in your future.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow. “With my army, I’d stormed your sacred temple, killed your Divine, and spit on the shrine of your gods so why do you want to help me?” he asks, suspicious clear in his voice. “What do you get out of all this?”

Izuku drops his gaze for a moment, breathing in every drop of confident he doesn’t quit feel. “Because I believe I can change you,” he breathes. “That I can salvage your wretched soul from damnation and that alone may save the world.”

Bakugou leans his head back, his entire body trembling. It’s not from anger. It’s laughter. “Save me?!” he demands incredulously. “You think you can save me? Fix me up like I’m one of your broken dolls?” He sneers, squeezing Izuku’s wrist for good measure. “Oracle, you have too much faith in your gods. Or is it because you think too highly of yourself?”

“No,” Izuku shakes his head, “I have faith in you. In your capacity to love.”

Bakugou’s lips twist as his eyes glow with something akin to fire, but Izuku cuts in before he can open his mouth. “I know, without a doubt, of your deep love for your people and your homeland,” he asserts, holding back a grimace as his wrist starts to bruise under Bakugou’s forceful grip, “so if you can even spare a drop of it to the world then there will be fewer deaths in the future.”

“You--“ He drops his hold on Izuku, turning his crimson eyes on Izuku with a burning intent, but somewhere there is also a curious interest. “You’re fucking crazy. But.” He pauses, considering. “I don’t want to kill you, yet, just so I can see you fail and fail.”

“Let me tell you this, Oracle,” he continues, stepping forward right into Izuku’s space, “you can try but all your efforts will amount to nothing. You will live and breathe beside me as you watch everything you love and know burn to the ground. Not even your gods can help you then.”

He extends a hand out and touches Izuku’s cheek. It’s hot. Searing to the touch as if flames are licking his skin in a mockery of a caress. “Know this, by giving yourself to me you’re mine now, Oracle. I will have you until you breathe your last breath.”

Izuku covers Bakugou’s hand with his own, pressing both their hands to his cheek as though he can brand Bakugou’s touch on his skin. “Then, I will make sure I live a long and prosperous life,” he says, staring right into Bakugou’s unforgiving gaze.

A smile is wrung from Bakugou’s face, softening the severity of his looks. It makes him young. Wholesome even like someone Izuku would pass on the street and stop for a moment to look back. It’s the first smile Izuku had seen from him and just for a breathless moment, Izuku’s heart waver ever so slightly.

Tonight, the temple had bled and fell to a man who the gods had long forsaken but to Izuku, Bakugou meant redemption. He knew that this day would come since the first time he had first dreamt of a boy spun from fire and brimstone many years ago. Their path was destined to cross.

But it is Izuku who chosen not to raise a sword against him. Blood begets blood. Death will only bring more death. Izuku’s choice is not pure or kind. His heart is too soft and malleable to cut a man down. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone even if that mean he have made a deal with the devil.

Perhaps he is making a worser choice in the end by not taking the dagger hidden in his sleeve and stab it right into Bakugou’s heart right now in order to end his march of tyranny, but Izuku had took his chance and hope to the gods that this is the right choice for him and the world.

When is a monster not a monster? Oh, they never are.

#fic snippet #bakudeku #fic: (oh my darling i sing to you) lullaby for the wretched and the damned

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jackbabewang · 5 years

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Two worlds 03

part two

Members: Jaehyun x Reader

Word count: 1,407

”If you can love the wrong one so much, just imagine how much you can love the right one.”

“Who is this guy you’ve been hanging out lately?” The question is everywhere, from everyone, your friends never stopped wondering. You’re just as curious. Was it something that wasn’t supposed to happen? Does it even deserve the many doubts? Why was it even under their control?

“I like him.” That’s all. No need for words that are extravagant and fancy to summarize your feelings, it’s just that simple.

Pairs of eyes grew double in their sizes from the revelation. “How about Lucas?” You’ve seen this coming either.

Your circle of friends, or people that heard of you, and him, knew that there’s something going in between. It wasn’t official but it’s the kind of relationship where people understood and agreed that you were his, and he was yours. There wasn’t a label to it, but they deduced you will end up as a couple, eventually, or maybe you guys already did. Those were only their thoughts. Well, it’s not like you never had feelings for him either. You do. Scratch that. You did.

“Wait wait wait… Did you guys do the do that night?” Ten holds out his hand to gather your attention. And he started the frenzy.

“Making love, having sex, fucking. Which one?” Johnny counts on his fingers.

You could only roll your eyes. “None. We didn’t do anything.” The objection totally killed their mood. They were expecting to hear stories about how well he did in bed, and maybe making you divulge information of his size.

“I clearly saw you two walking upstairs and you said no? What were you doing inside then? Having tea party and playing dress up?” Ten scoffs in disbelief.

At the corner of your eyes, Yuta had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek and his hand jerking back and forth. A gesture that everyone knew well of.

“No!” You swat him over the head, “Jaehyun isn’t like that.”

“Yeah. He definitely isn’t.” Another voice joined in and you’re like a deer in headlights.

Apparently Ten hasn’t yet to notice the presence so he continues, “I mean… Jaehyun seems like a good guy but men do have their needs-” That is until Yuta drags him away to avoid the growing tension.

“How ironic it was to witness my own sweetheart going down for someone. At my own party.” He didn’t even bother to mutter a quick ‘hello’. Not like he would anyway. He’s practically staring daggers at you, a corner of his mouth raised in a smirk. His entire existence radiating an offensive smugness.

Right, you kind of forgotten that he was there. For sure he will be, he’s part of the fraternity anyway. You didn’t see him; he did. Certainly, he wasn’t very happy to see you getting all touchy with your guest.

“Lucas, it’s not what you think-”

“Why? Have you lower your standards now that you’re preying on the nerds?”

Without a second thought, your hand strikes sharply across his face in response to the insults. Expressing your disapproval towards his indirect slut-shaming and rude behavior. Most of all, you don’t like the way he addressed the latter.

“Y/N, you’re laying your hands on me over some geek? Are you even serious?” His eyes snapped back, anger rippling through. “This is just plain stupid,” his body shook slightly as he laughs in a mocking manner. “I don’t know what kind of tricks you’re pulling this time. You’re just making yourself a laughing stock.”

You gave an impatient shake of your head. “It doesn’t matter.” This is an unexpected transformation of you, for he thinks that you’re out of your mind, getting all guarded and stood up for a guy that he never imagined would’ve become his rival. A guy most probably he never even heard of.

Before he can make more malicious comments on you, or him, you walk away. It’s always been like this, this on and off relationship with Lucas. And most of the time it just went off, all because of that tongue of his. He could never hold back himself from anger, lashing out at whoever and whomever. The heated conversation you had just magnified the many reasons why you and him will never turn out to be the ‘package’ that everyone assumed you will be.

Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared. Being brave means you are scared, really scared, badly scared. The idea of ending whatever between you and him crossed your mind for countless times, even if it means losing the person that you once loved. You have the urge but not the guts to speak up, fearing that you won’t be able to cope with the consequences so you held on until then. You’re not going to lie and say it will be okay, because at first it won’t. At first it will hurt so damn bad that you can barely breathe. It will hurt so damn bad that you will second-guess yourself, but you did the right thing. Letting someone go that is toxic to you is the right choice.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jaehyun whispers, his voice barely audible. There’s no need for him to increase the decibel anyway, you’ve got the whole place to yourself—fifth floor of the library, the silent study zone where no one would stay there unless it’s nearing finals period. The table at the far end of the area, practically a blind spot, a space just for you two. Studying, if it was even possible in your case; random conversations, cat naps or simply enjoying each other’s presence.

“Nothing.” Your lips flexed into something that almost passed for a smile. He wasn’t convinced in the way his face fell into a small frown. It was like he knew you so well that the effort you tried to mask your emotions were unnecessary. Feeling bare and naked under his gaze, like an open book that he’d be able to finish in the blink of an eye—even if it’s a thousand pages.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your hand wanders to his, fingers laced and you pull it closer to have your cheek resting against his warm skin. You always find comfort in these little things.

Jaehyun inches forward, leaving you both in centimeters apart and his unoccupied hand caresses your hair, to holding your face gently. He just knew all the right ways to touch you. The butterflies in your stomach were going wild. But it’s washed away alongside your goodbyes.

‘After rain there’s a rainbow, after a storm there’s calm.’ What a lie. It was too early for you to be happy, too late for you to regret. When you saw Jaehyun holding someone but you in his arms, you broke. Literally.

She was someone who is entirely different from you. An opposite. You didn’t know her, but you could tell, she must have meant a lot to him. He was comforting her in a manner he did to you back then, maybe a little gentler, with much delicateness and with love. She’s petite and vivacious, looks decent but well-mannered—the type of girls that he would consider as a candidate for a girlfriend. And it hits you like a truck. She must be his first love. It was never mentioned that their ‘breakup’ was recent. Judging the way they hold each other, it seems like they’ve gotten back together.

The roses to your heart crushed, withered and dry. They turn to dust. Their scent, their fragrance is no more. You’re seriously scared to catch feelings for anyone anymore. No matter how good it’s going or how faithful that person is at the time, it seems like whenever you get attached everything just seems to go wrong. For Lucas and for Jaehyun. You gave them part of you and they discarded it like it meant nothing.

Maybe it was just you overanalyzing things all this while. You thought Jaehyun loved you the way you love him. You thought the kisses were a way of him returning his feelings; returning the feelings to have it kept within yourself.

Maybe Lucas was right, everyone was right. You both were not meant for each other in the first place. The difference between you and him is still a million miles.

You felt the pain in your chest and there’s nothing you can do to stop the aching. It feels like death, somewhere your heart bursts and your lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to your brain and only raw panic.

Can God see me cry here?

part four

#it didnt turn out like it was in my head #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct imagines #nct stories

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theonceoverthinker · 6 years

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OUAT 3X11 - Coming Home

Will Pan take over Storybrooke and turn it into PAN-archy?!

...I’m gonna miss this arc for more than PUN reason!

Anyways, let’s close out the fun and talk about feels and semi-smart things under the cut!

Press Release

In the Winter Finale episode, the race is on to stop Pan from enacting another curse on the residents of Storybrooke, which could kill every living soul in town.

Main Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness

Past

So this segment is made of mini segments, so I’m gonna give mini reviews for all of them!

Snow and Charming: Blue, for all of her asshole-y beauraucracy, can be so vague and platitude-y when she wants to be. It’s not too bad here. BUT just like David’s speech in that same scene, it’s kind of the point that it’s vague, but comforting all the same. David’s was definitely the better of the two speeches.

Killian, Smee, and Tink: Okay, so now we’re given a LOT more info on Killian’s stay in Neverland. It looks like he wanted to leave Neverland as soon his interactions with Bae were done. I wonder when he decided to incorporate the Dreamshade though. BUT, in terms of the snippet itself, it’s pretty serviceable as a “look how far we’ve come” counterpart for both Killian and Tink. They’re both mean enough and hopeless enough.

Henry and Mary Margaret: ...First off, I love how Henry gets out of explaining anything about his homework! XD Second and more seriously, I think that this was the most necessary of the segments. It comes back and shows a starting point for Henry, the catalyst for so many characters on the show. I ADORE Emma and love her as the Savior, but I do think that at times, Henry was more of this turning point for characters and seeing where he took off was so important.

Rumple and Belle: “My ending shall not be a happy one.” I didn’t like this line. Literally, the entire reason Rumple cast this curse was to find Bae and make his ending a happy one. And it’s not like Rumple ever lost faith in that happening, so what the hell? Like, this line was just a weird character contradiction (Different than a plot hole) and it makes the scene threaten to fall apart.

Emma’s Pregnancy: I loved the revisiting of this scene and its post-memory change revision. It’s so heartbreaking to see Emma believe that she can’t take care of Henry, but also beautiful that she wants to give him his best chance, no matter what.

Present

Tink’s take down of Pan’s shadow is so satisfying! The music that accompanies it and everyone believing in her is just beautiful! It’s also the only time where flying is truly framed as whimsical without something darker being below the surface and that’s something desperately needed in this pretty freakin’ dark episode.

Pan is fucking brutal. From his speech about how much of a leech he saw Rumple as to the cuff to “down boy,” he proves himself more here than anywhere else to not only be a psychological monster, but a full-on monster. His strip down of Rumple in their scene at the shop is horrifying, especially given that this is RUMPLE! Rumple, the biggest threat in the series until Pan, was left sniveling in a corner at the end of the scene.

Rumple’s the big dog in this episode. It’s his moment that’s given the most gravitas and serves as what amounts to the climax of the story (And at little over the halfway mark at that) and for good reason. His arrival at the conclusion of what has to happen in order to save everyone was ingeniously reached. I have a lot more to say about that, so we’ll get to it when we talk about arcs.

So, here’s something I want to point out about Rumple’s big scene -- something that harkens back to why I often make a point of saying “fuck plot holes:” From a plot and story perspective, it makes no fucking sense. Why could only the dagger kill Pan? Why did Rumple have to die for Pan to have to die? This shit is never explained. But here’s the thing and why it and the larger aspect of plot holes matter so little to me: IT DOESN’T MATTER. The important thing about this scene is the climax of Rumple’s emotional journey -- Rumple “definitively” choosing love over power. It’s a point of emotional culmination and as it stands, it’s one of the most powerful scenes in the entire show! Rumple stops being cryptic and communicates to those he loves about what has to happen. It’s a big display and it hits its mark perfectly!

Insights - Stream of Consciousness

-Okay, so weird contradiction in the press release. Pan says he’s not gonna kill everyone, but the press release says he will.

-“The Black Fairy’s wand.” I wonder, did Tinkerbell know they were related? Like, as soon as Rumple talks, Tink knows exactly what he needs.

-”I should pay my respect to Blue, after all.” Tink, honey. You are too pure.

-Dude...those freakin’ unicorns! They’re so cute, but also...OW because of all of the shit that went down with Maleficent!

-”It’s not a weapon...in the traditional sense.” Damn. That line hits hard given Killian’s alcoholism.

-”Is that the best you’ve got?” Killian, you cannot say that with such an adorable smile and not make me love you even harder!

-David! Saving his bro!!! Yasss!

-I love the adorable way Tink just plops the Shadow into the fire! It almost looks like an accident and it’s so cute! XD

-”It was for Emma.” So I’m not sure if I like this line because Killian’s crush on Emma is so freakin’ obvious OR if I’m critical because Tink hasn’t really seen Killian and Emma crushing on each other all that much.

-”I might have been overly strict.” UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE MILLENIUM!

-Okay, Blue is such a bitch, but I like how she entrusts Fiona’s wand to the one person who will be super discerning over Rumple’s actions.

-”I haven’t forgotten about all that, by the way.” Dude, if Pan’s curse was never cast, then these guys should’ve gotten group therapy. Archie would’ve been rich af!

-”Unfinished family business.” *Underworld flashbacks ensue*

-*Henry puts away a family tree worksheet* ...You’re gonna need a bigger worksheet, Henry. XD

-I have a LOT of Regal Believer headcanons concerning how Henry became so unhappy prior to Season 1.

-”And what exactly do you think fairytales are?” THIS and the words that follow serve as what Jefferson’s speech to Emma in “Hat Trick should’ve been. A bit desperate, but actually communicating humanity rather than being an asshole-y smart aleck that has more in common with Sherlock than a father.

-”I’ve got his scent.” Good move using Granny for tracking!

-”That’s why is so easy for you to strut around and pose now, isn’t it?” Bitch, please. Rumple was strutting around and posing long before you had that cuff on! It’s his thing!

-”Pulling away my name.” BITCH! You gave him that shitty ass name!

-Rumple! Cut off your hand! Then you and Killian can be besties!

-What the fuck was up with that weird coma Regina had?

-Aww. Killian’s standing by himself. :(

-”The only way for you to die is if we BOTH die!” Why?

-”Do we need to start preparing our souls, ‘cause mine’s gonna take some time?” I’m stuck between raising an eyebrow at Killian’s quip when Rumple just fucking died and laughing out loud because it’s a really funny quip. XD

-I love that Neal/Henry hug!

-The memories line didn’t make any sense. Everyone remembered what happened to Pan on the Enchanted Forest side and Emma and Henry had their memories altered. So what was the point of this section?

-And the last goodbye is from Snow! Awww!!!

-Tbh, that opening shot of New York City is the least appealing shot of the city that I’ve ever seen.

-Damn, Emma. You get to wake up at 8:15 for work. I envy that.

-And the modern music has returned! And it cuts out right as Killian appears!

-Emma’s got such cute PJ’s!

Arcs - How Are These Storylines Progressing?

The Mission to Save Henry - Our story concludes today! The pacing for this arc was just marvelous. I hate when people disparage the arc as being boring because holy hell, it isn’t! Every bit of this arc grew on itself in some way. Even episodes like “Good Form” and “Ariel,” which weren’t heavy in terms of plot progression were in terms of character growth. This arc was so nicely balanced and well handled, carefully put together like the lace of a wedding veil.

Emma Accepting Her Parents - “I like the unicorns.” Emma just says that line with not a hint of sarcasm, bitterness, or insincerity and it’s just beautiful! The scene that comes from this line is utterly beautiful and shows just how close Emma and Snow have gotten. They think about the same things in regards to their children. They’re able to bond without walls in the way. And then...of course, there’s the goodbye. It’s so heartbreaking that Emma fully accepts her parents, but is forced apart from them. Watching Emma try to cling to that hope of keeping them close is so brutal and sad.

Rumple’s Redemption - There is so much to say and so much to discuss -- a lot of it i already have -- but as of right now, I think that this was the strongest writing put forth for Rumple’s redemption arc. The buildup of not only seasons 1 and 2, but also an arc that was so largely Rumple-centric and heavy had this fantastic build of momentum that made the payoff of his sacrifice the powerful moment that it was. And look, I like the Rumple stuff that comes after...to varying degrees, but I wanted this rewatch to allow for more emotional honesty from myself and yeah...this was the pinnacle. Should he have remained dead? I’d probably say yes for the character and no for the series. Rumple was brought back for a reason and that’s because his character is ingrained on the series. He (Among others) make Once Upon a Time what it is and I don’t fault anyone for bringing him back and even writing his decline. I wish they were just a little more careful with it because of the strength of this moment.

Killian’s Redemption - “There’s only two things I’d risk my life for: love and revenge.” Killian’s redemption didn’t get a ton of focus here, but I do appreciate what it got. While I found it a little weird that Tink connected Killian’s brave act solely to Emma when she hasn’t seen them flirt all that much, I was willing to forgive it because the action was really cool.

Henry Wanting to Be a Hero - ”Your happy ending may not be what you expect.” This line is so important as it pertains to Henry. Knowing where his story ends and what he hoped to make of it, I feel like it was so nicely put as to give this storyline a bit of prominence, especially since his happy ending at the end of this episode arguably changes the most out of anyone else’s due to the memory change.

Regina’s Redemption - “Will you be okay?” “You will be.” Literally everything Regina does is so redemptive here! Her apology to Henry is the first big thing. She stops his doubts about whether or not he really did the right thing by telling him straight up that this was her fault and that is so important to her redemption. “You’re not a villain. You’re my mom.” This line also freakin’ gutted me. Regina’s progress this season from a thin-iced redeeming villain to someone with a role to play on the team and someone who can strongly bond with everyone was fantastic.

Favorite Dynamic

Rumple and Pan. Pan is a reflection of Rumple and one line tipped me off to this. ”Pwotect your wuved ones.” In season 1, very similar lines came out of Rumple’s mouth. Pan is a Rumple without love and this episode really highlights why. Look at Pan’s verbal takedown of him at the shop. Rumple is a harsh character. He’s beaten people up, extorted, murdered, and kidnapped. But no moment from him has been shot so brutally as Pan’s takedown of him. He cuts Rumple down to the bone with his words -- words so harsh and that fly into the face of the “best chance” sentiment even before Cora did! Like, that scene would be enough to justify these two as having the best dynamic, but then we get to the town line scene where the idea that Pan is a Rumple without love is further shown. Pan, like Cora, didn’t expect for Rumple to pose a challenge to him while backed by love, but he does. He stands up and moves past his desires for his life and loopholes in order to save Neal and Belle. And Pan, even to his death, doesn’t get it.

Writer

A&E close out our half season and fuck me, it’s perfect. The name of the game in this episode is payoff. It’s character payoff. It’s story payoff. It’s emotional payoff. And it’s all handled flawlessly. For a while, I wasn’t sure whether or not I liked the past segments, but as “look how far we’ve come glimpses” and by extension, part of the payoff, they work fantastically.

Culture

There’s a lot to reflect on when it comes to the cultural impact of this episode. Two big points come to mind for me: How this episode could conceivably be a series finale in a lot of way and Pan. I have a great deal to say on why I think Pan was such an amazing villain, so I’m actually going to make that its own post, so I’ll touch on my former point here.

This episode is considered by many to have been able to stand as a series finale, and to tell you the truth, I can see it. Everyone’s arcs are completed in completely satisfying ways. The destruction of Storybrooke is brutal but in the most jaw-dropping and beautiful way. Save for the literal last minute of the episode, one could have seen this as an ending to the show proper.

Now, what does that mean for me? Well, the last time around, I wasn’t paying as close attention to that aspect of my feelings, but this time, I felt it more. In fact, I felt it a LOT. And for as much as I love Seasons 3B-7, I feel weird jumping off of this episode onto the next. Maybe it’s the knowledge that there is admittedly a bit more of a decline in quality going forward (Albeit to varying degrees) or maybe I just like how a lot of the characters’ stories ended here, but I feel so weird knowing that there’s more. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to hit up the Zelena arc, the Frozen Arc, and more, but this episode was so good and so...final. Like Pan, I don’t want to grow up.

Rating

Golden Apple. That wasn’t an episode. That was a masterpiece. This is honestly probably OUAT’s best work. I felt my soul go on a journey while watching it and it now ranks as one of my all-time favorites. Moments like “Coming Home” are what rewatches are for. I’ve never fallen out of love with the series, but seeing it is like renewing my vows. It’s emotional in all the best ways, it’s sincere in all the best ways, the character work is fulfilling, and the story leaves most with something to do. I’m so glad I watched it again.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

Snowing - No one rocks platitudes like David does! His speech to Snow about unexpected turns is just beautiful, romantic, and just lovely!

Tink/Killian - There is some crazy sexual tension between these two! The way they whisper their words and practically dance around the jungle with Tink’s knife at Killian’s throat and then sip the rum together.

Swan Queen - Emma/Regina/Henry hugs never cease to make me smile! They’re so cute! Also, literally the first thing Regina says after waking from her weird coma was “Emma.” And dudes, Regina’s decision to give them new memories...that’s...that’s fucking beautiful. HOW WAS THERE NOT A HUG FOLLOWING THAT, AT THE VERY LEAST?

Rumbelle - Am I allowed to just put the entire middle of the episode here? Belle made him stronger and Rumple’s goodbye and gratitude for that is one of his most earnest and kindest moments in the entire series. It’s so genuine and beautiful. And Belle’s reaction as Rumple dies is heartbreaking. I know its a point of contention that no one goes to comfort her, but I think that it works just as a display of isolation and how gutted she feels from Rumple’s loss. Rumple was her future (Or at least a part of it) and now that future is no more. That hopelessness was more effective by being untouched. Anyway, Emiliee pulls off that crying scene flawlessly!

Captain Swan - “Good.” In that one little word, there’s that longing for a possible future that, as far as they know, they’ll never be able to explore. Also, I love in this sea of tears and sadness, Killian’s able to lighten her spirits, this time in a more tactful way than the “prepare our souls” moment from earlier.

Swan Fire - Neal’s goodbye to Emma and faith that they’ll meet again was just so nice and beautiful!

-----

Sorry. I tried to get in four reviews this week, but “Coming Home” had so much meat to it that I just couldn’t. Hell, I still don’t think I covered everything that I wanted to, but at least I still have the Pan post which should come out tomorrow. Going forward, I will try for the four reviews at some point, but in all likelihood, what’s going to happen is that I’ll just post three reviews on the week of the finale or the week before.

In any event, thank you for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales. Love you all!!!

Season 3 Total (106/220)

Writer’s Scores: Adam and Eddy (29/60) Kalinda Vazquez (17/40) Andrew Chambliss (27/50) Jane Espenson (10/30) David Goodman (20/40) Robert Hull (20/40) Christine Boylan (20/20)* Daniel Thomsen (20/30)

* Indicates that their work for the season is complete

Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 3x11 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat

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