#as she once so wisely put it: you two are my soul mates and [her then boyfriend. now husband.] is just some guy I'll probably marry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaozsilhouette · 3 years

Text

Stubborn Romance

A little piece of domestic joy for the Demon Bull family.

Red Son is trying to sort through his own feelings and chooses to seek help from a only constant married couple in his life.

Enjoy the latest addition to my Vanishing Shadow Au.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

It was a peaceful night. The latest of many ever since the Demon Bull King had been released from the strange energy.

Red Son had been analyzing the frequency, trying to pinpoint exactly what that power was. So far the results confused him. The more he searched the more the readings looked like a living entity.

Princess Iron Fan was busy trying to convince her stubborn husband he needed to rest. The battle with Wukong’s successor had been far more damaging than they let on. With the power straining his body, mind, and soul, he was in no condition to fight. Their personal healer stated that he was to limit himself to minimal physical activities for at least ten days.

Princess Iron Fan had decreed that all their projects for conquering and expanding their territory be put on hold until they returned to their full strength.

Unfortunately, this left Red Son with far too much time of his hands. He mind kept circling back to Macaque’s words. He was of age to begin courting a mate or at least start looking for a potential partner. He couldn’t simply say he had a crush on the Monkie Kid. The roof wouldn’t survive.

Maybe there was a way to develop a truce, after all his father once considered Wukong a brother. Perhaps he could arrange something similar. But to do that he would need to get closer to the boy without alerting his family to his plans.

And that is how he found himself standing before his parents in his father’s personal study.

“Father, if I may ask, how did you court mother?”

Instead of looking annoyed, DBK surprised his son by gaining a fond expression. “Hm, hm. I was wondering when you were going to ask. Finally, found a potential mate?” He asked, with a smug look.

His mother wore a strange expression of joy and irritation.

“Not exactly. But you’ve never told me how you two met or how you courted her.” Red Son corrected. It wouldn't do to lead them on a mystery they could never be allowed to solve.

Princess Iron Fan settled herself on her throne-like chair. “Well, our courtship was a tad unusual for the time period. Now there is so much going on, no one cares who asks who or which gender kidnaps which.” Then again it never really mattered back then either. Strength was the rule of the land, if you couldn’t defend your own what good were you as a ruler. But at the time, it was expected for the man to kidnap the woman.

The family’s matriarch summon a fresh pot of tea, as a servant poured she began reminiscing on her origins. “It all started when your father chose to test his strength against my father’s army. I was but a humble human, a daughter to small-time royalty, not meant for much.”

Seeing her cup had been poured and a tray of appropriate snacks had been arranged, she dismissed every servant in the room. Wisely, they ran as though the gatekeepers of the underworld were after their souls.

“When your father trampled soldier after soldier most turned away in hatred or disgust, but me…” Princess Iron Fan shuddered as the blood splatter filled her mind followed by the agonized cries of the weak. “I couldn’t get enough. There was such passion, such strength. Far beyond anything that pitiful court had ever provided me.”

Red Son could only stare, he’d never seen his mother in such a state.

“Little did I know he had caught sight of me.”

Hearing his cue, the demonic bull happily took the reigns. “She was unlike any being I’d ever witnessed. Gods and demons alike paled to her beauty. Just from the mere glance I was permitted, I saw someone who possessed the cunning and strength to become so much more.” In his youth, he encountered many beings who claimed the title of beautiful, but until he laid eyes on that goddess he never knew the meaning of the word.

“He sent me the most ridiculous letters. The poetry was so bad.” She laughed at the mere memory of them.

“I told you it wasn’t my strong suit.” He joked, not at all ashamed of his past ineptitude. Look where it got him.

“Doesn’t change the fact each one was horrible, but I think that made me appreciate them even more.” She took his hand, gently laying her cheek against his palm. “The language was raw and powerful, nothing like the clean and precise work from my other suitors. All others simply wanted my hand for heirs or increase their status, but he was different. I wrote him back and with each letter, we grew ever closer. Every day I received a letter without fail. It showed his dedication, but most of all it proved he wanted to know me. It was a whole new world.”

“But it wasn’t enough. I needed to meet her in person, to hear her voice, to see the power dance in her eyes. But that worthless king refused to submit, even though most of his army lay dead at my feet. One would have thought he would be bowing to his daughter, knowing she was the only reason I had bothered being so gentle.” He would never have been able to forgive himself had he inadvertently harmed his love by unleashing his full power. It would have demolished the barrier between them, but there was a strong chance it would have destroyed the palace itself.

Princess Iron Fan took a delicate sip, lips curved in a wicked smirk. “I organized a small distraction that allowed your father the opportunity to bypass the wards and seals protecting the palace. Once he was inside, I altered them to ensure the inhabitants had become my prisoners, including your father.”

He chuckled remembering how he walked in only to be restrained, forced to kneel before the one who had effortlessly captured his heart. A quick look around proved he was far from her only captive. “She had heard of a few of the more common demon traditions and decided to make them her own. It was breathtaking.” How could he be mad at one who put so much effort into proving herself the perfect mate?

“The palace became our first fortress. In a matter of days, we were wed and we got to know each other properly.” Princess Iron Fan leaned in close, wind calmly circling her form.

“She granted me the highest honor by casting aside her humanity to become a demon. She agreed to walk by my side for all eternity, no matter what trials lay before us.” The massive demon locked eyes with his princess and queen of his heart. “ Truly the greatest victory I had ever known.”

With that, the two fell silent, lost in their memories and feelings towards each other.

Seeing that the conversation was over, Red Son gave an awkward cough as he slowly back-peddled towards the door. “Thank you...I think I have an engine running...somewhere, that’s not here.” Closing the door behind him, he quickly conjured a vortex of flame.

In the depths of his personal workshop, Red Son emerged just done.

Staring at his personal projects, half-finished blueprints, and fits of whimsy he could only collapse on the first chair he could find. ‘So I inherited my mother’s love for powerful dorks.’

“Terrific.”

#lego monkie kid au #Vanishing Shadow Au #red son #princess iron fan #demon bull king #iron bull #spicynoodleshipping #Ironbullshipping #embarassing parents

97 notes · View notes

lxvestxned · 3 years

Text

y/n is massively afraid of toads, but tries to at least touch trevor for the first time with the graceful help of her best friend neville. while also in complete denial about the feelings they are starting to have for neville. fluff + gender neutral reader! 2500 words.

side note: please don’t make fun of me if i got toad-logic wrong in this one — the fear is real bro. LMAO.

Neville talks about Trevor nearly the same way one might talk about a younger brother. Mildly annoying, but also so very important to the point that he could not even remember his life before him.

Trevor couldn’t be a better gardening pal for him, save for when he disappears while Neville is deepest in concentration with his plants. He always entertains Neville’s miniature hat creations, sitting still and proper while Neville has a good laugh.

I could not be happier about his connection to Trevor. I haven’t brought it up to him yet, but Trevor seemed to be an important figure of worthiness to Neville. I also had to appreciate that Neville had the company of a pet in his quiet house on breaks.

I only wish I would have wised up and got on better with the toad.

Amphibians and reptiles are a bit of a sore spot. To put it gently, they are a thing of nightmares to touch or even to look at. Trevor’s skin was bumpy, coarse, and loose looking. Eyes bulging, dark, and unblinkingly horrifying.

Was his skin rough? Was he heavy? Was he slimy? Oh god, and what would his bones feels like? Could Neville feel him breathing in his hands?

My stomach swam to my throat with every thought. However, the guilt from my fear of Neville’s beloved pet made me feel much worse.

I can’t help recalling from years ago, the way I once jumped a foot away from Neville’s attempt at a lighthearted pat on my shoulder. Simply because I was hyper aware that he had held Trevor in that same hand not even five seconds before.

Neville recoiled too, shock washing off his features only while I frantically showered him in embarrassed apologies. He then promptly washed his hands for a full two minutes to make me feel better. The memory was one of those that frequently replayed in my head when I laid in bed trying my best to sleep over the wailing thoughts of regret.

In place of physical adoration for the toad, I bombarded Neville with questions about him any time they struck me. Each was gratefully met with a patient and particularly-amused response from the proud toad owner.

“Trevor is bumpy and all, he sort of feels like really extreme goose pimples— no, acne.” Neville spoke while lovingly stroking his pointer finger down Trevor’s back in the Gryffindor common room.

“He isn’t heavy at all actually. One time I had him in my hand, looked away for a moment, and when I looked back he was gone. I didn’t even realize.” He whispered to me, just as Professor Binns rambled back toward their side of the classroom.

“Trevor’s not slimy!” He said whilst playfully pointing the prongs of his accusatory fork at me, “you’re thinking of frogs! And even then, I’ve read that they only look it and don’t feel it.”

“I don’t know what his bones feel like?!” Neville laughed incredulously, “seriously, where do you come up with these questions?”

Turned out my latest inquiry was the one that lead me to my doom.

The clump of red, yellow, green, and blue students travelled up the snow-white hill, returning from a full and chilly Magical Creatures lesson. I walked alongside Neville on the trek, body automatically crawling with shivers on the thought of toads once again.

“When you’re holding him, can you feel him breathing?”

Neville let out a huff of laughter between pants for air against the hill’s incline. “I suppose so, I mostly notice his heart beat normally.”

“His heartbeat?!” My gloved hands squeezed into tight fists to resist my overreactive imagination from taking over. The ghost of a toad pumping it’s lungs and beating it’s heart in my palms was enough to make me visibly cringe— which I was determined to suppress at all costs.

Hermione, who was a bit ahead of us, slowed to join our pace, “Yes, Y/N, toads have hearts too, y’know.” She said.

“You’re joking!” I announced sarcastically.

“Why don’t you just hold Trevor once, then you’ll have all the answers you need?” Hermione laughed.

“I’ve asked her and she doesn’t want to.” Neville said.

“I do want to!” I sighed, “I just can’t.”

“Yeah, she said she can’t.” Neville reiterated.

“And why not?” If Hermione was anything, she was a problem solver. And I was suddenly determined to prove that I did, in fact, have a plan of action.

“I’m scared,” I said, “but, I figured if I could gather enough information about what exactly to expect... then, maybe I could do it eventually.”

Neville finally lifted his gaze away from the trail at our feet to smile at me. His smile was open-mouthed almost like he had words on the tip of his tongue ready to fall out. But, Hermione spoke up again.

“Honestly, it’s not as bad as you might think. I think you may even be over thinking all of this. Holding Trevor is almost like... like a leather pouch.”

I muttered, “sure, a living, breathing, beloved leather pouch.”

“You should probably try touching him first before you start carrying him around,” Hermione said right as we reached the plateau level with the archway back into castle walls.

Neville and I hung by the archway like we usually do, recapturing our breaths through the rigid air. I did not expect Hermione to stand with us, allowing Ron and Harry to be carried away with the crowd entering the hall.

Her determination loomed over the silence and I felt the need to accept that solution. After all, Hermione was bound to have another seven loaded up and ready to be dispensed. And not to mention, Neville’s eyes had an unwavering sort of gleam in them that I could not quite put a finger on.

I was suddenly and weirdly diagonal with one palm against the brick arch, the other on my hip, and the toe of my boot scuffing the snow. “I could probably do that,” I had to wonder whether I was at all convincing.

“I can help you,” Neville peered into my soul, to which I decided the gleam was, at the least, highly influential.

I gulped, “yeah, I can do it.”

— — —

There Trevor was, 15 centimeters of pure, mind-numbing terror.

I felt like I had only blinked since we were standing out in the pure white snow. Except, Hermione, Neville, and I were very much in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. Comfortable in my casual change of clothes after dinner, but also filled to the brim with dread as the reds of the room edged in my vision.

“Are you ready?” Hermione smiled as encouragingly as she could.

I finally tore my eyes away from the toad perched on the couch’s arm that Neville was half-blocking with his body.

“Yeah, of course! It’s not that serious!” I gave my best snarky smirk, as if I hadn’t just gnawed a small tear into my bottom lip.

I didn’t want to refuse Hermione the opportunity to be a part of her own solution to the problem that wasn’t hers. But, then again, I wish I did only for the sake of privacy.

Hermione’s presence was a bit heavy to endure. She conjured a very deep desire to prove myself a good friend to Neville with her eyes alone. Which meant false bravery was all I could manage to show at the moment. True feelings buried not-so-deep below that crumbling surface.

“You can do it, Y/N, don’t think.” Hermione relayed that unhelpful bit of information atleast a hundred times within the span of the last fifteen minutes. Although, I did entertain it every time.

With the sudden distraction of Neville turning to pick up his pet, I managed to squeeze a “Thank you, Hermione! I got it!” through the corner of my lips.

Unfortunately, every statement of bravery was like a mating call when among Gryffindors. I could feel sets of interested eyes triple upon our little gathering without even lifting my head. In fact, I was almost positive that Dean had made his way from across the room to lean over the couch cushions from behind.

I wasn’t ready for Neville to stand from his spot on the couch, nor was I ready for him settle down in a kneel in front of me. I could’ve forgotten Trevor entirely with the way I was focused in on Neville’s face. He hadn’t looked one bit nervous, which was a rare and reassuring sight. I had to smile at the thought that, for once, I was the one emitting enough nervous energy for the both of us.

He was pretty quiet up until that point, so his voice made my breath quicken as finality closed in around me. “I’m going to help you, alright?”

That was it, no going back. My face felt as though it was glowing redder than the room. The fluttering in my stomach clashed awfully against the dread that was already shacked up there. I clenched my jaw tight, trying desperately for a look of certainty as I nodded.

Trevor sat comfortably still between Neville’s palms, face nearly pressed into Neville’s chest. I almost wanted to joke that it looked like I was about to be proposed to with the arse of a toad, but Neville brought some humor of his own.

A mischievous grin crept over his lips first, “and you can wash your hands right after.”

I grinned despite the huff of sorrowful air that escaped me. The horrid memory filled me with a brand new sense of urgency to right my wrongs. I held him by his shoulders, “I’m really, really, really sorry about that!”

Neville almost bent forward in hearty laughter, until he realized that he shouldn’t bring Trevor any closer. “No, I know, I know! I was trying to lighten the air.” He shook his head gently, “Come on now.”

I scooted forward in my seat to plant my feet flat on the carpet, fists already balled up tight. “Yeah, come on now,” I echoed, perfectly-thoughtless, as Hermione instructed.

“I’m going to hold him right here, and he’s not going to move. All you have to do is put your fingertips on mine, okay?” Neville instructed so gently that I was ironically totally overwhelmed.

I took the look around the room that I was avoiding, and sure enough, Gryffindors were gawking from every angle. Hermione nodded and Dean was smiling extra wide.

I couldn’t find words. Instead a single shaky hand of mine unwound itself and reached forward. It very unhelpfully occurred to me at that second that I had never even touched Neville’s hands before. And you know what, it shouldn’t be strange to admit your best friend has nice hands. Because he does. Not helpful information, but definitely information.

I was almost worried that my aim was so shaky that I would miss his nails altogether and jab Trevor.

But before I knew it, I was touching the hand that was touching Trevor. Which, of course, reintroduced the smile to my face when reminded of Neville’s joke.

“Yes! Now, I’m just going to pet Trevor, and you can keep your fingers on mine until you’re ready, alright?”

I was too nervous to move my gaze from Trevor any more, but I presumed from the cheer in Neville’s voice that he was smiling hard.

He slowly moved his fingertips to the top of Trevor’s head, and I had to press harder to keep from slipping astray. Then, Neville did exactly as he explained.

My upper lip began to furl up as my imagination ran buck wild in my mind. The worst of all textures invaded my senses and made me want to cringe out of existence. My eyes squinted at the seemingly violent breathing and heart beating that bumped against his warty surface. Our fingertips stroked down his back so many times that my movements felt robotic.

It was automatic enough to break my stare away from it when Neville called my name, “are you breathing?”

I blinked a few times, and let in a gasp of air that I hadn’t even realized I needed. “Apparently, not.” I laughed, surprised by my hushed volume.

“Merlin, so much suspense for this?” a Gryffindor near the windows was met with a brief glare from Neville, but he concentrated on me.

“Why don’t you take a big breath, and then try putting your fingers in front of mine?”

I loosened up my face, as I took a deep breath in. The long breath out allowed my other hand to unwind as well. I parted my teeth, while my fingertips eased on to the very tip of his nails. “Okay,” I tried another deep, thoughtless breath.

“You can do it, Y/N.” He whispered.

I blinded myself with my unoccupied hand.

Trevor felt gravelly.

Like extreme acne.

His breathing was not nearly as noticeable as the racing heart, beating at the top of his body.

He had a spine.

Noticeable only because the several wobbly scribbles of a line that I tried to draw was not nearly as straight as the subtle ridge at the center of his back.

I eased the hand off of my eyes. Sure to embarrass myself as the sting of tears felt closer than ever. When I looked between us, the room felt a little bit bigger. Almost like we weren’t surrounded by onlookers awaiting my first true reaction.

Our knees were resting so carelessly against each others. Neville’s hand was no longer stroking Trevor with me, it was upright exactly the way someone would hold a ring box ajar. His face was flushed pink, a dopey smile on full display.

My heart floated up and out of my body, drifting high above my head like a balloon. A smile of my own lit up my entire face, while I cupped my palm on Trevor’s back like Neville did minutes before.

Dean and Hermione congratulated me on my fierce battle versus a backwards toad.

But then Trevor made an awful noise that made me jump to attention.

“Okay, Trevor’s done for... the rest of the year.” Neville hurriedly placed the toad on the table behind him.

When he turned to face me, the tiny bit of nerves that infinitely plagued his features returned while he was very caught up between continuing to kneel or standing up.

I hopped to my feet, helping Neville choose to straighten himself up as well.

“That was amazing, Y/N!”

“You’re, you’re— amazing, Nev!” I must have forgotten to resume thinking because I trapped him in a hug. His arms pressed against his sides and all.

After a burst of his nervous laughter rattled through the air, he tried to hug me in return. When only able to bend at his elbows, he hovered his hands over the edges of my back for a moment. Until finally he placed his hands even softer than the touch I just shared with Trevor.

Dean and Hermione swapped looks then, and I had to shut my eyes to pretend I didn’t notice.

#Neville Longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x y/n #neville longbottom x you #harry potter imagine #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom fluff #neville x reader #neville x you

118 notes · View notes

likeiwishiknew · 4 years

Text

Azriel x Gwyn - The Jump

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716227/chapters/73319802

He was not a fan of birthdays.

He certainly never celebrated his own.

But the Night Court, his family, enjoyed them plenty. Though, admittedly, they enjoyed any occasion where they could all gather together for good fun and good wine.

Tonight was Nesta’s birthday, and Cassian had gone all out on decorating the House of Wind. Rhys had gifted the place to Cassian and Nesta in honor of their mating, but Azriel still kept rooms here. The pair had insisted upon it, saying that it was much his home as it was theirs.

Azriel wasn’t so sure about that. Home...he didn’t quite know what that was supposed to feel like.

He stood off to the side as he always did, watching the revelry.

Mor was speaking to Emerie. There was an ease between them that he was quite certain he’d never before seen from the female who’d once consumed his thoughts.

It was no question that Mor was beautiful. He would always acknowledge that, would always care for her, but after centuries of pining after her, he found, in recent years, she no longer affected him the way she used to. And in truth, he was grateful for it.

Over the centuries he’d tried to convince himself to be content with what they had. That her companionship, her friendship was enough. But that was the thing about one-sided love. No matter how hard you might feign contentment at being able to remain by their side, a part of you would always hope for more. And a heart that yearned for someone who showed no reciprocation was bound to become bitter.

He was no exception.

One would think it would’ve made him wise enough not to ensure he never fell into the same pattern again. But he damn near had.

Elain Archeron was lovely, gentle, and seemed to have shared his attraction.

She was also another’s mate.

He and Rhys had almost come to blows over Azriel attraction to the middle Archeron sister. His brother had gone as far as ordering him to stay away. An order that had irked him and had the dominant side of him almost determined to go against his High Lord’s order, if for no other reason than to prove his will was no one’s to command. However, time and some distance had given him perspective. He’d come to realize that perhaps it wasn’t so much Elain that he wanted but the idea of her. The idea of belonging with someone so beautiful and soft. The idea of being made whole, the way his brothers had when they’d found their mates.

That was what he wanted, to feel whole. To be unbroken.

His quiet introspection was interrupted by a burst of laughter. His eyes darted across the room at the almost musical sound. He caught sight of Gwyn speaking to Nesta and Cassian. Her face alight with happiness.

He hadn’t seen her since their uncomfortable encounter at the shop.

The sight of her put him in good spirits. Until he noticed the excessive rosy tint to her complexion. It took him a second to realize the issue.

She was drunk, or at least well on her way to it.

What the hell?

He headed to where she was, eating up the distance in a few long strides.

Cassian was the first to notice his approach. His brother gave him an interested look. Perhaps, surprised to see him headed toward people rather than away from them.

He came up beside Gwyn, something she would normally detect immediately. But with her dulled senses she took far too long to notice.

When she finally did she only looked up at him in confusion, like she did not know who he was.

“Are you drunk?” he asked concerned.

A mischievous smile crossed her face, recognition in her eyes at the sound of his voice.

“Maybe just a tiny bit,” she admitted, raising her fingers to emphasize how tiny.

Nesta spoke up, “It hadn’t occurred to me how low her alcohol tolerance would be. Though, in retrospect, it should’ve. I doubt she grew up drinking much at the temple.”

“I feel great though,” Gwyn interjected.

Cassian gave her an affectionate smile. His friend looked as though he found this amusing. Azriel did not. He wanted to insist she go rest and sober up, but he knew in his gut she would not appreciate being ordered about.

“Perhaps, you should like to get some air,” he offered instead.

Her smile grew wider and she nodded, “That is a most excellent idea.”

She turned to Nesta and Cassian, “Would you the two of you like to join?”

Nesta smiled at her friend.

“I think we’ll stay inside, mingle with the others. But you’ll be safe with Azriel,” his brother’s mate started saying, only to meet his eyes, “Right, Az?”

He returned her stare, “Of course.”

Nesta gave an approving nod and took Cassian by the hand, leading him away.

Azriel offered Gwyn his arm, uncertain she’d be able to make her way to the balcony without some assistance. He waited for her to scoff, offended, but she took it with no protest.

He led her over to the double doors leading to the balcony and pushed them open.

Releasing his arm, she rushed to the edge. Her face was awash with wonder as she took in the light of the stars, almost as if seeing them for the very first time.

He quietly observed as she took a deep breath, taking in the cool night air.

“You know I never knew how much I missed the sky until I saw it for the first time again after spending nearly two years locked away in the dark,” she confessed, a smile on her face, “I thank the stars, that I found the courage to meet Nesta and Cassian up here that first day.”

He did too.

In moments like this, he was in awe of her. This young woman, whose soul remained bright, whose heart still managed to be grateful, even after all she’d endured.

Gwyn spun back around to him, “Shall we play a game?” she teased.

He smirked at her, “What sort of game?”

“A trust game,” she hopped up onto the ledge, sending his heart damn near leaping out of his chest.

“What are you doing?”

She stood facing him and shot him a playful smile.

“Game starts...now!” she called out, letting herself fall backward off the ledge.

Fuck. He cursed.

He spread his wings and jumped after her.

She was falling fast, but he was faster. He swept her up into his arms and pulled her close. Moments later, he had them touching down gently on the ground below.

“What the hell was that!?” his voice near shouting.

Gwyn tapped her chin in thought, “I believe humans call it a trust fall.”

His brows furrowed in annoyance, “You could’ve been hurt.”

She stared at him, looking genuinely surprised at his frustration, “I only did it because I knew it was safe.”

“Jumping off a balcony when you cannot fly is hardly safe,” he admonished.

“It is when I know you’ll catch me,” she all but sang back, grinning up at him.

He fell silent at her admission. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

So, he shook his head and changed the subject.

“Let’s get you back into the house.”

As he readied to fly them back up, she spoke.

“About the necklace...” she started.

He winced that the mention, uncertain he wished to discuss it with her in her current state or any state.

But she was too drunk to pick up on his mood.

“I want you to know I was never angry I was...hurt some. But mostly I was...embarrassed...I think...I don’t...it doesn’t matter,” she trailed off, “I know you didn’t have ill intentions. I’m the one who made assumptions.”

He paused. About what?

“So it wasn’t you who hurt me. It was me. I - never mind, it is silly anyways.”

“No. It’s not. Tell me,” he insisted.

She hesitated, “I was silly for thinking someone like you would like someone like me.”

Her admission floored him. Why would she think that?

Any male would be so lucky to -

He stopped himself. He couldn’t have this conservation now. Not when she likely wouldn’t even remember any of this come morning.

Tucking her close to his chest, he went ahead and winnowed them back upstairs.

Gwyn glanced around, clearly not understanding how she’d gotten from one place to the next.

“I’m taking you back to your room,” he declared.

She shook her head, “You can’t enter the dorm area, priestess’ only.”

Damn, that was right. Funny how she happened to remember that little detail.

As though summoned by her sister’s presence, Nesta appeared.

“She’s a bit of mess so it probably would not be wise to bring her downstairs,” the female pointed out, “I’ll take her back to my old rooms, that way if she needs anything I’ll be close by.”

“It’s alright. I’ll bring her,” he insisted.

Nesta raised a single brow.

“I want to make sure she’s fine,” he defended, holding the female’s stare.

“And you don’t trust that I’d make sure of that?” Nesta returned, with the barest hint of offense.

“I - Nesta, please, let me do this," he requested.

She took him in with her all too seeing gaze.

They stayed like that. Assessing each other, until she realized he wouldn’t yield on this. At which point, she only nodded her assent. He gave a single nod, passing her to take the stairs up.

Reaching the room in little time at all, he opened the door - taking care not to jostle Gwyn in his arms.

With steady footsteps, he headed over to the large bed. Kneeling on the edge, he laid her down as gently as possible.

His shadows danced around her, kissing her skin as though wishing her good night.

She curled up with his arm. He tried to pull away but she held on tight.

“Gwyn, Gwyn,” he whispered, to no avail.

He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into her face, and she nuzzled his hand. Her hold on him loosening.

He was about to pull away again when she whispered his name, “Azriel.”

The sound was so faint he wondered if he’d imagined it. He stared down at her, trying to discern if she was awake. But she did not stir.

His name on her lips brought the tiniest smile to his face. Carefully, he extracted himself from her hold and reluctantly got off the bed. Something inside him calmed at the sight of her peacefully sleeping face. He stared down at the hand she’d held in hers.

“If there’s anyone who isn’t good enough, it’s me,” he whispered, eyes returning to her.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, “Goodnight, Berbara.”

- - -

Her head was pounding.

She had a sour taste on her tongue, and she was unbelievably thirsty.

Turning over in bed, she opened her eyes. It took all of two seconds for her to realize this was not her room. She sat up and frantically looked around. Absolutely nothing looked familiar.

Staring toward the door Gwyn willed herself to remember how she’d gotten here.

She took a deep breath and counted down from twenty. By the time she reached ten, everything from the night before came flooding back. Her face heated from embarrassment.

God, she could not believe she’d done and said those things.

Glancing on the nightstand she realized someone had placed a jug of water there, along with a glass. She smiled at the thoughtfulness.

Filling it to the brim, she took a large sip. When she suddenly remembered she had morning plans.

With Azriel.

Oh, gods.

She was never drinking again.

For a brief instant, she considered not showing up. But that idea went as quickly as it had come.

She was a grown woman. She would not hide from her mistakes and avoid Azriel when he’d been nothing but good to her. Despite her ridiculous behavior. With that in mind, she jumped out of bed and quickly hurried back to her own room, to change out her clothes, before heading up to meet him.

Gwyn had just made it past the archway when Azriel turned. He looked almost surprised to see her. Which was strange because surely his shadows had warned him of her approach.

He watched with keen focus as she approached.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admitted.

She met his handsome gaze head-on, “I wouldn’t miss this. I know how busy you are, and I’m the one who asked you to teach me the technique I found in the old tome.”

For a moment, Azriel said nothing. She started to grow a bit anxious, but thankfully he put her out of her misery.

“Shall we get started then?” he asked.

She nodded, getting into a fighting stance.

And with that, they fell into familiar territory.

- - -

Any unease and tension between them had faded with each calculated movement.

He would have to leave soon. Spymaster business. Nesta mentioned it to her the other day in passing when she’d visited her in the library.

In one final attempt to take him down, she darted forward. But just before her hit landed, he stepped out of the way. Her momentum had her tumbling forward, but before she started to fall Azriel caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

Still off-balance, she didn’t catch herself in time and wound up crashing into his firm chest.

Palm pressed against him, she pulled back. Praying she managed to keep from blushing, she looked up into his warm hazel eyes.

“Thank you for catching me,” she voiced, and then, remembering events of the night before, she added, “Both times.”

A smile slowly curved his lips. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re welcome, on both counts.”

She knew she was doing a piss poor job of not blushing.

“Oh, also, I meant what I said by way. I know you giving me the necklace didn’t mean what I thought it did. So you don’t have to worry about me having any silly ideas.”

Gwyn felt him stiffen. Turning her head, she saw his expression had shuttered at her words. Which left her a bit confused.

Perhaps, her words hurt because they made him think of his own situation. How he pined after a female who already had a mate. It pained her to see him this way, but it wasn’t her place to address it. He wasn’t hers to worry over.

“Right...well I should go. I mean, I know you have somewhere else to be and so do I so...”

When he said nothing to stop her. She turned to leave.

His voice was so quiet, she almost didn’t hear him, “Gwyn...are we okay?” he asked hesitantly.

She looked over her shoulder at him. She was the one who’d made a fool of herself yet he seemed to be the one beating himself up over his own mistakes.

She smiled, meaning every word, “We’ll always be okay.”

~~~

Author notes: I thankfully have not been privy to much the fandom drama that apparently has been occurring as of late, and for that I am grateful. But knowing that it is happening somewhat inspired the ending for this chapter. The reminder that no matter the drama: We will be okay. I genuinely enjoy this series, and I obviously ship Gwynriel. But I know that at the end of the day, this is a work of fiction. We’re meant to get enjoyment out of it. Not start petty wars over it. Anyways, that’s all I have to say on the topic and I promise shall not bring it up again because I don’t like to invite negativity into my life. I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter, and if so do please like and comment =D

Bonus notes:

Me: You’ve determined a schedule Cindy. Do not post until Saturday.

Also me: The world needs more Gwynriel / Azriel x Gwyn content now!

Me:...

Me: Random whims you win again!

So yeah, let’s just say I’ll post once a week whenever I fancy the chapter complete 😆

~~~

@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium

@brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

@my-fan-side

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #acotar #acosf #azriel x gwyn #azriel #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #fanfiction #read on ao3

131 notes · View notes

readiajin · 3 years

Text

To Love Herself

Helloooo acotar fandom. Or just Nessian fandom.

I have gone back and forth loving and hating acosf, but finally pinpointed the breaking point for me. I hated how the story played out after Nesta told Feyre about the baby. There was so much potential with how that whole situation could be handled. Instead Nesta was blamed for everything, with no one else ever taking responsibility.

Because of that I have decided to try my hand at writing a fanfic starting from that point in acosf. Below is what I would call the prologue and the beginning of the first chapter.

I have never posted anything I have written before, so please be kind. I would love feedback on it and if people are curious I will continue it.

Prologue

Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected high lady, that the baby in your womb will kill you?”

It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s painted-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She… Oh gods.

Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.

Nesta ran into the streets, escaping down side alleys, not caring where she went, as long as it was away. Away from Feyre and her pain, the pain Nesta had just so cruelly added to. Away from Amran, the first friend Nesta had once thought she was. Away from the rest of her sister’s new family.

Nesta had thought she was getting better. She had been trying, with Gwyn and Emerie. With Cassian. She had searched for the Dread Trove, to protect Elain. She had initially followed Rhysand’s order not to tell Feyre about the risk of the baby...

But standing in that apartment, Nesta had realized none of it mattered. Not while Feyre cried and Amran looked at her with such hatred and disgust. For all her efforts, Feyre and her Inner Circle would never like Nesta.

As she ran Nesta couldn’t entirely blame them. She didn’t like who she was either. Didn’t like the things she said, or what she did, or how she felt. She didn’t like her powers either, not when they were a manifestation of all the worst things about her. They were all better off without her.

The realization slammed into Nesta. It was not the first time she had thought it. She had lived in her rundown apartment for exactly that reason, to put space between her and her sister’s family. But they had always dragged her back in with parties and dinners, insisting Nesta be there. They only ever resulted in her once again feeling out of place and giving them all more reasons to loathe her. Until finally they had forced her to the House Of Wind

Nesta came to a halt in an ally that opened up to the Sidra and the setting sun. Her red hot anger from earlier was gone, replaced with that numb feeling that she had lived with for so long, the feeling she had been beginning to forget. How quickly it returned.

Feyre’s crumpled face flashed in her mind. Nesta knew they would be coming for her. Feyre deserved to know the truth about her baby, her body. Everyone had the right to the truth. But Rhysand, Amren, and the rest of them didn’t care about that. They only cared how Nesta made Feyre feel, so they would blame her. Including Cassian.

Cassian who she trusted, who she had let in despite knowing better. No one had ever tried as much as he had with her, but in the end he would always choose Feyre and the Inner Circle. He had continued to talk to them about her and keep things from her because of them.

No matter what he was to her, he was also better off without her. She was a burden he had been handling, but today proved it was all pointless. Nothing and nobody could fix her.

Her powers curled in her gut as she stared at the sparking water. She wanted to disappear.

So do it A voice whispered.

Silver flames sparked at the tips of Nesta’s fingers.

Disappear

Nesta hugged her hands to her chest, letting the cold flames sparkle across her body. Amren has been right. Nesta hadn’t had any interest in her powers. But now they were all she had left. They were the only thing that had made her worth anything to the others. But maybe now they were her answer. Nesta closed her eyes and let her leash slip, let the magic decide. Disappear.

“NESTA!” a distant voice shouted.

A voice Nesta knew in her soul.

As the world twisted in flicking silver, Nesta turned and glanced at the sky. Hazel eyes locked onto hers, and Nesta felt his anger and alarm. His horror. All about her. But not anymore. Nesta felt a single tear escape down her cheek as she allowed her magic to consume her, and let go.

•••••

Chapter 1 (1st part)

Do you plan on coming home soon Feyre darling?

Feyre sent a huff of a laugh back at Rhys. Why? Does somebody miss me?

Two somebodies actually. Rhys replied, Nyx wants to show you how he has improved his flying with Uncle Azriel today.

Feyre smiled at the image of her son jumping off couches to fly around the room played in her mind. She currently sat in her studio, working on a painting of Nyx flying with his father. She planned on saving it for his eighth birthday present in a couple months.

Feyre glanced out the window, where the streets were only illuminated by streetlight on the moonless night. She hasn’t realized how late it had become.

I’ll be home soon, I just have to clean up.

Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rhys rumbled back. A shiver went down Feyre’s spin as she cut off the connection with her mate to concentrate on cleaning.

She walked around the room, turning off most of the lights before going to the back to wash her brushes and pallet. As she stood at the sink, she suddenly felt a cold breeze at the back of her neck.

Feyre froze. She raised her head to look at the paint splattered mirror above the sinks. Through the smudged glass she could see a dark cloaked figure standing behind her.

Slowly, Feyre turned. “Who are you?” She demanded. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a High Lady.”

The figure stood perfectly still. As they stared at each other the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Finally the figure tilted their head to the side slightly. “Well? What do you want?”

An indignant huff came from beneath the cloak before reaching up to pull back their hood.

Feyre’s mind went blank as she took in her sister, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in over 8 years.

“Hello Feyre.” Was all Nesta said.

Feyre stared at her older sister. Not a day had gone by since that terrible day in Amren’s apartment that Feyre hadn’t thought of Nesta. Not a day she hadn’t wondered, worried. They had searched for her. Had even reached out to the other courts when they became desperate for answers. But there had been no trace of her since Cassian had seen her consumed by silver flames.

Now standing before her, the first thing Feyre noticed was how healthy she looked. Nesta had slowly begun to look better after living in the House and training with Cassian for a few weeks. She had been gaining a little weight and some color back then.

But stepping in to the light cast from lanterns on the back counter, Nesta seemed to glow with health. Her hair was braided in its classic crown, but her face was full and tanned from being in the sun. Her eyes still held the same stormy intensity they always had, but the haunted look she had had was now replaced with a silver gleam.

Although most of her body was covered in a dark cloak, Feyre could see she was wearing fighting leathers— not Illyarian leathers. And peaking out over her right shoulder, was the pommel of a great sword. The Great Sword, the one she had accidentally Made. The sword that, along with the two other Made weapons, had been stolen from where they had been locked in the river house. The same night several priestess disappeared from the Library.

•••••

#nessian #acosf #acotar #sjm #nesta archeron #emerie #gwyneth berdara #valkyrie trio #valkyries #nessian fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #readiajin

79 notes · View notes

stay-tinystars · 4 years

Text

Colors: Masquerade

Ship: Hyunjin x Fem reader

Non idol au, Soul Mate AU

Warnings: sarcasm, bitter feelings, tripping over things, slight hitting/slapping (nothing violent), Chan is a tease, reader is implied to be older, I think that's it.

Word count: 4.2 k

A/N: So I wanted to write something for Hyunjins birthday. I always have been intrigued by Soul mate AUs so I wrote one. I haven't seen this one done before, so I hope you all like it. I plan on doing a one shot for each SKZ member for this AU. So some skz members will feature slightly in this and future stories. The series will be called Colors.

I hope you enjoy! And Happy birthday to Hyunjin! He is amazing, talented, and just drop dead gorgeous! Happy 21st international birthday! --story published Mar 19 2021 6:00pm MDT

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

Most people couldn't wait to meet their soulmate. The one person who would change not only your life, but your eyes.

Everyone was born with two different colored eyes, they say those colors determined your childhood. Overall they generalized the colors; Blues usually meant they were inspired kids, inspiring themselves and others to do great things. Green meant they had luck on their side. Brown had resilient personalities, bringing a sense of dependability to others. Purples were very independent and creative. Grays had a sophistication that most children lacked. And so on and so forth. By the time you reached middle school everyone knew what their exact eye colors meant, and some say it predicted how you would find someone.

Eyes however didn't remain two separate colors your whole life. Once you met your soulmate they changed almost in an instant, color shifting for a few seconds until your eye color perfectly matched that of your mates. Some say time seemed to stop once they noticed their mates' eyes changing, but one thing was for sure no one felt their eyes change color, the only thing they usually felt was their heart speeding up.

You originally couldn't wait to find your soul mate. You got caught up in the feeling of it all. You believed he would be everything you wanted and more. During your teens it's all you dreamed about, how you'd meet in some perfect way, how he would sweep you off your feet. However the past few years had made you bitter, watching friend after friend find their mate leaving you in the dust.

"You'll be the same when you find your mate" they would say as you grimaced as they would kiss and cuddle in front of you. Most of those so called friends never invited you to things anymore, because you couldn't relate because you didn't have someone. They said it was because they didn't want you to feel like the third wheel, but mostly you knew it's because they pitied you for not having someone. "It's a shame you don't have anyone, I hope he's still around somewhere"

You were starting to feel like you had some sort of disease, because that's how you were treated by those 'friends'.

Things only felt worse as you stared at the flyer someone slid under your door.

-----

Hyunjin pov

"Mandatory masquerade spring formal." He read as he lifted the flyer from the pile of mail next to his door. Hyunjin hated these mandatory regional events. At least this one was just a formal instead of a full costume ball, like the last one. The large cities throw these balls, three times a year. Anyone over the age of 20, who hadn't found their soulmate was required to go. This would be his third ball, he hoped it would be his last. Sure he wanted to meet his soulmate, but mostly he wanted all the girls who came to these things to stop throwing themselves at him, staring at his eyes hoping to see a change. Most would find it flattering, in fact Hyunjin did back in high-school he always loved the attention. Curious which girl would try during lunch that day. Now it was getting old, he wanted someone who truly saw his soul, not just his good looks.

Hyunjin sighed as he looked at himself in the floor length mirror, black suit pants, navy silk long sleeve button up with the top three buttons undone. A dark night sky scene was painted on the mask that rested on his nose. His long dark hair pulled away from his face. His eyes unchanged, still two different colors. One burnt umber, the other ocean blue.

He was curious of what color his eyes would change to once he met his soulmate, he heard it depends on how and when they meet.

For instance, his dad had similar eye colors to his before he met mom. They met on a stormy day, each on their way their jobs enjoying the rain. They met while dancing out in the light spring shower while waiting at a crosswalk. Now his parents both had beautiful bright gray eyes, the same color as the storm clouds as they parted for the sun that day.

Would his eyes turn the Navy he had chosen for this dance if he met her tonight? He sighed to himself, shaking his head slightly as he grabbed his things and left his apartment.

Reader pov.

At least the food they provided at these mandatory balls was delicious, it seemed the only incentive that was worth the trouble of being here. The numerous hors d'oeuvres were delicious, and you had a plate full of all the different types to make sure they still tasted delicious.

Truthfully you hated being here. You had been to too many of these things to count. At this point you wondered if your soulmate was dead, or lost somewhere. Simply because you hadn't met him yet, and it felt as if time was ticking. Maybe that's because your friends all found their mates within the year you all turned twenty. Now here you were five years later, still with miss matched eyes. One pewter gray, one lavender.

You wore the same dress you always did to these balls. At first it made you feel amazing, like a princess. Now it only brought you bitterness. The purple satin that faded to blue, a galaxy made of glitter across the bodice. The mask on your face was silver, making your eyes seem to shine.

"You look bored" a familiar voice got your attention, as he sat at the empty table next to you. Dressed in all black as he usually was. Looking devilishly handsome as always.

"Chan, I'm always bored at these things. You're the only one who talks to me" you sighed leaning on the table as you looked towards him.

Chan was a god send at these things. He became your friend a few years ago, during one of these balls. His dimples made every girl swoon, it was the first thing you noticed about him, but what made you stay was the wonderful caring conversation that was so rare at these things. He actually wanted friends, not just a soulmate. He was truly a social butterfly.

"Maybe if you leave the table, and stop glaring at anyone who approaches, someone might talk to you." His mischievous eyes of emerald green and royal purple danced beneath his black mask, as he stole some hors d'oeuvres off your plate. Popping one into his mouth.

"Shut up Chan, not all of us are as charming as you!" you playfully hit his arm. He gasped softly and grabbed his arm in fake pain.

"I'm sure you could be somewhat charming. That is, if you took the "F off" stamp off your forehead." he teased making a face at you.

"Very funny" Rolling your eyes, looking back towards your plate of food, then towards the dance floor which was filled with eager young people, all dancing and talking. Switching partners every song or so. You watched as one couple suddenly stopped dancing, their eyes growing large. She squealed, jumping up and down as he hugged her. Another happy couple, another soulmate found.

You wanted to vomit.

"I want to know how neither of us have found our match, we've both been too far too many of these." You groaned, sliding down in your chair. Not caring how unladylike it was. You glanced towards Chan, who was just enjoying watching everyone.

"I suspect my match is elsewhere" his words wise, his eyes looking towards the newest happy couple fondly. "I think they might be at one of these in their own region"

"She probably is cursing your name right now, wondering why you are taking so long to find her." you started.

"Like you are cursing yours right now?" You wanted to smack that smirk off his face.

"Chan you can be infuriating." You stood, smoothing out your skirt. Chan chuckled following you. Knowing you wanted some fresh air.

"Maybe you don't want to crash the next regional dance with me." he nudged you as you both walked around the main crowd, towards the large outdoor balcony.

"Now that is a good idea, I didn't think you had any of those left" you looked towards him with a shocked expression. Your foot caught on something, then someone's body bumped into yours.

That's when you ended up flat on your back, your mask slightly askew.

The music seemed to stop. In fact it had. You looked at your converse clad feet which were tangled in the electrical cords from the DJ booth. Chan was laughing. The DJ scrambled from the booth to fix the electrical situation. You shifted, untangling yourself best as possible from the cords. Muttering a slight apology to the frazzled dark haired man, as he gathered the cords quickly.

"I'm so sorry!" A new voice said as he stumbled to his feet beside you. His navy shirt hanging loosely around him. "I wasn't even looking where I was going," he said, dusting himself off. Then looking at you, and offering a hand.

"It's my fault too, I wasn't looking." You said taking his hand, to help you to your feet. Then glaring at Chan who was beside himself with fits of laughter. "I was too busy chiding my friend" you gestured towards Chan, shaking your head.

"My name is Hyunjin" the handsome man smiled, his mask shimmered as the little iridescent stars caught light.

"Y/N " you said with a slight bow, fixing your mask.

"It's nice to meet you, I haven't seen you here before." he smiled, he was ridiculously attractive.

"Well she's been here, forever" Chan exaggerated as he leaned on your shoulder. You shoved him away.

"Shut up Chan."

"Well you have!" He put his hand up in mock defense.

"I'm so done with you!" You walked away, then turned to Hyunjin and gave a quick wave. He gave a small nod, as a girl approached him tapping him on the shoulder.

You took that as your queue to leave. You felt so done with everything, still hadn't felt that spark everyone gushed about. You felt slightly embarrassed about cutting the music with your own clumsy feet. You made a fool of yourself thanks to Chan, you just knew you needed out.

When you got home you were exhausted, and changed out of your gown, and quickly washed your face then just went to bed.

------

Hyunjin

Hyunjin nodded, as the strange but cute girl practically ran away. Feeling a small tap on his shoulder his attention was brought to a girl in a pink poofy ball gown. The music was starting up again, he knew she was going to ask him to dance. Why had he come in from the balcony?

"So I've been watching you all night. And…." Her eyes widened. "What color are my eyes?" She asked quickly, her words stumbling out of her mouth.

"Um.." Hyunjin cocked his brows as he looked closer, kind of confused. "Dark blue, and light green?"

Her face fell, then he saw multiple emotions flash over her face, ending in anger.

"Why are you here if you already have a soulmate? Shouldn't you be with them!" She practically yelled. Hyunjin was confused, as the girl slapped his arm and ran away. What a strange turn of events. First he ran into that girl, Y/n? Now he just got some weird girl thinking he had a soulmate, these balls got worse every time, maybe he would call it a night.

He went to the bathroom, still bewildered by the weird situation that just happened. As he took off his mask he looked in the mirror.

"What the hell?!" He yelled at his reflection, leaning on the counter, getting closer to the mirror. Both ofHis eyes a bright flaming orange. He felt as if he was looking at a campfire in his eyes. His mind started reeling. How had he met his soulmate? He had barely talked to anyone all night, he had hid on the balcony outside for the first hour of this thing, just eating the hors d'oeuvres that were provided. He then came inside to try to make the night worthwhile, and while looking at the decorated ballroom, he ran into someone, literally. That's when it clicked, the girl he literally ran into, it had to be her. She was the only one he talked to!

"Y/N, I've got to find Y/N!" He grabbed his mask and ran out of the bathroom.

Two hours of searching later, Hyunjin sat defeated at a random table. He sat his mask down and slumped in the chair, as he watched happy couples in pairs all around the room. That's what was supposed to be happening to him right now, staring into his soul mates eyes, dancing the night away without a care in the world.

Who had ever heard of a soulmate who didn't know. A soulmate who didn't say anything. These stupid masks, they cover up half your face, distorting the eyes. The dark room. How did they expect people to see the change with those factors?

He always heard that when you saw the change and knew, but he hadn't seen her eyes change, plus she ran off so quickly. Maybe he should've gone after her. No, that would've been creepy, plus he didn't know at the time.

What was he supposed to do? He wasn't even sure exactly what she looked like. That's when he saw his chance. He swears that's Y/Ns friend from earlier, in the all black and black mask talking to the DJ right now. Hyunjin quickly stood and bee lined towards the man in black.

"Excuse me, your Chan right?" Hyunjin said, approaching him.

"Yes, and you're Hyunjin?" The man smiled, as Hyunjin nodded. Chan resumed watching the people on the dance floor in front of him.

"Yeah, I, uh, ran into your friend Y/N earlier" Hyunjin rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah you did, quite literally." he chuckled, side eying and gently elbowing Hyunjin.

"Well that's the thing. I kind of need to find her."

"Did she break your phone or something?" He asked.

"No, she's kind of my soulmate." Hyunjin blurted.

"What?" Chan choked on air, as his eyes bugged out. He turned and grabbed Hyunjin's shoulders, looking him straight in the eye, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he saw the orange in his eyes.

"She's the first one I talked to tonight at this stupid thing. After hiding on the balcony. I didn't even know it happened til another girl started to flirt with me." Hyunjin now turned his attention to the dance floor.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but she's long gone." Hyunjin felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I figured, since I've been looking for her for over two hours" he heard the other male grimace on his behalf.

"So I was wondering if you could help me out. All I know about her is her first name." Hyunjin looked towards his shoes, trying to distract himself with the nice polished shine.

"Well I could help," Chan smirked and Hyunjins head snapped up looking at him, "but I'm not sure I owe Y/N the courtesy of helping her out." Chans mischievous two toned eyes shone playfully.

"I thought she was your friend" Hyunjin was slightly confused, yet again this evening.

"Oh she is, she just owes me after bailing on me tonight." He looked at his phone. "And being as I have no messages from her freaking out. I bet she didn't even notice before she went to sleep"

They exchanged information, Chan excited to be in the middle of this. Curious of how you would react in the morning. Promising Hyunjin to keep him informed.

-----

Your pov

The blaring alarm on your phone made you groan, you silenced it and rolled back over. Some days you wish you didn't have to work, but being a manager over editing on the largest magazine in the city meant you couldn't miss work. Yet you still fell back asleep.

When your alarm went off to tell you it was time to leave you woke up in a panic. You quickly showered and dressed, grabbing some breakfast then you were out the door, not even bothering with makeup as you were going to be late.

"Oh my gosh! Tell me everything!" Joy, your second in command gushed as you entered the office.

"Nothing out of the ordinary at those stupid balls. Food again was the only reason to attend" you muttered as you set your things down on your desk, and plopped in your chair.

"Obviously that's a lie! Now tell me what really happened!" Joy pestered. Her vivid seafoam green eyes, staring you down. She found her soulmate just after she started working with you, but she always wanted to gossip and talk about those meeting their matches. It intrigued her for some reason.

"I told you everything. I went ate food, watched all the stupid romantic couples, headed outside. Tripped on the cords for the DJ booth then left." You huffed, leaning back. She put her hands on your chair making you face her. You cocked your eyebrows at her.

"You don't know? How can you not know" Her words confusing, and accusing.

"Joy, what are you talking about?" You groaned. She then dug in her purse bringing out her compact.

"I know I didn't do my makeup today."

"Just look in the mirror"

"But-"

"Just look in the mirror Y/N" you grabbed the compact from her hand and looked at yourself, trying to see what she was talking about. Nothing seemed out of place, you didn't have any bruises from the collision last night. You went to close the mirror when you glimpsed orange. You immediately pulled it back to your face. Eyes wide.

"I…. What?" Your words lost and confused.

"Now tell me about him!" She sat on the edge of your desk looking at you.

"I only talked to Chan last night. And we both know he isn't my match" you sat staring at the mirror in your hand. Going through everything that happened, you grabbed your phone. Quickly texting Chan.

--What color are your eyes???

you hadn't heard of knowing someone for years before they became a soulmate but you had to ask.

"Well you had to have met someone new" she nudged your leg.

"That's the thing, I don't remember talking to anyone else. Just Chan annoying me, then-" the sudden realization hit you. "I ran into someone, literally"

"Of course that's how you would meet your match" she nodded. "You are kind of clumsy"

"Oh hush!" You pushed her slightly, she just laughed.

"So tell me about him"

"Um, he was handsome? I think his name was Hajun? No, Hyunwoo? I don't remember. I was a little frazzled last night. Plus we only talked for a second after we both ended up on the floor" you muttered, leaning back in your chair again looking at the ceiling. When your phone buzzed.

-why are yours perhaps a different color

-say orange? 😏

--Well I never expected you to be my soulmate after all this time….

- what are you going on about? My eyes are still a perfect green and purple.

--Chan what do you know...

- Far more than you think

--Chan tell me! Did you talk to Hyunwoo?

-I don't know a Hyunwoo.

-do you perhaps mean Hyunjin?

-- YES! Hyunjin! Are his eyes also orange

-- dumb question

--you told me orange before I told you what color my eyes are.

-this is actually very entertaining

- you're over thinking everything aren't you.

-- Shut up Chan!

-- Do you have his info

- Maybe, but you told me to shut up so I will!

--Chan! No!

-- Please!

--I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you! I need his number.

- Only if you do something for me

-- I don't like where this is going...

- you never do.

- dinner 6 pm tonight, at Ombu downtown.

- be there and I might give you what you want after you pay for dinner.

-- You only like me for my money

- I have more money than you!

--So you say, but I always pay.

- just meet me at 6.

"So Chan knows who it is, but won't give me his information" you said looking at Joy who was now actually working at her desk. Like you should be.

"Typical Chan, let me guess. Making you buy him dinner in exchange for the information." You nodded. "I swear whoever his soulmate is better cook well, he will do anything in exchange for food" she shook her head.

Work was over soon enough, and so you changed into jeans and a blouse, did a small amount of makeup and headed downtown. Ombu was your typical spot to go with Chan. Delicious Korean barbecue, their meat selections far better than the other places around. Which is why Chan always insisted on going there.

"Welcome, Y/N! Chan is already waiting for you" Rose the usual hostess said guiding you towards your usual back corner booth, Chan loved this booth, he could people watch and it had the best hot plate.

"Thanks Rose!" You say as she motions towards the table. Your eyes grew as you looked at the table. Not only seeing Chan, but you couldn't stop staring at the orange eyed man next to him. "Hyunjin, right?" You said softly as you took your seat, he nodded a smile came across his face as he stared at you.

You finally started to understand why those couples would just stare into one another's eyes. His eyes were intriguing, bringing you a sense of peace. His eyes looked like the flames of the comforting campfires you enjoyed so much as a child. You almost wanted to just curl up and look in his eyes forever.

"Well, now I can see this is going to be awkward. So I'm just going to order food to get the dinner started" Chan said. You hadn't even realized the waiter had come to the table to take your order.

"Sorry" you and Hyunjin muttered at the same time. Followed by nervous giggles.

"I wasn't expecting to see you tonight," you said to Hyunjin. "Chan wanted dinner in exchange for your information. I didn't think he would bring you"

"Well, I asked him to keep me informed last night, after I couldn't find you. So once he told me you guys were getting dinner I wouldn't let him tell me no" his hand drifted towards yours on the table.

"So you're persistent," you noted.

"Very." He smirked moving closer.

"Look, guys I want dinner. Can't you guys make heart eyes at each other afterwards. I just want to eat. And if this continues, you guys are going to make me sick." Chan groaned.

"I'll try to behave," you said as you reached towards Hyunjins hand, taking it in yours.

"You don't know how to behave." Chan teased. You just rolled your eyes, shaking your head. You usually would say something back, but you were slightly distracted by the soft circles being drawn by Hyunjins thumb on the back of your hand.

Two weeks later you sat in Hyunjins apartment. Cuddling as you watched an action comedy. Your head resting on his chest as his arm draped around you. You started to get to know your match well. You found out he worked at the large musical academy. He taught dance, and music history. He was doing quite well for himself, he had a nice place, a car, and was decently responsible with his money.

Hyunjin was your soulmate, your match. Aside from that first night at ombu with Chan; the two of you did your best not to be disgustingly cute in front of those who didn't have their match yet. Such as his roommate Han, who usually ended up joining the two of you for movie nights.

Truthfully life was good, you felt less bitter about it all. Of course it wasn't perfect, and you still had a lot to learn about the other, but this was what you needed. You needed someone who was whole, who had a kind heart and soul. And that was what you got, it was just a perk that he was ridiculously attractive.

Hyunjin was grateful to have finally found you too. He didn't mind being younger. He loved your caring heart, protected by its sarcastic shell. He couldn't believe he met someone who already had so much drive and compassion. He loved your playful banter with his friends, he was grateful you accepted his friends and did your best to make them comfortable. Plus he couldn't ever take his eyes off of you. In his mind you were perfect in every way, despite the flaws you insisted you had.

He felt lucky being the first of his friends to find his match.

-- Orange meaning: warmth, enthusiasm, success, encouragement, change, determination, stimulation, happiness, fun, sexuality, freedom, expression, and fascination. --

#happy Hyunjin day #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids fan fiction #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz hyunjin #skz soulmate au #soulmate au #stray kids soulmate au #hyunjin soulmate au #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids angst

104 notes · View notes

just-a-quirkless-loser · 4 years

Text

Maybe We’re Not Meant To Be

Alpha Izuku x Omega Reader

Warning: Sexual Content Below

Word Count: 3.9K

Two years of dating Izuku was no easy task. As sweet as the man is, he often blundered when it came to the love life (or the lack thereof) the two of you shared. No one questions his devotion to you. You’re cold? Midoriya will give you the shirt off his back. You’re hungry? Midoriya runs to the nearest store to grab you something (he doesn't care if it’s miles away). Two years of dating the most considerate person in the world yet, you selfishly yearned for more.

A mating mark; a silent reminder to onlookers that you were taken by one of the most eligible alphas in Japan. You wanted your skin to be marred by his long fangs and you wanted to leave your own mark on him. But after two years of waiting, it felt as though maybe he didn’t want to mark you.

‘Maybe we’re not meant to be.’

At first, you didn’t mind that Midoriya wasn't quick to ask to bound you; it showed that he cared about you rather than force himself on you for the rest of your life. It was nice to have him court you but, you’re getting older. You never wanted to admit that biology was correct but, you felt yourself slowly facing the realities.

It’s easy to push the want away, hiding it deep in your mind to only ponder over every once in a while. But, every once in a while becomes every day. It makes you wonder if there’s something wrong with you.

You watch as all of your friends start to show off their marks, they start to get married, one by one having pups. And, you’re there for all of it. Silently cheering everyone else on from the sideline but, awaiting your turn to race.

You’re quietly bitter. All you can think about is having mini versions of Midoriya and yourself running around. What would they look like? What would they smell like? Would they want to be heroes? Your desire to have a physical manifestation of your love to care for and nurture grew. It seems like the closest you’ll ever get to that dream is when you're around other people’s pups.

“Wow, Y/N! How did you get her to be that quiet?” Uraraka asks you with an amazed expression. She watched you cuddle her close to your chest, rocking her off to sleep after her latest tantrum. “You're such a natural.”

“Thank you. I've always loved kids,” you're mesmerised by the rise and fall of the pups chest as she breathes. It’s nice having something so small depend on you.

“You’d make a great mom,” she doesn’t miss how you tense and, for the fleetest of moments, a scent of resentment seeps from your pores. Why should you have to sit and take care of someone else’s baby when you want one? “I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“No, no, you’re fine. I was just thinking,” you put the sleeping pup down to its duvet. “I want one. I want what you have so bad it hurts.”

“Why don’t you talk to Deku? I’m sure he’d love to have a baby with you,” she smiles to push your hurt away but, it only makes you grimace eternally.

“For us to talk, he’d have to be home for more than thirty minutes before he crashes out in bed,” that ends the conversation. You knew that dating a pro hero with ambitions like Izuku’s would be no walk in the park however, you didn't think it would be this hard.

You know he didn’t mean to but, Midoriya has inadvertently neglected you. First, it was forgetting date night due to the need to pursue a link to a villian. Then, it was forgetting your birthday to finish some paperwork. It seemed like something always popped up that Midoriya had to follow but, you couldn’t hold a grudge; he’s always been the type to help.

‘You knew what you were getting into when you chose to date him,’ you blamed yourself. You can't just expect him to change (and you grew bitter for that as well).

“Izuku,” you started across from him on the floor. He looked up at you with those dark green hues, giving you his full attention. “Izuku, why haven’t you marked me yet?”

“Y-Y/N, ahh you caught me off guard. I mean, do you want me to mark you?” he always does this; reverse the question when he doesn’t know the right answer.

“Izuku, I asked you a question,” you put your chopsticks down.

“Well, I don’t think I should bind myself to you,” cue the dramatic scent drop. “N-No it’s not you, it’s me. Okay, that sounds cliché but I just, I don't want to keep you from finding someone better.”

‘THERE ISN’T ANYONE BETTER THAN YOU,’ the words were stuck in your mouth. The conversation should have ended there but you were hurt.

“Y/N, please, say something. Are you mad?”

‘Yes.’ “No.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t take-”

“I’m fantastic. Just not as hungry as I thought I was. But, I’m glad you told me. Now, how was your day?” It hurts but your grin through it. The conversation shouldn’t end there but, you have no desire to see what other bullshit can leave the alpha’s mouth.

You know he doesn’t mean it in this way but, doesn’t that mean that Midoriya doesn’t see you as a life partner? Wouldn’t it be safe to say that he’d leave you if he found someone better? Weren’t you just wasting your time?

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can talk about it if you want,” he pauses to yawn. “Maybe, tomorrow though. It was such a long day. All Might was-“ ahh yes, All Might. You’re sure you know more about him than you do about Midoriya’s mother.

You feel unwanted, used, and taken advantage of. You do everything for him: cook, clean, support, help him with leads that stump him, drag him to bed, bandage him up. Yet, your efforts have only gotten you in a position where you’re positive Midoriya only keeps you around for entertainment. It’s a bad feeling.

But, you can’t bring yourself to pack your belongings and leave. Your inner Omega is intertwined with his, even without the mating mark. She wants to be with him till the very end; till either one of you dies and the other soon follows into the afterlife.

But, the feelings just keep growing. They’re in the back of your mind as you kiss Izuku, they’re in the corner of your bedroom as you cuddle with him, they’re blaring in the car as you falsely laugh. So, you suppose it’s half your fault that things have gotten to the point that they currently are.

Today, you woke up in a particularly good mood. Midoriya had made your favorite breakfast and kissed you roughly before he left the house.

“I have a feeling something’s going to happen today; make sure to call me when you get to work and when you get home,” his lips pressed down on you almost urgently, making your insides quiver. “And, make sure you check your surroundings.”

“I will Izuku. I’ll see you later,” and he went out to save the world. You got dressed in some leggings and a blouse and headed off to your café. While it wasn’t the flashiest job for a person with a powerful quirk like yours, you loved watching the little pups pick out what they wanted. Occasionally, you could even pick them up.

“Hai, Y/N. I have some fresh scones waiting to be put out,” one of your workers greeted you. You h/c colored hair was pulled into a messy game, a few tendril framing your face. There was a low gust of air from the door behind you. Another mother with her pup.

You got to work helping wherever you could, throwing powder sugar at your workers whenever they were being too impatient; you have a knack for doing things slowly till you get them perfect.

“As to be expected of such an analytical quirk,” one of your best employees, Kagey, tells you.

“You’re just mad because I won’t allow you to rush my beautiful cakes,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“No, I’m mad because you’ve made me wait for ten minutes just so you could place those fucking cakes. And they’re placed crooked. I could’ve been over there serving that hottie. Look at himmmm,” Kagey shakes your shoulders while fawning over some unsuspecting soul.

“Ummm, you forget I have Izuku,” you raise one of your eyebrows.

“There’s no crime in looking. It’s not like you’ve got a mark,” you crack your neck. “Sorry, I forget that’s a sore subject for you. “

“It’s fine. And, who’s the poor victim you’re staring at this time,” he points to a man you’re well acquainted with: Monoma Neito.

His blonde hair is still light but he’s grown it to be a little above his shoulders. Those beady eyes that used to be rimming with anger and discontent are finally happy and playful. He’s filled out, body-wise, and you can tell he’s bulging with muscle.

‘Izuku’s better.’

“Damn, that glow hit him like a truck,” Kagey pushes your shoulders forward. “Okay, bitch, stop being pushy.”

“Ofcourse, you know a beefcake like that. Introduce me to him! I’d love to get my tongue on him,” you shudder with disgust at that mental image. “Don’t look like that. My men always leave me satisfied.”

“I didn’t know that was how people describe STI’s nowadays. I really am a Boomer now,” he smack you upside the head. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Just stop hitting me.”

You wander over to Monoma, trying to decide what’s the best way to approach him. You decide on being direct.

“Monoma,” he turns and his face lights up with recognition. “Hai, it’s been so long. Welcome to my shop”

“Y/N!? You own this place? I would’ve thought you’d want to be a hero. It’s good to see you,” he grabs your hand in his. His hands are warm, no doubt he’s probably feeling the strength of your quirk. He’s always been the handsy type. “You’re single? What happened to Izuku?”

“We’re still together. We’re just taking things slow,” you shrugged off his gaze. “Plenty of people do it.”

“So, no mark and no ring. You’re basically single,” you ruffle up and his tone. You had forgotten he can be as blunt as yourself, one of the main reasons you had been good friends.

“You could say that if that’s what you believe. But, this isn’t about me. My friend over there, Kagey,” you point your thumb over at the fool. “He wanted to know if you’d like to go on a date.”

“You and I both know I’m straight. But, I appreciate the offer,” Monoma raises his voice so Kagey can hear. You can hear muffled cursing about straight men behind you following his statement. “But, I’d love to take you out sometime this week.”

“I have Izuku.”

“Do you really? You know alphas are preconditioned to mark what they feel belongs to them. What does that say about you?” He knows exactly how to manipulate your mind.

“...when are you free?”

***

You were shaking as you applied your makeup. Today was the day that you were going to go on a small date with Monoma. Nothing too serious; just an outing with a friend that just so happens to be an alpha.

Why were you shaking? Well, you hadn’t told Izuku about your plans. He normally gets home later in the night and you had planned on getting back from your date earlier than him. But, what if he found out? Well, it shouldn't matter, right?

He did tell you that you could find someone else (although, now as the moment was nearing, you started to doubt how serious he was when he told you). So, it shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not like you were planning on running away with this alpha. But, would Izuku understand that?

‘He’s not even going to find out. No point in worrying about it,’ you hissed as you accidentally poked your eye with your makeup brush.

The soft material of the skirt stretched across your thighs as you paced through the halls. Were you really going to do this?

“Y/N, I’m home baby. I picked up some pizza for us,” you froze. Out of all the times for Izuku to come home early, he chose the day when you were going to converse with another alpha. You thought about trying to run back to the bedroom but he was already halfway to the kitchen and he would most likely hear you.

“Ohhhh that’s great. Really great,” you inched towards the couch to try to cover yourself in the pillows.

“Yeah, why are you covered in the pillows? Are you building a new nest here? Want me to go get my shirts?” You immediately felt guilty all over again. Here you were about to betray him and he’s being selfless.

“NOOO, no, just, stay right there,” you sink in further as you hoped he’d leave you alone. Unfortunately for you, Izuku doesn’t leave anything alone if he thinks something is wrong.

“What’s wrong, omega?” He gets closer and sniffs the air. “Are you wearing perfume?”

“Yeahhhh, wanted to try something new,” you avoid eye contact.

“Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“...”

“Omega, look at me please.”

“Izuku, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Look at me.”

You look at him with small tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Awww, omega. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He starts to emit a soothing smell for you.

“Izuku, I have a-“ the doorbell interrupts you. You know it’s Monoma. You know you can’t get up to get the door. You know that you are fucked.

“I’ll get it. But, when they leave, we are talking about what’s wrong,” you gulp. You hear Midoriya open the door.

“Midoriya, it’s nice to see you. Is Y/N ready?” There’s the nail in the coffin.

“What do you mean?

“We have a date tonight.”

“No you fucking don’t.”

“Um, we do. I asked her out the other day at her café,” you hear silence till you hear the unmistakable sound of Izuku’s growl. The air becomes stiffling as his pheromones threaten to choke you to death. You cower in the pillows, listening to Izuku grab Monoma and pull him into the room. No matter how much he told you he’d be fine with you finding another alpha, you should’ve known your actions would drive him feral.

“Why the fuck is he here?” Izuku snarled in your face. You were silently sobbing, ashamed of what your actions had caused. “FUCKING ANSWER ME, OMEGA.”

“Y-you’re the one that said you weren’t mating me in case I found someone better,” you pushed the pillow into his face as you stood to defend yourself. “Why are you so fucking mad? You drove me to this.”

“Don’t try to fucking blame me. You should have told me. So, you really want him?” You nodded your head to spite him. “No, you don’t. You just want to piss me off. Well, if that’s the objection, you accomplished your goal. Now, strip.”

“What?” The false confidence was wearing off.

“You wanted to make me mad and you did. You want a mating mark? I’ll give you one. Now, strip for your punishment,” you shakily point to Monoma that was wide-eyed in Izuku’s grip. “Yes, in front of him. He needs to see you belong to me since he’s clearly a visual learner.”

You slowly reach behind and unzip your skirt. You push the fabric down your legs to bunch at you ankles, step out of them, and shakily pull at the hem of your shirt. You lock eyes with Monoma as you pull it above your head. The air feels cold against your soft skin. You stand there in your bra and panties, awaiting Izuku’s next command.

“I said strip. Keep going,” you gulp.

“I should leave,” Izuku slams Monoma into a chair. He grips his shoulder so hard you can hear a small crack.

“Nahhhh, stay. I’m sure you knew she belonged to me but, this is a good reminder,” Izuku turns back to watch your breasts spill from your bra. Your nipples pebble from the attention you’re getting. You slip your panties down your legs, reaching for a pillow to cover yourself.

“No, show him what belongs to me. Turn around and bend over,” you slowly turn, placing your hands on the sofa behind you. You clench your legs together. You bend at the waist, hearing two sharp intakes of breath.

You stand there like an exhibit, slick pooling in between your legs. You’re sure they can see your nether lips glistening with arousal as well as the wall, your breasts hanging from the position.

“Look at how wet she is for me, Monoma. I bet you wish she was like that for you,” Izuku’s breath fans across your ass. His hands gently cups your waist, tugging you backwards so he can muzzle your ass crack. “Such a beautiful body. All mine.”

“IZUKU,” you scream out as he suddenly slaps your ass. It makes more slick fall between your legs but, it still stings as a punishment. “I’ll be good omega.”

“I know baby. You’re always such a good girl. You just need to be corrected. I’ve been giving you a little too much free reign. Wanted to be sensitive alpha. Wanted to give you time. No more of that,” you shivered at the promise. “Gonna give you exactly what you need.”

A tirade of smacks rain down on your behind, lighting up your backside. You yelp and try to pull away but are restrained by Izuku’s strong arms. He’s the one supporting your weight as you crash down against the couch, the front half of your body slumped down.

“Awww, is Omega tired? But, we��re just getting started,” from behind you, you can hear Monoma’a breathing get heavier. “Let’s give fuckface a good show baby.”

You’re about to question what he means when Izuku stands up, walks over, and rips the tie from Monoma’s neck. He walks back over to you, tying your arms together.

“I’m in control,” he says. You quiver when you hear Izuku’s knees hit the floor behind you. Only moments later his face is buried in your heat, lapping like a dog. It sounds so lewd to hear him slurp at your juices.

He starts off slowly kissing the backs of your thighs, gripping you by your ass cheeks as he pulls your globes apart. You feel exposed when he takes an exaggerated sniff. “I’ve missed this. Need to start being more attentive to my baby.”

He licks up and down your slit, lightly nibbling on your clit as he circles it, pulling it between his lips to give it a harsh suck. Your hole clenches around nothing as you moan and try to cant your hips into his face. Your efforts are rewarded with a warning smack.

“Just enjoy my tongue,” he positions you to be on your knees as he continues to eat you out. He first slips in one finger to the knuckle, reveling in the debauched groan that leaves your beautiful lips. Your lips are parted as drool rubs down the left side of your face. Your eyes go crossed eyed from Izuku slipping in another finger and curling them upwards, those two fingers touching that spongy texture inside of you. The perfect Ahegao face. A vision of wrecked.

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers,” he continues to finger fuck you through your orgasm, latching back onto your clit. You shiver from the overstimulation, wanting to run with nowhere to go. You’ve forgotten Monoma as you whimper.

“Zuku’ too much. Please,” you’re shaking as you bite into the sofa to mute your screams.

“Aht aht aht, I wanna hear you fucking moan for me. Let him know who’s making you feel this good,” he allows his lone hand to stroke your stomach, knowing that was one of your sweet spots. You whine loudly as you cum once again, mascara running.

“Nooo more. Izuku. Please. Alpha,” you’re stuck there. Forced to take all the pleasure he gives you.

“I think you can give me more baby,” he removes himself from you as he unbuttoned his jeans. “Monoma, you wanna know something funny.”

“What?”

“I bet you thought you’d be the one to fuck her pretty pussy tonight,” Izuku laughs with no amusement behind the sound. “Never thought you’d be forced to watch.”

Izuku pushes his hard cock between your legs, smearing your juices across his shaft. He grabs his cock as he toys with your entrance, pushing the tip of his cock between your lips and groaning at the sight. Your pussy grips the tips in a vice, trying to suck him in further.

“Alpha, stop teasing me. Please. More. Give it to me.”

“I thought you couldn’t take anymore,” he teases.

“Pleaseeeee ohiuuhhh yess,” you throw your head back when you feel him push all the way in in one motion. Your toes curl as his cock strains against your walls, forcing you to take it all. He expertly pulls back and gives an experimental thrust.

“Look at that pussy, Monoma. Isn’t it nice? Too bad you’ll never get to feel my pussy,” he sets a bruising pace, never giving you a chance to recover. You hear your own whines mixed in with his pelvis slapping against your ass, your body rocking forward from the force of his body.

He wraps his hand around your neck, lifting your body so he can make you meet his thrusts. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum around his cock but, you’re okay with being used like a cocksleeve.

“I’m gonna fuck my babies into your tight pussy. Gonna breed you,” you mewl. “Is that what you wanted? Pups?”

You nod as you cry, partly from the overstimulation but also from the emotional state you’ve been reduced to.

“I’ll give you as many pups as you want. Looks like I’ll have to fuck you out of your mind more to get you to talk to me,” he growls beside your side and he leans over you, crushing you beneath him as he pushes your body to scrunch beneath him, pounding you like he hated you.

“Are you gonna cum again,” you nod due to your raw throat. You’re clenching and the pleasure starts to build but, this time, it feels different. Your vision goes out as you spasm, stars coming across your eyes as you squirt all over his cock, making a mess on the cock bellow you. Your tightness pushes Izuku into his orgasm.

“Cum for me, Omega. Cum for your alpha,” you whine as you spasm but nothing comes out. He’s pushed you into a dry orgasm. You feel his hot spurts of cum enter your pussy, coating everywhere inside of you. His teeth sink into your neck, making you his forever.

“Izuku,” you whine.

“Feels good, omega?” You nod. He slowly pulls out from behind you, tapping your ass like a horse.

“Get the fuck out,” Monoma doesn’t have to be told twice as he runs out. Izuku grabs a few baby wipes from the kitchen and comes back to wipe your pussy.

“You’re mine. Never forget that.”

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

I hope you all enjoyed this. I was asked to write this a longgggg time ago and I’m so sorry for it taking so much time to complete. I rewrote this a total of three times and I’m finally happy with the end result.

Tag List: @sakurashortstack @sinclairsamess

1K notes · View notes

arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

an inconvenient crush // kenma kozume x reader (1/2)

Author’s Note: A new story?? SO SOON?? Thank you for all the love for my previous Kuroo story, it meant the world to me. I write for myself primarily, yes, but it brings me SO MUCH JOY to know that my words reach you. It helps with the motivation to put them out more often. Thank you. This story is very close to my heart because I’m a gamer, although I don’t stream. I’m more like Kenma though, personality wise. Haha.

Word count: 5k+

Pairing: YouTuber! Kenma Kozume x Streamer! Reader

Summary: YouTuber Kozume Kenma has had the biggest crush on Twitch Streamer, (s/n) (y/n), who in actuality simps heavily after Kenma's secret YouTube persona, puddinghead0.

What happens when their paths cross?

Kuroo is honestly tired of Kenma's second-guessing, and (y/n) is a bit of a crackhead.

Warnings: unrequited love, one-sided crush, slight angst, pining, crackhead reader, internet bullying, slang, gaming references, haikyuu manga spoilers, fluff

C h a p t e r O n e : puddinghead0

Kozume Kenma suddenly turned existential when his eyes shifted to his phone screen for the 12th time in ten minutes.

Was he always doing this? Was he always obsessed with his phone to a point where he'd constantly check for notifications? Did this mean he was deeply lonely on the inside and wanted approval from people on a virtual platform, which meant that the approval was also virtual and none of it was real? Did it mean that he craved to nullify the growing void in his chest by distracting himself with a black mirror that showcased light that could permanently impair his sight?

He let out a breath and forced himself not to look at his phone. He didn't care. It didn't matter. That's what he always said.

"Hey!" His classmate/room-mate screamed from the entrance to his flat, "Are you watching her stream? Posted two minutes ago!"

His phone was definitely slow. He had been checking his phone but there was no notification. Letting out a breath, and giving himself a mental reason to actually check his phone, Kenma opened the notifications tab to see the one notification he had kept his eye out for had been buried under ridiculous facebook notifs.

An inconvenient crush, that's what he told himself whenever he looked at you. You were a streamer, a bit different from what he did on YouTube because you were primarily on Twitch. There were reaction videos of you on YouTube, which was where he found you, but damn—how could one be pretty while rage-quitting a game? It was abnormal. Nothing about you was normal; college student/Twitch streamer, an apparent baker in your mother's bakery, game reviewer for Sony, and you were insanely cute.

"She's getting to that part," his roommate commented from behind Kenma's back, while Kenma really just wanted to watch the video in peace, "Shit, she's gonna cry."

You did cry, quite a few times, and too easily if he could add. You cried at the ending of God of War, you cried to The Last of Us (which made sense, but you were perhaps just bawling throughout the entire game), you cried in a game called Detroit: Become Human, you cried far too easily, but you never really quit. He loved how passionate you were about games, and it was the sort of passion he could completely understand.

"Oh shit," You said in the video, your eyes scanning all over the game screen, "What's happening? What's happening?"

Kenma chuckled at how cute you were, god, you were killing him. You looked worried, and he could visibly see a sweat drop on your forehead, but you were so focused that it didn't matter. Suddenly, there was a screaming sound from the game you were playing, and your eyes popped open as wide as they possibly could and you just sat there, unmoving. He loved how you never squealed or made any loud reactions, except when you were in a fight with a difficult boss, but whenever something traumatic happened, you just froze and sunk it all in. You were currently playing the second part of The Last of Us, and a traumatic scene was definitely happening. Kenma had just finished playing it the night before, so every scene you were playing was familiar.

"I officially hate this game," You said, your voice breaking and he desperately wanted to hold you, "Fucking hell."

"God, she's amazing." Kenma's roommate said, eyes turning into literal hearts.

"Hm." Yeah, she is, Kenma thought, but could never really say.

As a YouTuber himself who streams games, he was aware that you were not as popular, and it was a fact that he really didn't like. Sure, you were on a less popular platform, but Twitch was incredibly popular by itself as well. He also understood the bias that came with being a female gamer, and while it sounded ridiculous to him, Kenma was one of those people who believed gaming required no gender.

He adored your content, and he secretly adored the hell out of you, so seeing you soar would only make him happy.

"I... I can practically feel what pain she's feeling right now," You spoke about the game, a lone tear threatening to leak out of your eye, "But! We shall persevere. I've been waiting 7 years for this game, so I won't let... won't let something like this halt my interest. Let's see if this has a point to it all."

God, he adored you. But, Kenma considered it an inconvenient crush because of course, the world was small. The first big crush he has on someone and he hoped it would remain over the internet, but it just had to become something more tangible, something that could make him weak in the knees.

You, a college student/Twitch streamer, an apparent baker in your mother's bakery, a game reviewer for Sony, insanely cute, and also happened to be one of his YouTube channel's biggest fans.

He had only recently discovered your personal twitter handle, and dear lord, you were simping after him with no remorse. It wasn't as if he was all you talked about, but he had also noticed the trajectory of the games you were playing were on par with his own timeline. Kenma had finished his final stream for The Last of Us II just the night before and you had now started playing it. Right before that, it was Bloodborne, and before that, it was Final Fantasy VII Remake. However, your public handle was a lot more professional and despite knowing that it was there, he hadn't sent you a follow request because well, Kenma called himself an introvert in every matter but Kuroo just said he was shy.

While he knew that he could easily approach you and have you know he knew of your existence, Kenma preferred not to get into such detail. It was comfortable admiring you from afar, and it was comfortable being where he was—he had his company to work hard over, he was also a computer student and a YouTuber. Sure, he had his hands full especially after calling you abnormal for something that he himself was doing, but he never really fit into a bracket anyway. Kenma's latent obsession with you was something he wasn't particularly proud of and this wasn't because it had anything to do with you, but simply because he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Change, in many ways, scared him. And by changing the structure or dynamics of him admiring you in secret, while you admired him not so secretly, Kenma was certain that it might not lead where he may have wanted it to go.

Surely, Kuroo was against this sort of caution, calling it cowardly and saying it lacked passion; but Kenma knew it was just a crush. There was no way he could deduce the kind of person you were based on how you gamed or reacted to games, based on the little tid-bits of information you gave out while playing those games, or even how you openly spoke about how much you admired 'puddinghead0's videos. Kenma hated Kuroo for giving him that name, but he was too lazy to come up with a new one.

"Also," You sprung up in the final two minutes of your latest video, "I'm on Patreon, now! I honestly have no idea how it works, but if you really like the content I make and want to support me, you can become a patron and wish me luck!"

Kenma waited for his stupid roommate to go out of his room before he could open Patreon and find your link, which was thankfully in the description. Without a second thought, he donated to your profile but cussed instantly when he realized what he had done.

He had sent you a donation as himself, as 'puddinghead0's Patreon.

Without a second thought, Kenma called Kuroo and explained what had happened.

"That is why, Kenma, you need to check a thousand times and not let blind love navigate your actions—"

"If I knew you were going to spout such nonsense I wouldn't have called you."

He could hear Kuroo snicker while he ran a hand through his hair. Kenma groaned before Kuroo said, "How bad is this, Kenma? She'll be happy. Of course, this means she'll know you watch her content, but how bad can this be?"

"I didn't want her to know."

"And leave her devoid of the happiness of having her idol appreciate her content? You're cold, Kenma."

"You don't understand. What if... What if she tries to contact me?"

"You, my friend, have not even shared your personal account anywhere. The only way she can contact you is by commenting on your videos, which I am sure you check constantly to see if she did comment, or Tweeting, which she does every three days."

Kenma blushed at the accusation because it was true.

"She won't know who you are. Besides, there's no harm if she even does contact you! Just tell her casually that yeah, you like her contact. I don't see what the big deal is."

"Of course you don't—"

"Oh, she's tweeted something."

Kenma's entire body froze. Leaving Kuroo on the call, Kenma opened Twitter on his laptop and there it was, your latest tweet.

I am trying NOT to freak out over puddinghead sending me a donation on Patreon, pls save my soul, I am dead.

Kenma groaned before hearing Kuroo laugh once more, "She's adorable!"

I know that, Kenma thought before feeling his entire face flash up. Ending Kuroo's call, Kenma looked at your public profile before then moving to your personal one. He wasn't following that one either, but he wanted to see your tweets, he wanted to know more about you—he wouldn't deny any of these facts, but Kenma believed it was far too idiotic to dream of getting to know you through a virtual media. He wasn't even the sort of person to become close to people he met in real life, how could he allow himself a virtual friendship?

The thought staggered him, and the idea behind it was what kept him at bay. Kenma wanted to know about you, talk to you, learn about who you were and what you were doing, but he felt the media that connected you was what separated you.

It wasn't cowardice at all if he was just sticking to the facts and being real.

The next day, Kenma walked to his class by himself, listening to the latest podcast by Joe Rogan. While the external sound wasn't entirely muted, Kenma could discern sounds of people talking, cars moving around, and other noises even though he was playing the podcast on full sound. However, there was one sound in particular that stood out. Kenma paused before turning to his right, noticing a crowd of people had gathered there, with some sort of event going on. He didn't pay attention to half the events that his college conducted, his mind was obviously quite busy elsewhere, but when the announcer moved around in a weird Joker cosplaying outfit, Kenma was a tad bit intrigued.

Was it gaming related?

He slowly moved toward the crowd before finally being able to hear what the anchor was saying.

"We've got prizes for the top three best performers, and one of the participants is the one and only (s/n) (y/n), streamer from Twitch!"

Kenma froze, half-minded to run the hell away from there. But, it seemed as if his feet were stuck to the ground. How had he not known this? Didn't you always announce the events you go to? Why were you suddenly here? A second later, he spotted you, hair put up in an updo, a plain black tee, and regular jeans. You were smiling, but some part of that smile seemed a bit hesitant.

"We will be playing a bit differently today! Instead of the usual Fortnite battles or Apex Legends, we'll be going went and battling out on Red Dead Online! And of course, if you beat (y/n) here you earn bragging rights!"

He noticed you shift in your position a little bit, clearly uncomfortable with the attention you were getting; it didn't even look like you wanted to be there. Kenma could feel his chest hurt, and his palms were sweating now. That's all it is, he told himself. An inconvenient crush, an inconvenient crush, that's all.

Kenma sighed before noticing how he barely knew anyone there and was almost thankful for that fact; but before he could thank his stars, a hand threw itself around his neck and sprung him forward, earning the attention of not just everyone there, but especially you.

"We have our first participant," It was his goddamn roommate, "Kenma's a brilliant gamer!"

Kenma's eyes immediately found yours, and you were looking at him with wide, confused eyes. Although this was set in the open and the atmosphere was quite cold, Kenma felt nothing but warmth radiating all over his body at the mere sight of you; you were just a few feet away, and you were giving him a rather sympathetic expression, and god, you looked so fucking pretty—

"That's great! Sign up, ya'll! Winner will be winning a brand new DualShock 4!"

Oh fuck, Kenma thought before he felt his heart beginning to pound. He was now seated beside you, and he could practically shrink into non-existence. You were unmoving, and you weren't looking at him, but would you have looked at him if you knew he was puddinghead? Insecurity swarmed his being and he could practically feel steam escaping his ears but a moment later, he thought he'd die.

"This was so last minute," you said, rubbing the back of your neck, "The anchor's my cousin and she's so demanding."

"Oh," Kenma said, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket, "I see."

"Yeah! I mean," You giggled now, "I'm not even good at Red Dead Online!"

Kenma smirked, knowing the fact already. You struggled with Red Dead Redemption not because you were bad, but because you couldn't progress with a plot so divisive. You wanted to explore more, and since the game was so vast, you barely bothered with the Online version. You turned to him now and tilted your head.

"You're a gamer, I heard? Kozume-kun, right?"

Fuck, she knows my name, "Y-Yeah. I game when I'm free."

"Do you have a Twitch or YouTube?"

There's no fucking way I'll answer that, "No—"

"Ah, you must really be having a great time then."

Kenma blinked before turning to you with confusion. What did you mean?

"Don't you enjoy streaming?"

"Ah, no, no," You flailed your hands shyly, and Kenma believed he could combust, "It's not like that. I just think, after a point, streaming becomes more for the fans than for yourself. I used to do it for me, but now... I'm needed in places like this for promotion, and I need to have a Patreon if I'm popular or it'll look weird, I don't know... Too many restrictions. I just love gaming, you know?"

Kenma found himself smiling, "Yeah, I know. I've seen your videos."

"Oh?"

Kenma's eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself on his forehead.

"I—I mean, y-you're popular."

"Thanks! You're really sweet, Kozume-kun!"

Fucking hell, Kenma placed a hand on his forehead, She's too cute.

"Say," you said, a sly tone to your voice, "Do you want to get out of here?"

"I'd do anything." Kenma honestly agreed.

But, you couldn't just up and leave. You were called here as Twitch streamer (s/n) (y/n), and that meant your behavior was restricted. As much as you seemed to hate said restriction, Kenma was certain that you wouldn't go against it. It could take a big blow against your viewership, and you wouldn't take that chance.

A second later, your hand gripped his wrist before you shot him a wink. Kenma's heart jumped to the skies before you pulled him away from the crowd, with participants lining the entrance to enter their names. Sure, you were doing something bad—your cousin wanted you there, but not once had she even asked if you wanted to be a part of this event. Just as Kenma was pulled in without his consent. You weren't a competitive gamer, and you were not going to be, even if it was for someone else. After running away a fair distance, Kenma felt the part of his wrist burn right where you were touching him.

"I think I need to run more in real life and not just as Ellie." You said, and Kenma chuckled.

"Running's good."

"I used to run track," You said, turning to him. "Now I run in games and that's it."

You have no right being that cute, he thought before clearing his throat. He slowly pulled away from you, which made your eyes widen before shooting him an apologetic smile. He was a bit confused as to what you had done, did this mean you didn't care about losing followers?

"You might think that I've committed career suicide," You scoffed, "Honestly, this is the bravest I've been in so long."

"What do you mean?"

You shrugged, "Ever since I became a bit popular by streaming, I've just... I could feel myself change with the way my viewers wanted me to be? I don't blame them or anything, I just think that the love I get from them makes me yearn for more. And that yearning leaves me... inept to be myself. It's the downside of wanting to remain popular, I guess."

"It's not like you can't be yourself and still be popular." Kenma added.

"Yeah I know," You said, "I mean, just look at puddinghead0, we don't even know what he looks like, and wow. I adore his content."

Kenma froze once more. Was this being recorded? Did Kuroo finally tip you off and was this being filmed for his reaction? Whatever it was, he wasn't going to reveal to you now.

"Y-Yeah, I think he just doesn't care."

"I wish I was more like that because I end up caring. I like the comments and the views and the love. Agh, it's such a weird complex moral question. Don't even get me started."

Kenma laughed at your reaction before you turned to him and stuck a tongue out. Kenma rolled his eyes before waving a hand at you.

"If anything," Kenma said, looking at the ground, "You didn't lose this follower today."

Your eyes widened at his statement. You smiled before nodding, and let out a chuckle.

"Thank you, Kozume-kun."

Locking the door to his room, Kenma began to edit for his latest video. He was making a review for The Last of Us 2, but his mind was elsewhere. He still hadn't told Kuroo that he had met you, which would only cause the black-haired man to tease him relentlessly. Letting out a sigh, he felt sleep douse his eyelids as he continued the edit, right before a notification popped up on his phone.

It was you.

He narrowed his eyes before checking the date and time; it was unusual for you to stream live on random days. He'd learned your pattern by now. You'd been doing this for a couple of months, and it was quite easy for him to know just when and what time you'd begin. However, the screen for The Last of Us 2 was open and you looked like you had just stopped crying. His heart broke at the sight, and he instantly closed the tabs to his own edit, before opening your video on his monitor. You were taking deep breaths before chuckling.

"Hello to everyone that's still with me," You sounded so broken, Kenma felt helpless as he continued staring at you, "You might be wondering why I'm... yeah. So, I did something and I guess I got punished for it? I was forced into a game contest and I think walking out of it made some of my followers mad. I even spoke to this other person about walking out and honestly, it didn't hit me then that what puddinghead's doing takes a lot of courage."

"Ah, fuck, (y/n)," Kenma groaned.

"I guess even when I expected to lose followers, I didn't expect the hate? Some of the comments were just... nasty. I..." You sniffed, "...I didn't expect that you would hate on someone for making a personal choice? And I didn't do it to offend anyone, I seriously don't know how the internet works. Oh, oh wow—" You looked troubled and Kenma could see why. "—losing out on viewers now, great. 'Don't be a whiny bitch', 'This is why girls shouldn't game'..."

You took a deep breath before calming down and saying the few words Kenma feared you might eventually come around to say.

"This is (y/n), signing off to a world where gaming is appreciated and is not filled with a community of hate. Hope to see you there."

And the stream ended.

Kenma sighed before leaning back, no thought in his head. He knew for a fact that his room-mate must have seen the stream as well, and Kuroo would be calling him about the entire ordeal just to ensure he had something to say about it. Kenma, on the other hand, felt like he had practically pushed you to make this decision and partly felt like taking the blame, despite the common sense telling him that he had nothing to do with it. You weren't the sort of person who would jump at something without a second thought, and even if he didn't know you personally, he had been following you and your streams for months now. It felt like he knew that part of you quite well.

Kuroo was the first to call. Kenma stared at the phone for a bit before letting out a breath and getting back to editing his video. He only had to add commentary, and his mind was already circling on what to say.

Uploading the video took him exactly two more hours, after having missed three calls from Kuroo and twelve messages. At one point, Kuroo had even stopped contacting Kenma, thinking he was busy with something, and he was spot on. Kuroo's eyes wandered on the new notification about his friend's YouTube channel, which was weird considering it was not yet time for him to post something. He knew quite well that Kenma might have definitely seen (y/n)'s stream, and wanted to desperately talk to him about it, but without a clue of what the boy was thinking, Kuroo simply clicked on the notification and let the video play out.

It was the review for the game, The Last of Us 2, and Kuroo knew while giving the review, which was around 8-9 minutes, Kenma would speak his thoughts that were a tad bit uncensored toward the end. He'd talk about the drama surrounding the game, he would even bring up the entire hate that this game was receiving, but instead—Kenma had a rather strange dialogue instead.

"One thing I don't understand is how toxic the gaming community can be, at times," Kuroo paused, narrowing his eyes at his friend's words, "While we welcome new gamers to the entire journey of learning and discovering the joy of gaming, we also tend to put them down if they didn't adhere to a certain trend. I came across one such incident happening to (s/n) (y/n)'s Twitch channel."

"Holy shit!" Kuroo sat up straight, eyes wide as saucers at the bold move his friend made.

"I'm part of this community and I think I have the right to call out how toxic we are in general,"

Kenma's voice didn't even waver, but after knowing him his entire life, Kuroo could deduce that the boy was a bit angry,

"(y/n) didn't particularly do anything wrong, and she's received some nasty comments about being a female gamer, and I think that's...just disgusting. She has all the right to either attend or ditch a gaming event, and no one has to be forced to do something they don't want to do. We all have games we don't like despite being gamers, we don't have to do it all. I support (y/n), and I'll admit, I'm saddened by how her fans have treated her. Her content is great and I have immense respect for her. I hope she decides to come back and stream more. That being said, I think The Last of Us 2 is..."

As he got around to talk more about the game, Kuroo knew that this was a huge step for Kenma, and he had no idea what suddenly made the boy rethink his entire decision on never bringing her up. Now that he had, he's indirectly initiated a conversation with her, she'd definitely try and reach out now—in any way she possibly could, just to thank him at least.

Kuroo noticed his phone ringing a second later and a grin made its way to his lips.

"What just happened?"

"I met her, Kuroo," Kuroo almost had the wind knocked out of him, "She was at my college campus. I was walking back to my room since classes were canceled. There was some sort of gaming event. She didn't want to be a part of it, and neither did I, and we ditched. It was—"

"You like her more now, don't you?"

When Kuroo received nothing more than silence from Kenma's end, he was certain. His precious, introverted, best boy had fallen for someone. It was a proud moment, almost.

"You have to tell her—"

"Kuroo, this... this is all I want to do."

"That's bullshit, and even you know that."

"What? You want me to open up to her and tell her I'm the YouTuber she's been gushing about for so long and I was the one who kind of pushed her into doing what she did, and so that she can hate me afterward for hiding the truth because I wouldn't be losing out on anything and she—"

"Whoa there, Kenma. I'm just saying go talk to her as her favorite YouTuber. You're overthinking this."

"No, you're underthinking this. I did what I had to do. It was... hard to see her like that."

Kuroo let out a sigh but before he could say anything, Kenma had already ended the call. That boy needs to grow a pair, he thought, a bit annoyed at Kenma's nature of avoiding his feelings. While Kenma believed it was for the best, he knew he was simply running away from it. Kuroo knew his friend adored (y/n), but the boy couldn't categorize that as real feelings because he's met her just once. Finding something real virtually scared him more than finding something real in real life, and while Kuroo wanted to understand that, it only annoyed him because Kenma wasn't even trying.

When you watched puddinghead0's recent video, you were jaw-dropped in awe and absolute admiration. Tears filled your eyes, but what was more was how his voice now seemed a tad bit familiar, though you didn't pay any heed to it since you've been following this channel for an entire year now. It moved you to know someone you've been admiring has been watching your content, but at the same time, he was speaking up for you? You wanted to thank him, you wanted to send him a message and say you were incredibly grateful for what he's done and the only way you knew you could say something was on Twitter.

So you mentioned him on a tweet and poured your heart out within character limit. You wondered if he would notice your tweet since you've mentioned him countless times before, but even if he didn't, even if he paid you no heed after all of this, you were still grateful. However, a second later, you received a new follower. You blinked upon noticing that it was Kozume-kun from the other day. A soft smile fell on your lips at the soft recollection of running away from a gaming event, after which everything spiraled, but you didn't in any way blame him. Your mind again drifted back to puddinghead0 and you sighed.

I'd kill to see him, man, you thought, eyeing your tweet of him dreamily.

A second later, there was a notification. You almost spat out your heart at the mere words: puddinghead0 likes your tweet.

puddinghead0 likes your tweet.

"Oh my god—" You choked on air. However, a second later, you found it difficult to remain sitting on your bed.

Don't thank me, I hope you're feeling better. You didn't deserve any of that.

Is that a—

...deserve any of that. <3

Fuck me.

Kenma almost dozed off in class right before it ended. It wasn't like it was school where the teacher would wake him up after noticing him asleep, no one really bothered. Kenma was pushed awake by the momentum of the class once it was over and he leaned back before gathering his things. Tightening his hair tie, he casually walked out of class and got to the campus. He spotted the event area, where the gaming event had occurred and instantly spotted his room-mate and a bunch of people gathered there. Rolling his eyes, he walked away from there, not wanting to gather any attention.

"Kenma!"

He had failed. Kenma froze to his spot before turning to spot his room-mate dashing over to him, a wide grin plastered on his features. Wrapping a hand over Kenma's shoulders, his roommate brought him to the others he was talking to, before releasing him.

"You're that guy (y/n) ran away with during that event, right?" One of them asked, and Kenma didn't bother to respond.

"Why did she run though? I mean, it doesn't make sense for her to just up and leave."

"I've been telling you," The same guy said, "She's not the one playing those games. She's just the face."

Kenma frowned. What is this dick talking about?

"Man, I think that's harsh," His roommate said, "I just think she's too chicken to play in front of people—"

"She's literally a streamer." Kenma said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but why did she—"

"If you can't understand that she doesn't owe you shit, then there's no helping it. She didn't want to play at that event, and she didn't. I don't see why you aren't calling me a fake gamer for running too." Kenma snapped.

The others shrugged, "That's because we've seen you play—"

"It's bullshit." Kenma said before walking away. You all are bullshit, he thought before the frown on his face settled into an uncharacteristic glare, directed at what who knows what.

A moment later, he felt his phone buzz with a notification. Kenma opened his phone and saw that he had a message from you, but what confused him was—

The message was directed to Kenma and not puddinghead. His heart jumped as his fingers roamed over the notification, wanting to open it only when he was in the comfortable confines of his room. Swallowing the bubbling anxiety, Kenma fought the urge to smile as he continued walking back, unaware of what the Twitter message could be. It would normally take him around 12 minutes to get to his apartment from campus, but that day, Kenma merely took 7.

On reaching his room, he finally allowed himself to open your message.

(y/n): Hey! I've taken a break from streaming for now, just wanted to let you know. I don't know why I'm sending you this message, but talking to you that day made me realize that I don't really need to seek approval constantly. Also, puddinghead liked my tweet and I'm a bit too happy so I needed to gush, don't @ me

Kenma chuckled, feeling his heart jump at every word you'd said. He knew you didn't realize that you were gushing about him to him, but that didn't matter. He wanted to gush about you too. He felt a stone stuck at his throat at how real all of this felt, despite having only seen you once.

Kenma Kozume: I think he's the sort of guy who isn't too loud about the things he likes. And I think a break is a good idea, (s/n).

(y/n): Call me (y/n), came the immediate response. Kenma's eyes widened at the fact that you were online, and that the two of you were currently exchanging messages live.

(y/n): Yeah, I got the feeling from his videos that he's perhaps a private person. I'm still really glad that he supported me, I can't thank him enough. I'm feeling much better already!

Kenma smiled, I'm glad that you are.

(y/n): Also

He blinked.

(y/n): Do you want to co-op at Bloodborne? I'm trying to get a platinum, haha.

"Fuck," He let out a breath before chuckling uncharacteristically. "You can't be serious."

(y/n): I'll send you my PSN, and you can add me as a party member. Only if you're up to it, I mean.

Kenma Kozume: Sure, sounds like fun. Also

Kenma gulped. He felt like this was showing off, but he didn't care. He was going to say it.

Kenma Kozume: I already have platinum in Bloodborne. :)

(y/n): Ah, screw you.

Kenma chuckled. He wouldn't admit it, but his heart was hammering against his chest and his palms were sweating. Soon, he'd be connected to you via the DualShock and the two of you would be co-oping in a game that was designed to make players fail. He wasn't too sure how much more his heart was going to take, and while he knew he had to tell someone, for some reason, Kenma wanted to keep this a secret. It wasn't because he was ashamed or he didn't want anyone to find out.

It was simply because it was too good to be true, and he didn't want to lose out on a chance to get to know you more. Because, if this kept up...

If this kept up, Kenma was surely going to fall in love with you.

395 notes · View notes

gloves94 · 4 years

Text

A Slytherin [Harry x Slytherin!Reader]

Anonymous Requested:

hi idk if you do these but could u write abt Harry x slytherin oc :) it can be any topic u want angst fluff smut or whatever... I haven’t been able to find anything with Harry and a slytherin girl it’s crazy 💔💔

Rating: PG Warnings: Fluff! Words: 2490 Pairing: Harry x Slytherin!Reader A/N: Hope you like it! Proud of my House! I’ve never really read Harry fanfic so I hope I captured his character right!

Some say being a Slytherin is a curse, but others, truly wise individuals, would differ.

Some sneer and look down at Slytherins for being the House associated with antiquated prejudice and outgrown wizarding ideologies from another time. The House of the Evil, The House of You-Know-Who, The Heirs of Salazar Slytherin.

Ambition. Cunning. Leadership. Resourcefulness.

Are the traits that one’s branded with a crest bearing an emerald snake above their hearts cherish. Traits that can allow one to go far and succeed in whatever it is the witch or wizard’s most deep desires is, regardless of the darkness or the apparent impossibility of the goal.

Nothing is impossible for a Slytherin.

Not even such a feat such as making Harry Potter fall in love.

xxx

“I want him,” The Slytherin confidently claimed her objective from across the Great Hall. She ate her food mindlessly a determined glint in her eyes.

“Who?” Millicent Bullstrode asked squinting her eyes to try and see who her chamber mate could possibly be referring to. The other Slytherin girls attempted to catch a glimpse of whomever she could’ve been referring to.

“Potter?” Pansy Parkinson gagged and turned her head back quickly to grimace in horror to her friend.

“Yes,” She admitted with an overconfident smirk stretching on her lips.

Pansy gaped in horror bringing a hand to her mouth. “Salazar’s beard,” She gasped shaking her head. “But why?” “He’s so arrogant and thinks he’s untouchable,” She scoffed bitterly at Dumbledore’s favorite. “Saint Potter… He’s not even fully one of our kind,” She spat referring to his lack of blood status.

The infatuated Slytherin ignored her and continued to gaze from a far. She was currently fixating on Harry’s permanently messy hair.

“I don’t care.”

She really didn’t. None of that mattered to her. Didn’t know what it was she liked about Harry so much. Her not so secret crush had always been a part of her, kind of like an itch on your nose. It’s right in your face, comes and goes, but you can’t quite put your finger in it. Maybe it was his loyalty to his friends, his bravery, maybe it was how unwaveringly kind he seemed to be to everyone, even to her despite the fact they were both in rivaling Houses. Or maybe it was something else. He was also easy on the eyes.

“Oh, you know how she is,” Daphne Greengrass sighed with an amused smile as she drank her cup of tea. “Loves chasing waterfalls, maybe just as much as Potter loves breaking the rules.”

“It’s never going to happen,” Daphne added lightly nudging her friend. “You know, that right?”

All Slytherin girls arched their eyebrows in agreement.

“That’s okay,” She smiled confidently. “I like the chase.”

Stunned Millicent shook her head in disbelief, “This I gotta see.”

“Ugh!” Pansy exclaimed frustrated. “You’re going to give the House a bad name!” She protested. “Not to mention we’ll probably lose points!”

From across the Great Hall, Ron Weasley elbowed his distraught best friend. Harry was as per usual deep in thought, stressed and distracted by the fact that there was a psychopath plotting to hunt him down (and no not the Slytherin girl).

“She’s starring at you again mate,” Ron spoke in a low voice leaning over.

“Who?” Harry asked not quite paying attention to his surroundings.

“Do you ever pay attention?” Hermione asked looking over her shoulder over to the Slytherin table.

“That Slytherin girl.” Ron also starred. “What did you do to her, she seems- angry?”

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically and shook her head. “Honestly, the both of you,” Sometimes she struggled to believe that the three of them had somehow managed to outsmart the Dark Lord for more than a handful of years now. Both completely oblivious. Hermione closed her book shut and shaking her head and packed up her stuff. She would let the two of them figure this one out.

“Now what?” Ron asked raising his hands. “What’d I say?”

Harry shrugged just as confused. He turned away from Ron and raised his gaze to meet the Slytherin girl’s. He was surprised however to find that she did not look away. Instead, she kept her gaze steady and a slow smile stretched across her features. There was a mischievous look in her eyes a confident allure that entrapped him and wouldn’t allow him to tear his eyes away.

It was then that he learned she would be nothing but trouble.

Xxx

Trouble always seemed to have a way of finding him.

Trouble had an alluring look.

Trouble was approaching. Harry wasn’t sure if she bumped into him or if he was the one to not mind his step.

Trouble had found him.

“Oh,” She said accidentally dropping the books she had been carrying. “Merlin,” She muttered innocently under her breath kneeling and picking up her scattered notes and texts.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized bending down and being the gentleman, he was helping her pick up her books. Snitches and Witches: Women in Quidditch, Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, and It’s a Muggle’s World.

Wow, all of these books- they were all topics he was interested in. “You’re-“ He began to acknowledge her name.

“Thanks Harry,” She thanked and took her book from his hand. “You know my name?” The Gryffindork seemed a little startled by this.

“Well, of course I do,” She tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, it’s in our History of Magic book,” She smiled at him sweetly and stood up.

Ah, yes of course.

Harry was about to ask her another question, but she left him standing with the word on the tip of his tongue.

“I have to go,” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Nice running into you Harry,” she smiled at him before walking away. There it was again that teasing smile that seemed to scream danger, those crazy eyes that seemed to peer into his soul and the trailing scent of sweet perfume he had smelled somewhere before as she walked away from him and turned back to flash him a smile he wouldn’t forget. To his surprise Harry found she had forgotten a parchment behind. He called for her, but she had already vanished around the corridor.

Curious he picked up the note and unfolded it.

‘Meet me in the Forbidden Books Section at Midnight.’

Xxx

Of course, it had been planned.

Everything leading up to this event had been planned. It had been weeks of flirting from a distance. From little innocent looks to even smiling at each other from across the classroom.

Only a Slytherin would be resourceful enough to ask around what Harry Potter’s interest where, what his timetables looked like, where he spent most of his time, who his closest friends are, did he have any love interest?

Ginny Weasley who?

“Oi, Blaise,” Our protagonist said to her friend during History of Magic. “Didn’t you say you found girl Weasley to be attractive?”

Blaise simply shot her a glare. Why on Earth would he ever go for a blood traitor such as Weasley? “I bet you even a handsome bloke like yourself wouldn’t be able to woo her,” She gave Zabini a sly look. He ignored her. “I guess even she’s out of your reach Zabini,” she let out a sigh slightly dropping her shoulders.

Determined. Unaware of the manipulation. That made Blaise Zabini take Ginny Weasley out of the picture. At least temporarily which was part of the Slytherin’s ambitious plan.

That meant she wouldn’t be a distraction anymore.

It was midnight and the Slytherin girl patiently awaited hidden in the Forbidden Books section. She was careful not to be seen when leaving the Slytherin dormitory. It would be unfortunate if a prefect on duty or even worse if Snape himself caught her sneaking out.

Even worse, caught her sneaking out to see Harry Potter.

Hearing footsteps, she turned around yet saw no one. Just dusty books and moonlight creeping through the large windows. She was alone in the library, or so it seemed.

Eyes wide, she held her wand ready to light the room or attack if necessary.

There was no one there.

Paranoid she once again lowered her guard. It seemed like Harry was late, but he was definitely showing. She had no doubt about it. Everything had been calculated and carefully planned. He was at least that much of a man to reject her to her face and not stand her up.

Another wooden creak.

Turning once again this time with her wand lifted, she knew there was definitely somebody watching her.

“Who goes there?” She barked her tone demanding.

She wasn’t expecting a small yell to be caught in the back of her throat when a hand was placed on her mouth suddenly silencing her. Harry magically appeared before her eyes unraveling from an invisible cloak.

“Shhh….” He whispered holding her close. “Snape is here.”

Both turned to look towards the entrance of the Forbidden section where they could see light creep through the opening door.

Without any hesitation Harry pulled the invisible cloak over both of them hiding them from any prying eyes. The two pressed their bodies against the wall of books. Shoulders rubbing together from the closeness. She could smell the scent of his shampoo. What was that delicious scent sandalwood? The Slytherin’s breath hitched as her heart began to race. This had not been part of the plan.

She didn’t even want to think about what Snape would do to her. The two might even be expelled having been found in such an inappropriate setting.

“I know Potter is grandiosely skulking around Professor.” “You best be right Malfoy,” Snape sneered back at his student as the two carefully looked around the room. The Professor seemed more irritated than ever, the circles under his eyes darker from lack of sleep.

The Slytherin cursed under her breath. Leave it to Draco to want to bust Potter in the act of sneaking out. No doubt the selfish prick didn’t mind her being part of the collateral as long as Potter suffered.

“I thought I heard something,” Draco said passing right in front of them. Nervous, the girl clung to Harry’s arm tightly squeezing it as the two held their breaths. One wrong move, a sneeze a loud breath and both would be in serious trouble.

“I heard he was meeting a girl here,” Malfoy continued. His head rapidly turning around as he scanned the room for any clue that Harry might be here.

Harry turned his head and then whispered, “I don’t think they’re leaving any time soon,” not that she minded being like this all night. When Snape and Malfoy were a safe distance away. His closeness and hot breath on her ear made the girl’s skin curl with goosebumps. Her grip on his arm relaxed slightly. Using her cunning the Slytherin quickly devised a plan.

“Not on my watch,” she muttered sticking her wand to poke out of the cloak. She pointed at the entrance of the library from a far and with some quick spell work made the door open and-

SLAM!

The slam shattered the loud silence in the room and instantly Malfoy and Snape turned towards it. “They’re leaving!” Draco exclaimed as the two fell for the red herring and rushed out of the room with their wands out.

Neither Harry nor the Slytherin moved an inch. Both remained still petrified in their closeness waiting to be sure the Slytherins were gone. An eternal minute passed before Harry let out a loud breath of relief. Laughing, the girl removed the cloak, the Gryffindor couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact they had almost gotten caught. He watched her in the dim moonlight appreciating how proud she looked at her accomplishment.

Realizing this she looked at him too, this time shyly, tugging a lose strand of hair behind her ear. Both had almost forgotten why they were here.

“So, you came?” She approached him boldly.

He couldn’t remove her eyes from hers and suddenly Harry felt cornered by her presence.

“We’d be good together, don’t you think?” She said playing with the insides of her sleeves. Harry swallowed hard, suddenly losing his voice. “See, that’s why I came,” He managed to say, his voice dropping to a lower tone.

There was so much on Harry’s plate always. Everyone around him was constantly in danger. He was a Gryffindor, and she was a Slytherin, both were supposed to be natural enemies. His friends would hate her and hers already hated him. Any information any activity – with so many Slytherins involved in You-Know-Who’s doing it was especially dangerous for her. But why did he want to go against the logical choice? Why did he want to say yes to her so badly?

“What if..” He began but couldn’t bring himself to spiel his miserable thoughts to her. “I’ll break your heart,” he shook his head regretfully.

Not to mention those moment when You-Know-Who... Those dark flashes he couldn’t control. He could hurt her.

He was expecting her to falter, to step down and walk away but instead she laughed a little, almost with arrogance. “Nobody breaks my heart,” She paused. “But maybe I’ll break yours,” She smiled coyly reaching for the edge of his crimson robes.

“I’m sorry,” He sincerely apologized to her.

Nodding bitterly, she finally stepped away with her head lowered with the embarrassment from his rejection, her eyes avoiding his perturbing green ones. Accepting they were star crossed lovers.

Feeling guilty Harry tried to make his rejection less painful.

“It would never work out,” he began to explain. “We’re too different, our Houses are enemies, and then there’s Voldem-“

“So, you don’t deny it?” She interrupted him. This time glaring at him with a terrifying fearlessness. They weren’t the eyes of somebody that had accepted rejection. He looked struck by her determination.

“You don’t deny you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you?” If he accepted, she would step down, she would leave him alone. However- if he didn’t deny his feelings…

Harry was quiet for a moment before speaking. “I don’t,” He admitted truthfully.

The Slytherin couldn’t help but smile at his confession. “Then?” She took his warm hands in hers. They were larger, square, welcoming and well fitting against hers like a complete puzzle. “So what? Who cares what the others think? I don’t,” Her smile grew, and she leaned in closer to him. So close her voice also dropped. “Besides, like I said, we’d be good together. Together there’s nothing we can’t handle. Even You-K-“ She reassured him with boldness. “Even Voldemort,” speaking the taboo name tasted odd to her.

Her hand was greeted by the cold absence of his.

Maybe this had all been one foul idea…

Maybe he was right.

Feeling his hand caress her face she stood struck by the gentle gesture. He spoke her name so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “Can I kiss you?” He asked tenderly. His fingers tracing her cheek before advancing to bury into the hair on the nape of her neck.

She responded by leaning forward, brushing her nose against his and pressing her lips against his. She didn't mind his glasses, she didn’t mind this one bit. The Slytherin held him close her arms gently slithering up and clinging around his neck greedily holding him. He held her head in place tilting it to the side as their lips touched in a sweet kiss in the empty darkness. His lips were so soft, welcoming, they moved against hers perfectly, even gently nabbed at hers. It was everything she had dreamt about.

She smiled into the kiss, after all, a Slytherin always gets what they want.

xxx

Hope you liked it!

Harry Potter Masterlist

My Masterlist

76 notes · View notes

yukipri · 4 years

Text

Marco’s Bauble Part 5 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Here’s the next part of Marco’s Bauble!

In which the Whitebeards gossip even more, and the gossip circle widens.

Contains mention of Marco x Luffy.

Continues off of, and should be read after:

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 1

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 2

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 3

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 4

"Does the meeting have to be in my room?"

Jozu's room feels cramped with six commanders crammed inside. The Commander bedrooms, which double as their offices, aren't exactly spacious. They're still the only crew members who even have their own private quarters, so no one complains. Of the Commander's rooms, Jozu's is the largest, simply to accommodate the fact that Jozu's physical bulk is several times that of any other Commander. So naturally, Jozu's room is where they gather when they need to have the rare Secret Meeting, away from any of Pops's rooms or public spaces that anyone can walk into.

"I don't even know why we're here," Jozu mutters mostly to himself, perched awkwardly on the edge of his own bed. Vista and Rakuyo take up the rest of his mattress, because Izo's commandeered Jozu's desk and chair. Izo's even brought a mirror and makeup kit, and is putting eyeliner on Namur for some reason. Haruta's sitting on the floor by the door, to "keep watch," apparently.

"You can leave if you'd like, it's private anyway," Rakuyo smirks. He's only been let in on the secret because he'd been the one to make up the lie at lunch, announcing loudly that Haruta had actually shouted about marigolds in Izo's new perfume and not Marco. And oh yeah, Vista's allergic to them! Hence the overreaction, of course.

It's a miracle their other brothers bought the honestly bizarre lie, and Rakuyo secretly thinks that they most definitely heard but are bro enough to play along because the other Commanders looked so pathetically desperate for them to pretend it never happened. But well, it worked out for Rakuyo, who was able to corner Izo and Haruta (along with a still very much spooked Vista), to demand answers for so generously providing a coverup, no matter how shoddy.

(Rakuyo can just imagine how the rumor mill is churning right now, now that everyone other than the night shift is crammed into the barracks and lights are out. But ah well, that's not his business, at least until he gets some answers himself.)

Which leads them to now, in a Secret Meeting to reveal all.

Jozu heaves a massive sigh that jostles the other two Commanders taking up his bed, before getting up with a creak. It's very clear that Rakuyo is especially eager to start getting all the dirt or whatever this is about, and perhaps that really isn't something he wants to be a part of.

Jozu doesn't much like being chased out of his own room, but he doesn't really like gossip anyway. Maybe it would be better to step out, and not have to deal with the drama afterwards.

"Maybe I'll go take a walk..." Some fresh night air doesn't sound too bad.

"Yeah, we'll just be talking about Marco's upcoming wedding," Haruta chortles, even as he moves out of the way to let Jozu through.

Jozu freezes. Rakuyo makes a little oooh sound.

Jozu sits back down, and Vista and Rakuyo grunt as the mattress sinks towards their brother's greater mass.

"Wait, since when was it a wedding?" Namur's eyes widen. "I only know about his proposal, not even a formal engagement yet..."

There must be several steps between "proposal" and "wedding," or so Namur thought. But perhaps he's just misunderstanding humans once again.

"Hush, don't move, you'll ruin your eyeliner," Izo scolds, and Namur shuts up, wisely, because everyone knows how Izo feels about ruined eyeliner.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jozu starts, because he's just heard several things in rapid succession that he's failing to process. Jozu prides himself on fast thinking in battle, but it apparently doesn't apply outside of it, which is a problem because he's reeling. But then again, these types of cannonballs aren't shot into his face every day.

Jozu isn't given time, because Rakuyo's hooting like a madman, flailing arms smacking Vista, who has also gone frozen and wide-eyed, and Jozu's glad that at least he's not the only brother who feels lost.

"Alright, let's hear it! Who's the lucky boy?" Rakuyo leans as far forward towards Izo and Namur as he can without his ass leaving the bed.

"Get this," Izo leans in too, just as eager. "Marco's fiancee is a girl."

Jozu chokes, but it goes completely ignored, as does Vista's gasp and dainty hand to his heart, and Rakuyo expelling what seems to be all of the spit in his mouth, all in the face of Haruta bolting to his feet and shrieking "WHAT?!" loud enough to probably be heard on the other side of the Moby.

"Izo..." Namur cringes, and looks distinctively miserable, an expression all the more exaggerated by the dramatic winged liner Izo's put around his eyes.

"It's too late, we're all here, might as well share with just our fellow Commanders no? It's a big occasion for our dearest first mate," Izo says, well over the initial guilt he felt. After all, such a big occasion for their brother is most certainly relevant to their fellow Commanders!

Everyone else in the room makes silent eye contact at Izo and Namur's exchange, immediately understanding what had occurred: Izo had been sworn to secrecy, but had slipped.

Well, they all sympathize. They feel for their poor fishman brother, they've all been in his shoes before.

But they're also all currently in this room, and the secret's been spilled, so at this point...well, what happens in Jozu's room, stays in Jozu's room, no?

And so the story comes out, and multiple other bombs are dropped: that the girl's a mermaid, Marco's never even met her, and she's also Ace's little brother.

"Wow, didn't know he liked them that young, Ace's practically a baby himself," Rakuyo mutters, and gets a sharp jab in the elbows from Vista.

“A mermaid,” Vista breathes, stars in his eyes. “A phoenix with a mermaid, that’s so romantic!”

“Isn’t it?” Namur looks eager for the first time since the meeting started, glad he’s found a kindred soul. “They’ll look so good together…”

Jozu's brain has finally caught up to the situation, but something's not adding up. He makes to raise his hand, but ends up loudly cracking his shoulder against the wall instead, which still does the job of catching his brothers' attentions.

"Wait, but I thought Ace said he couldn't join our crew because he promised to be pirates with his little brother...but if she gets married to Marco and she joins our crew, then...?"

There's a moment of deep contemplative silence.

"Well, there's the chance that Ace doesn't know about his little brother's relationship with Marco," Izo says slowly. "He might not even know that they've been corresponding."

There's a collective wince as they imagine how Ace's reaction to that being revealed might go, if it indeed is a secret. The one thing they know about Ace's little brother is that Ace has a MASSIVE brother complex, and is very, Very protective. They suddenly don’t envy Thatch.

"Do you think Thatch knows?" Vista speaks up. "Is this why he went with Ace?"

"If he didn't know, he knows now, Marco sent the letter and engagement gem to him to deliver," Namur says hesitantly, finally willing to contribute information.

"So let's get this straight, Ace thought he was just going back to East Blue to start a new pirate crew, and Thatch was just tagging along to help, but Thatch was actually sent by Marco to escort his bride back to us? Without Ace knowing? Is that right?" Haruta's eyes are wide and he sounds extremely impressed. "That's so evil of him, I didn't know he had it in him, holy shit!"

"We don't know that," Namur mumbles, but is ignored.

“Do you think Thatch’ll be best man at the wedding?” Vista wonders.

“That’s not fair!” Haruta hisses at the same time Izo shouts, “Favoritism!”

"Okay, okay, wait. So in that case, assuming Ace eventually calms down and supports the union, that means his little brother joins us, right? And if she joins, doesn't that mean Ace would join too? Since she was the only reason why he didn't join us, and he wants to be on the same crew as his brother..." Jozu can't let go of the possibility, now that it's there.

They'd all been terribly sad when Ace announced he was leaving. Their crew all understood why he had to go, a promise is a promise, and they'd still always be brothers but...the 2nd Division Commander seat had practically been waiting for him.

"There's always the chance that they mean to do long distance," Namur says then, glumly.

"That's so boring!" Izo says dismissively. "Marco should take what's his, we're pirates!"

Rakuyo cheers while Namur gasps in indignation, and everyone else sighs, except Vista who suddenly freezes.

"Marco wouldn't...leave us to join them, would he...?"

Well there's a thought.

"...We can't know what the bride thinks, but that we can ask Marco, probably," Jozu says uncertainly. Suddenly this whole "marriage" business is a lot more stressful than expected, because Jozu's not sure he likes the idea of suddenly losing their first mate, no matter how nice his future company is.

"It's not likely, probably, because they're just a baby crew, who already have our brothers as senior members," Haruta reasons. "Far more likely that they'll join us!"

"The 2nd'll be happy to have Ace and Deuce back," Vista nods, focusing on the positives, and the mood lightens considerably. "And we'll be able to have a wedding!"

“A wedding! I love weddings!” Rakuyo cheers. “Drinks all around!”

"Ace'll become our 2nd Division Commander after all," Namur says, and he looks so happy that Izo croons and pokes his cheek.

"Wait," Jozu says, and Izo groans not again. "This may be getting ahead of ourselves but...if Ace is 2nd Division Commander, that puts his room right next to Marco's...isn't that sorta awkward for the newlyweds?"

"Jozu!" Namur looks very scandalized, while Rakuyo and Haruta cackle.

"Maybe Ace'll burn a hole through the wall so they can't have any privacy," Haruta grins.

"That's terrible," Vista says, despite also beginning to smile.

This is nice, imagining what their family's future might be like. It'll no doubt be wild, but a positive change.

"But maybe being close to his brother would make Ace happier too, so maybe the 2nd Division would really be perfect," Izo says contemplatively.

"Question, would Ace's little brother be in the 1st or 2nd Division?" Namur wonders.

Bickering breaks out, but Rakuyo cuts through it. "She's Ace's brother, she might be Commander material herself, who says she'll be in one of their divisions?"

"Commander of Division 1.5," Namur says dreamily.

And oh, well, that wasn't what anyone else had in mind, but the more they think about it, the more it appeals.

"Perfectly in between her husband and brother, our future Commander of Division 1.5," Izo says it out loud, testing how it feels.

"I like it," Haruta shouts, and is echoed by his brothers.

WHELP that took forever to write, but I hope you enjoyed! The next part has Marco :P

The number of Whitebeards keeps increasing! We now have all the main Whitebeards that are usually given attention (Marco, Thatch, Jozu, Vista, Izo, Haruta), and in addition to Namur, I decided I wanted to give Rakuyo some love! I think he looks like a Jack Sparrow rip off so I like him haha. Did anyone catch the reference?

Anyway, still very much figuring out how I want to portray them, but I'm enjoying exploring them in writing, so I'll know how to better depict them in any future art ^ ^;

As always, thank you so much for reading, and any comments are immensely appreciated!! (Comments are what make me decide how frequently to update, because the next parts are already written and up on Patreon <3)

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 6

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

#OnePieceMermaidAU #One Piece Mermaid AU #MarLu #Marco the Phoenix #Whitebeard Pirates #genderbend #text headcanons #longpost #long post

109 notes · View notes

imemeyoumemeweallmeme · 3 years

Text

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

#long post #ask meme #quotes #twisted: the untold story of a royal vizier #jafar #aladdin #the princess #jasmine #sheherazade #sultan #roleplay #roleplay asks #roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #starters #roleplay starters

17 notes · View notes

lizworlds · 3 years

Text

❤️ - “ My Love, is actually my Twin Flame “ - ❤️

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐

“ My Love,is actually my Twin Flame “

---written by: 🦂 Zayn Whyaeipi 🦂

8/27/2021

A Twin Flame, (Yin & Yang) often known as a "mirroring soul," is an intense embodiment of connection which is believed to be a person’s other half.

It’s based on the belief that one soul can split into two bodies. A twin flame connection will be both challenging and healing, which has been one of the significant aspects. The love story with twin flames created in the stars (literally). From their previous life experiences to their early physical meeting, and indeed throughout the turbulent stages of their relationship, everything about them was destined on a soul level.

When twin flames meet, either or both of them may be in a relationship with someone else. We refer to this person as a karmic partner. Usually, the Divine Feminine is single, while the Wounded Masculine is in a relationship with another (karmic partner). It can, however, happen in any circumstance. A teacher is the karmic mate of the Wounded Masculine. His/her job is to help the Wounded Masculine prepare for the Divine Feminine.

There will be a significant difference. If you represent the lighter side of the TF (Twin Flame) or the yin and yang dynamic, your light will shine on your twin flame’s lower shadow aspects that are living in that darker, denser energy, as well as the things that your twin flame does not want to face and the things that your twin flame is repressing. The Universe uses the karmic for the highest good of the TF (Twin Flame) Union.

( Image source: https://theworkingsinglemom.com/experiencing-tower-moments/ )

The Wounded Masculine may take a long time to settle this karma and part ways with the karmic partner because of soul/karmic contracts (lessons to learn). This is because karmic energy is heavy, and that he or she is still dealing with it. It’s a powerful sign that he/she further needs healing. Therefore, it shows that he or she is in his or her wounded masculine.

As a result, there’s a good chance things will turn messy. Many wounded masculines will have to go through "tower moment after tower moment" (a period when everything seems to crumble apart) before they fully discover what is best for their highest good.

As twin flames, the energies that come from third parties have a direct impact on their connection. For that matter, all relationships are affected to a degree by third-party or outside energies.

( http://www.thelesbianmafia.com/home/wp-content/uploads/feminine2.jpg )

Many times, the DM doesn’t value the relationship the way DF does. The divine masculine has repeatedly overstepped divine feminine boundaries. Breadcrumbing could also have endured by the Divine Feminine out of desperation energy to unite with her wounded divine masculine. She may have allowed deception, lies, and deceptive behaviors. Perhaps she put up with his/her back-and-forth with his/her karmic partner, anticipating s/he’d change his/her mind and choose her/him.

However, once the Divine Feminine has fully awakened, her intuition is so precise while she’s on the verge of healing. She understands she is worthy of becoming the only one in her divine counterpart’s realm.

The Divine Feminine will eventually realize that she is worthy of someone who recognizes both her greatness and her worth.

She desires to be with someone who treats her with love, respect, honesty, truth, and tenderness on an equal level.

She won't put up with anything less.

She isn't accessible for such nonsense.

It's a matter of all or nothing.

( Image source link: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/855050679224598923/ )

We perceive the spiritual dimension as the need for: life's meaning, purpose, and fulfillment;

We know it in the spiritual realm as the ascent of one’s consciousness.

How many Spiritual Dimensions are there?

-3rd Dimension: "The Realm of Pleasure"

The 3rd dimension, We see physical things in our reality that take up space in the 3d or third-dimensional mind. Besides 3d and 5d, several physical objects can appear in 4d and 5d. Since we believe what we see, we believe the 3d only exists because of cultural indoctrination. It’s really restricting and prevents your mind from expansion.

* Ascension of conciousness involves :

(Materialism, Victim mentality, and Control, Status, Ego association, Service to self, Fear-lower emotions, Linear thinking )

-4th Dimension: "The Realm of Time "

The 4th dimension connects the third and fifth dimensions. We know this dimension as spiritual awakening, and it begins through meditation to open the heart chakra. You can feel present in this realm by placing your hand over your heart. If you’re ever in 4d, you’ll notice that you’re quiet and still inside. You will feel happiness, love, and gratitude. As a result, in order to ascend from the 3rd to the 5th dimension, you must first go through or have at least experienced the 4th dimension.

* Ascension of conciousness involves :

(Understanding, Aligning with purpose, Synchronicity, Seeking answers, conscious being, more compassion, more connected, expanding consciousness )

( Image source link: https://www.pinterest.ph/pin/514465957427019990/ )

-5th Dimension: " The Realm of Unconditional Love "

The 5th dimension is the dimension of love. You are in the space of unconditional love. To be in the area of love and light, you must remove any mental or emotional blockages such as fear, rage, jealousy, hatred, guilt, suffering, and so on. It is a very pure sort of love in which there are no boundaries to love. Telepathy is known in this dimension. Time overlaps, giving the impression that everything is happening at the same time.

* Ascension of conciousness involves :

(Service to others, Purpose based, High Frequency, Abundance, Unconditional Sharing, effortless, Universal knowledge, aligning with the divine, authenticity )

As your soul sought answers, your ascension process began. Your Higher Self is well aware of this, and it is their responsibility to reveal it at the time when you are ready to have your Twin Flame experience and accomplish the ascension process. The Twin Flame experience is something that not everyone has chosen to have in this lifetime.

In this lifetime, not all twin flames are destined to meet. This all depends on your original soul contract and what you both agreed to learn and grow on a soul level.

Our emotional wounds are best provoked by our twin flame. This is because they are a part of us, and we are a part of them. Do not confuse this as being triggered, Twin flame triggers only lead you to a higher understanding of the connection.

They experience similar wound patterns, and that they are our mirrors, revealing us what we require to heal. Ultimately, twin flame connections assist each person to heal through any difficulty. You’ll probably have a lot of soul mates. Soul mates are about completing each other. This is in line with the idea that with every expansion, some level of tension is to be expected, but then there’s only just one twin flame.

NOT EVERYONE FINDS THEIR TWIN FLAME, BUT IF YOU DO, IT HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE A TOTALLY LIFE-CHANGING KIND OF LOVE.

( If you are reunited, your relationship has the potential to be once-in-a-lifetime. Nothing will ever be the same. )

( Image source link : https://dakotaearthcloud.com/product/marriage-sacred-masculine-divine-feminine/ )

The Divine Masculine counterpart is usually the one who awakens her (Kundalini activation). This can happen when two people communicate and are physically close to each other.

The Divine Feminine, triggers awakening in the DM, in a slightly different way and usually over a period of time. They intensify the divine masculine to connect to the Earth, nature, and the divine.

When your twin flames connect, they forge a connection that both grounds you to the Earth and to nature, as well as opens you up to higher beings and spiritual worlds.

( Image source: https://shop.cosm.org/products/oversoul-poster )

The divine masculine and divine feminine, are both represented in twin flames. Both masculine and feminine energy exist in everyone of us. These energies have a significant impact on how we present ourselves in the world and in our interactions. Work, social expectations, trauma, past relationships, and other factors can lead this energy to be misaligned with our inherent nature, resulting in unnecessary tension, distance, and isolation. In addition, there is still a Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine polarity in same-sex couples.

Masculine qualities: Logic, Reason, Action, Firm, Survival, Loyal, Adventurous, Rational, Strength ( Highlight: analytical, competitive, and logical. )

Feminine qualities: Intuition, Nurturing, Healing, Gentle, Expressive, Wise, ,Patient, Emotional, Flexible ( Highlight: connection, emotions and flow. )

After the honeymoon stage, "you or your partner will be the one discovering unlikable characteristics, which will trigger anxiety, potentially causing the relationship to fall apart. This resemblance to a mirror is partly responsible for many of the dramas you’ll possibly experience with your twin lover. "Anything we’ve spent our lives ignoring or rejecting is suddenly in front of us," As you get to know each other, you may discover that you share the same traits about your upbringing, including being abandoned, or that you attended many of the same places at the same time.

About two years ago, number synchronicity started appearing for me before I met my twin flame, but I do not know what they are or what they imply. Then, for a week or two, this woman caught my attention because of an interesting event. Our meeting provoked my Dark Night of the Soul, which started the beginning of my (true) awakening journey, although I was in my pre-awakening stage when we met. After meeting her, (my twin flame ) I felt shivers down my spine. It’s bizarre on a cellular level. It’s as though I’ve known her throughout my whole life.

I felt a tremendous connection with her. I’d never really had anybody else before, in ways that I still can’t entirely verbalize.

I instantly recognized her as my wife when I met her, because I could hear those voices inside my head insisting that she was my wife in a previous life and will continue to be in the future. To be honest, I felt an immediate sense of peace; it felt as if I was her home. When my twin flame enters my life, I experience an immediate sense of relief, without knowing why.

The best part about having this kind of connection is having a home with somebody who embraces you for who you are on the inside and allows you to be entirely yourself. Everything clicks, whether you’ve been wearing make-up or just haven’t showered in days, and you couldn’t imagine having it with anyone else in your life like you do with your twin flame.

With my twin flame, her strengths are my weaknesses. We both help each other maintain a sense of equilibrium in our lives. They’re the sweet to my spice, the black to my white, and the yang to my yin. We are mirrors of the same and reflect each other's light or darkness, and this is why, at times, it becomes so difficult. The connection seems to match into my life, and you know it is genuine. It is the most beautiful and magical experience, and by far the greatest gift I could ever receive.

If you’re like most individuals, you’ve spent a significant amount of time praying and hoping for a meaningful relationship to appear in your life. You may not realize immediately that the person is your twin flame, but as soon as you do, you’ll stop seeking unrelated friendships and romances.

You know it’s important when your twin flame emerges. Now that they’re in your life, you feel like the wait is over.

When she’s with me, she makes my world feel bigger. When my twin flame and I are together, life opens up in various ways.

Whatever it may be, this mutual encouragement inspires you to expand your horizons by challenging what you previously believed to be impossible. We may have doubted our ability to achieve our dreams in the past, but today you know you can achieve what you’ve set your mind to. Perhaps because the twin flame energy has pushed us to it.

Once you know your twin flame has your back, you can move forward with confidence and they’ll know they have your support with everything. You can strengthen yourself emotionally and spiritually. They’ll improve as a person in perfect sync with your personal growth. You balance each other. You also help them stay aware of the world. They change as you do. They are, in many ways, your other half.

Your twin flame is the male or female version of yourself.

- End

❤️

All the Love - L

#twinflame #journey #runner #chaser #soulmate #twinflamejourney #love #selfcare #love quotes

5 notes · View notes

fictionturnedherbrain · 3 years

Text

Marguerite

Full name: Marguerite Blakeney, née St Just

Nick-names: Margot; ‘little mother’

Age: 25 (‘scarcely five-and-twenty’, in September 1792)

Born: August 1767

Place of birth: France

Education: Convent school, Paris; travelled to England to study the language

Currently lives: Blakeney Manor, Richmond, England

Height: ‘Tall above the average’, perhaps 5’ 6”; slender, regal figure

Eye colour: A very fluid blue!

Hair colour: Strawberry blonde (‘reddish-golden’, ‘ardent’)

Facial features: ‘Classic brow’, ‘sweet, almost childlike mouth’ with ‘full lips’, ‘straight chiselled nose’, ‘round chin’ and a ‘delicate throat’

Marital status: Wife of Sir Percy Blakeney, Bt. They met at Versailles, during a banquet held for the Flanders regiment on October 3, 1789. Two years later, they were married at the Church of St Roch, Paris, ‘just like that’, ‘without a soirée de contrat or diner de fiançailles’

Family: Brother, Armand St Just (eight years her senior). Parents died when Marguerite was ‘but a child’

Occupation: A gentlewoman. Formerly an actress with the Comédie Française. Also a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, 1792-1795 (‘You are a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. The most adored. The most revered amongst all’)

Interests: Society hostess (balls, routs, suppers, etc.); music (operas, particularly Glück’s Orpheus); reading (contemporary novels, such as Fielding’s Tom Jones); setting the trend in fashion (‘She wore the short-waisted, classical-shaped gown, which so soon was to become the approved mode in every country in Europe’); the company of her friends, Suzanne Ffoulkes, Juliette Deroulede, Yvonne Dewhurst

Passions: Time alone with her husband (‘Moments like this, when she was alone with him, were the joy of her life’); the late night drives from London to their Richmond home (‘a source of perpetual delight to Marguerite’)

Character: Once an enthusiastic republican and feted actress, courted by men such as the Scarlet Pimpernel’s arch-enemy, Citizen Chauvelin (‘one of the many satellites that revolved around brilliant Marguerite St Just’ ), Marguerite gave all up for love. Yet despite exchanging the Paris stage for London and Bath society, she still holds true to the ideals of the Republic, even after personal experience has made her detest what people will do in the name of liberty. She does not judge by wealth or class, only by individual intelligence and creativity – and how these gifts are utilised. Marguerite is also very impulsive in her actions, and is often guided by instinct, whether wisely or foolishly. She has a passionate and loving nature, dedicating herself wholly to those she cares for – her brother Armand, and her husband, Percy. Her selfless concern for others has on occasion actually imperilled those she would give her life to save, so forceful is her desire to actively protect the people she loves. Her loyalty to her husband, the Scarlet Pimpernel, has never wavered, and has been tested many times. Initially insecure that his love for her, though great, was not as devoted as her own for him (‘He loved her and went away!’), Marguerite has learned to trust in her husband’s seemingly boundless good luck and ingenuity, supporting his dangerous mercy missions instead of trying to hold him back (‘the noble-hearted woman, whose very soul was wrapped up in the idolised husband, allowed herself to ride by his side on the buoyant waves of his enthusiasm’). She has even taken an active role in the League’s adventures, preferring to face her husband’s fate rather than be left without him (“If you go, I go with you”). If she sometimes gives into the emotional strain, and pleads for Percy to put her needs first, it is only because his love has come to shape Marguerite’s life (‘ the one man who had made her so infinitely proud and happy in his love’) ; from a young girl who thought herself incapable of love, and who claimed to have married for wealth and position, she has matured into a woman who is happiest in the company of her husband, and who will suffer any hardship to be with him. Marguerite has suffered greatly since learning of her husband’s dual identity, but she has also found a soul mate and earned the love of a noble-hearted, adventurous, and intense individual - somebody a lot like herself (“Are we not one, you and I?”) She understands that Percy’s honour is bound up in the reputation of the Scarlet Pimpernel, and that the strength of his love for her is proven by his dedication to others: ‘Nay, it intensified it, made it purer and better’.

Marguerite is not unaware of her physical charm, as it has helped to advance her career and attract admirers who flatter her vanity – but how much of her confidence is natural, and how much an act? Does she believe all that people tell her, about her beauty, wit and talent, or is she hiding behind a studied role?

Actress Vs. Child Marguerite definitely has a pampered ego, and will not let her guard down in public. Her republican philosophy that ‘money and titles may be hereditary, but brains are not’ seems to stem from her own self-image, rather than any political influence: she has only equals in society, never betters. When the aristocratic Comtesse de Tournay crosses Marguerite in public, the bourgeois actress regards her with ‘hard, set eyes’. Yet when the Comtesse refuses to let Marguerite speak to daughter Suzanne, a childhood friend of Marguerite’s, a ‘wistful, almost pathetic and childlike look’ replaces the defiant glare. This is Marguerite’s core: the young Mme. St Just within the haughty, practiced Lady Blakeney, and few are allowed to penetrate her perfect facade; only when she is alone can Marguerite relax, like one ‘long oppressed with the heavy weight of constant self-control’.

Love The key to earning Marguerite’s love is to win her trust. For all her brilliance and popularity, the twenty-five year old actress-turned-lady is emotionally insecure; before meeting Sir Percy, she had already consigned herself to a life alone: ‘I naturally believed it was not in my nature to love’. Why should such a beautiful, successful and young woman have closed her heart to happiness? After her rather unexpected and unconventional marriage, it was claimed that Mademoiselle St Just was a ‘brilliant matrimonial prize’ for which ‘there had been many competitors’, and this can be believed – but how many men might have proposed, how far they got, and what happened to them, seems not to have affected Marguerite. Even when speaking of Sir Percy, in the early days of their marriage, she can only say that she would have allowed herself to be ‘worshipped’ and ‘given infinite tenderness in return’; she does not speak of her love for him, because, at that point, she is not able to recognise it in herself (‘A woman’s heart is such a complex problem’).

Marguerite’s concept of love, as with her support of the revolution, is purely idealistic: she has notions of how it should be, but her upbringing has sheltered her from gaining any experience of the realities. Her formative years were spent in a Paris convent, where she was educated alongside the wealthy children of noble families, such as Suzanne de Tournay. After her education (she and Suzanne travelled to England, at one point, to study the language), Marguerite became an actress, making her debut at the Comédie Française when she was eighteen. Yet instead of succumbing to the attentions of male admirers at the theatre and perhaps becoming somebody’s mistress, she seems to have immersed herself in the romance and morality of the plays in which she acted, waiting for a ‘perfect love’ which might not exist. Percy’s slavish devotion to her flattered her vanity, but also appealed to her romantic imagination: when she talks of the Pimpernel, unaware of the connection with her husband, Marguerite reflects that ‘there was a man she might have loved’, the ‘shadowy king of her heart’ so like a character upon the stage in his bravery, chivalry and anonymity. She admits that she was ‘vain and frivolous’, attracted by Percy’s wealth and position, and takes advantage of all the trappings of her new lifestyle when he withdraws his love. Material possessions and a grand home in which to entertain a new court of admirers, however, are only superficial distractions; as Lady Blakeney, Marguerite is ‘lonely in the midst of her grandeur’.

Though praised for her beauty, wit and talent, Marguerite has always felt secretly undeserving and mistrustful of anything more than token flattery. Her vanity can accept compliments with ‘inimitable grace’, but she is wary of having to give anything in return. Though initially attracted to Sir Percy’s ‘curious intensity of concentrated passion’, it is the fact that she perceived him as ‘slow and stupid’ – or safe and submissive – which allowed Marguerite to overcome that main obstacle and agree to marriage. A clever or busy man would soon tire of Marguerite’s charms, her looks and her witty conversation, but she believed that an unquestioning slave such as Sir Percy would always worship her as a goddess, and bend to her will – which she accepted as no more than her due.

When Percy rejects her as soon as she becomes his wife, Marguerite is lost. She is ‘grateful’ to him, for his generosity, unceasing civility and polite attentions, but cannot comprehend the change in his attitude towards her. Loneliness, fear and a bruised ego cause her to defend herself in the only safe way she knows – by hiding her feelings behind a mask, and acting the role of her own life: ‘she, too, had worn a mask in assuming a contempt for him’. To maintain her dignity in public, and to try and rouse a strong reaction from her husband in private, Marguerite takes to mocking Sir Percy, who has similarly retreated behind the guise of society fop: she tries to ‘goad him to self-assertion’; ‘even amused herself by sharpening her ready wits at his expense’. When he merely accepts her taunts, she tries to stir his jealousy by flirting with other men, but Percy leaves her alone to do as she wishes, ‘to flirt, dance, to amuse or bore herself as much as she liked’, such is his pain over her apparent deception. Marguerite, like a vindictive child, wants to hurt her husband as much as the unexplained withdrawal of his love has hurt her, and says ‘cruel, insulting things, which she vaguely hoped would wound him’, but it is only her vanity that has been insulted. She assumed, before they married, that he would accept anything she did or said. Burdened with the guilt of her rash act of revenge, Marguerite told Percy of her part in the execution of the St Cyr family, trusting that her ‘boundless power’ over him would suppress his judgement of her, and took his silence as a lack of comprehension. Blinded by his devotion, Marguerite didn’t bother to learn about her husband’s true personality, just as he idolised his own image of her; only when she confronts her husband, after a year of estrangement, does she realise that her initial hesitation in confiding in him shattered his illusion of the ‘angel’ he married. When the permanence of marriage breaks the spell of their brief courtship, they begin to find out who it is they think themselves in love with. Percy learns about Marguerite’s human failings through her denunciation of the Marquis, and Marguerite must accept the exaggerated persona of her husband’s pride as his true self.

Armand ‘Her love for her brother, Armand St Just, was deep and touching in the extreme’: Marguerite is mother, sister, friend to Armand, and because he is the only person she can trust without reserve, ‘whom she dared to love’, the bond between them becomes like a lifeline to her. Losing their parents at a young age blurred the roles of their relationship: Armand, elder by eight years, became a father figure and chaperone to his young sister, and Marguerite, when she was old enough, provided a maternal influence in her brother’s life. Having Armand ‘near her to love and protect her, to guard her from the many subtle intrigues which were raging in Paris’ has obviously been a regulating factor in Marguerite’s unconventional upbringing. It is possible to imagine that he has saved her from her own guileless and impulsive nature, steering her away from unwelcome attentions on more than one occasion. Marguerite is naïve and sensitive beneath her cool attitude and arrogant beauty – she needs the advice of others to help her actively confront difficult situations, otherwise she is content to let events happen to her. And when she does act on impulse, to avenge her brother and her own injured pride, she is blind to the consequences until it is too late. Her denouncement of the treasonous Marquis de St Cyr, an unfortunate combination of her own petty desire for revenge and gullible nature, is the event which separates Marguerite and Percy immediately after their wedding.

Armand’s pivotal role in her life, however, makes Marguerite afraid to release her brother and trust in anybody else. Before he is to return to France, she holds him with ‘sudden strong, almost motherly passion’, and pleads with him that, “I have only you to care for me”, when what she probably means is that she has only Armand to love her. Her protective over-reaction is understandable, considering that Armand’s life is constantly under threat as a citizen of revolutionary France, but neither does Marguerite want to be left ‘alone’. Her brother’s first visit since beginning her new life in England as Lady Blakeney can only have intensified Marguerite’s feelings of loneliness and estrangement as a Frenchwoman in exile; her brother is her ‘home’, a link to the life she left behind. Already convinced that she will never love another being as wholly as she does her brother, ‘the only being in the whole world who has loved me truly and constantly’, her sisterly and maternal concerns for his safety are multiplied by her own fears of losing the last member of her immediate family, and being completely abandoned in a strange country with a husband who is cold towards her. Armand tries to reassure her, understanding ‘the reserve which lurked behind her frank, open ways’, but he is not as dependent upon her as she is with him.

Marguerite reveals to Armand the truth of her marriage, and hints at how unhappy she is in her new life, but her pride will not allow her to break down completely. After only a year apart, Armand finds himself locked out of his sister’s deepest confidence, and has to form his own conclusions based on his understanding of Marguerite’s nature. He realises that she has misjudged and underestimated her husband, not recognising that he could be as proud and headstrong as her until it was too late, and that her bargaining on a ‘fool’ might have been miscalculated. Armand regrets the distance between them, but as Lady Blakeney, she will not let down her guard, even to her brother.

Fate

Until she follows her husband to Paris to save his life, attempting to redeem herself by repairing the consequences of her actions, Marguerite tends to view the choices she makes as being beyond her control: ‘Fate had decided, had made her speak, had made her do a vile and abominable thing’. Without the support of a third party to ‘shift from her young, weak shoulders this terrible burden of responsibility’, Marguerite disassociates herself from her actions, in a defensive bid to spare her conscience: ‘What had she done to have deserved all this?’ Perhaps the greatest example of this is her view of the St Cyr executions, and the extent of her role in their downfall. The Marquis was a traitor to his country, a royalist and an aristocrat seeking military intervention from Austria, and this information was known by other people before Marguerite learned of it ‘amongst her own coterie’, but this doesn’t change the fact that she then, with ‘a few thoughtless words’, denounced the Marquis to the Assembly (probably via Chauvelin). Nor was her desire for retribution motivated by patriotism or political ideals – the Marquis’ crime was personal: ‘what her brother must have suffered in his manhood and his pride must have been appalling; what she suffered through him and with him she never attempted to even analyse’. Still naïve and immature, for all her renowned salon wit, Marguerite failed to foresee the fatal consequences of her actions, although her ‘friends’ were fully aware (‘they trapped and duped me’). ‘Horrified’ at the repercussions of her ‘thoughtlessness’, Marguerite ‘strain[ed] every nerve, us[ed] every influence’ to reverse what she had set in motion and save the St Cyrs, but it was ‘too late’. Satisfied that she had done all she could, Marguerite was able to convince herself that ‘fate had merely stepped in’, and that she was actually ‘morally innocent’. Spiteful, ignorant and easily influenced, she probably didn’t think beyond humiliating the Marquis, who had punished her brother, and therefore insulted her own bourgeois background, for being socially beneath his family – but that she did so in a petty bid for revenge makes Marguerite far from blameless.

Entirely free of false humility, Marguerite is equally aware of her attractions and her failings. She complains to Chauvelin about the incongruence of living in a land of ‘fogs and virtues’, and observes to the Prince of Wales that ‘virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when it is crushed’. Marguerite’s bohemian lifestyle as an actress, earning a living in deception and courted as a republican mascot, contrasts sharply with her strict and pious childhood in the convent, and the dichotomy of the two goes a way towards explaining her liberal yet penitent attitude to life. Whereas there is no doubt that Marguerite enjoys life, as the ‘darling of a brilliant throng, adored, feted, petted, cherished’, with ‘the joy of living writ plainly’ upon her face, her generous and compassionate spirit is easily disturbed by the cruelty and suffering around her. Her cynical wisdom and sharp wit display a pensive and distrustful side to her youthful personality, as she warns her brother that ‘little sins are far less dangerous and uncomfortable’. An ardent supporter of the ‘lofty virtues’ that inspired the Revolution, Marguerite welcomed the new Republic, but when the words and visions of philosophers like Rousseau and Mirabeau were replaced by the harsher realities of violence and executions, she was horrified and quickly abandoned the bloody excesses of France for the security of England.

Class

Marguerite is trapped between social plateaus in ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’: proclaiming herself a republican with ‘an enthusiasm for liberty and equality’, she is originally from a middle-class background, elevated in her own sphere by her beauty and wit, and then removed from her queenly position in Paris to become a pretender to the aristocracy in England upon her marriage. Sir Percy is a baronet, on the next to the lowest rung of the peerage, but his wealth, good name and novelty value in the Prince of Wale’s court ensure that he is accepted amongst the higher ranks of society (at least two of the League are lords). However, this still makes rather a hypocrite of Marguerite, who, despite professing that ‘money and titles may be hereditary, but brains are not’, seems to enjoy her new status. She accepts ‘jewels and luxuries’ from Sir Percy, in place of affection and a happy marriage, and adapts to the privilege and insularity of English society within a year. At Brogard’s inn, when she and Sir Andrew travel to Calais to warn Percy that Chauvelin is on his trail, Marguerite is disgusted by her fellow ‘citizen’, thoroughly acting the part of the pampered aristocrat as she holds her handkerchief to her ‘dainty nose’ and stares ‘in horror’ at her surroundings.

She and Chauvelin are both idealists, preferring rhetoric to action; when the diplomat seeks to enlist her patriotic assistance in Dover, Marguerite asks, ‘What can I do, here in England?’ Overhearing her confrontation with the haughty Comtesse de Tournay, Chauvelin confronts Marguerite with this typical example of social injustice in the hope that her bruised pride will make her an ally, but Marguerite can defend herself. Instead of betraying the brave Pimpernel to punish the undeserving aristocrats he rescues, such as the de Tournays, Marguerite calls the Comtesse’s bluff with the aid of the Prince of Wales, ‘with a wealth of mischief in her twinkling blue eyes’. As a bourgeois actress, Marguerite has suffered the prejudice and arrogance of the aristocracy, inspiring her faith in the Republican creed of ‘liberty, equality, fraternity’, but her popular reception amongst the London ton, and the Royal protection she enjoys as a friend of the Prince of Wales, tempers her vehemence. Marguerite’s primary motivation is safeguarding the security and happiness of herself and those closest to her: to avenge a brother, she spoke out of spite, and to provide for her future, she turned on her homeland. Money and titles may not matter to Marguerite, but neither will she renounce personal advantages on principle; without ‘her rank, her dignity, her secret enthusiasms’, she is always Marguerite St Just.

#the scarlet pimpernel #marguerite st just #lady blakeney #sir percy blakeney #character study #suzanne de tournay #armand st just #merle oberon #leslie howard

15 notes · View notes

nebula-starlight · 4 years

Text

Sepsis (Pt. 15: Their Weapon)

He was weary and seeing the stormy gray clouds overhead as he flew only confirmed the melancholy nestled in him. How long had he been out on his mission now? It had been months since he last saw Versila, always kept busy with being the Shield he was desired of by Magnus. To be without an active task made him feel sluggish and worn down but while on the hunt his mind and senses were razor sharp. They had to be in his line of work now. Hunting down those Corrupt that plagued their beautiful lands and ending them before they could spread their vile disease to innocent others.

But even now, with only the cool damp breeze and the sounds of his own wingbeats to keep him company, he had little else to do other than reflect. Reflect on how his life had spiraled into the position he now was in. Far more than ever before he wished to have Igna in his life again. He had tried to find the tunnels he had fled from that fateful night, tried to find her broken body so he could at least give her a proper burial, but it had all been for naught. Searching the thickly overgrown woods had only left him with disappointment and a seething inner loathing that he couldn’t give the only friendly spirit he’d known for moons one simple act of kindness in return. She was like a mother to him deep in his soul. A comfort to him in the darkest nights when the dreams and past terrors threatened to consume him with their long claws of fear.

There was no doubt he was happier now than he had been in his youth. He had Versila, had a job, and even held some measure of respect amongst the citizens of the Capital to his utter surprise. The repeated meetings with Magnus in private only served to further the feeling that he was on the right path for his life. Sure he seldom saw his beloved mate much between the lengthy searching for those Corrupt but she seemed to support his decision. After all, she had cried on the night he first told her of the position Magnus had offered to him. He’d thought at the time it was tears of happiness and delight but now… He scowled, gliding to another wind current that would hopefully lift him higher.

Versila… Had he caught her sneaking medication when he wasn’t looking? It had just been a brief glimpse when he saw the bottle she hastily shoved deep into a drawer before kissing him as she left to go to her job. Why would she not bring up that she was ill to him? Did she not trust him? Surely whatever it was they could face it together as they always had since becoming joined in union. Perhaps if time allowed he would ask her about such things when he arrived home. He doubted Magnus would send him out again without a day or two of rest.

Overall it was the end of a long task he was looking forward to as he finally caught sight over the vast rolling plains of their gleaming, towering Capital. He was so close to being back home he could almost taste it and the sight seemed to breathe fresh strength into his weary wings. Soon he would see her again and put to ease the doubts that had begin to nag at the back of his mind.

Glancing at the few brave soldiers under his command who had survived and were accompanying him back, he gave his instructions with a silent nod. They had their lives to return to and, if needed, he would call for them each separately to provide details for the statement that was to be delivered to The Council. They flew in close formation, each a varying shade of gray or black depending on their level of exposure to Corruption save for him who had been made to be a weapon against the dark. Taking the lead, Nethreis guided them over the Capital, calling out with a bellow to those who guarded the outer walls of the high city.

“The Shadowcrest return! No shoot!”

Once he was assured they would not be attacked by those who did not recognize the armor or what it stood for, he circled around the grand city with his following troops before taking to the well cared grounds in front of The Council’s observatory skyrise. Nethreis landed first, wincing as he folded his weary wings against his side and turned to thank each member who had returned with him. There would be time to mourn those lost once the fight was well and truly won and he knew those under his command knew it likewise.

“Each go and rest. I see to statement personally.”

The older of his soldiers nodded in relief and took flight with warm wishes that it would be quick and uneventful while some of the newer, younger troops seemed unsure. His eyes scanned over theirs, seeing a mix of eager anticipation of rest and apprehension that he would still be in need of their services.

“Be with yours. This is mine task.” He kept his voice gentle, trying to persuade them to trust his words and see to their own restful recovery following the long journey that had taken them months to complete.

Even after the last of those under his command left he still stayed, watching long into the distance at the dim auburn hue of the sun’s fading light upon the thick clouds along the horizon. Perhaps his report could wait until morning to deliver? They had made excellent time in returning and his last correspondence with Magnus had ensured the Councilmember that they would be “arriving within a fortnight should Soleil bless them with strong winds.” That deadline was in fact in the morning and he was, quite frankly, exhausted from the return flight. Besides, Versila had to be missing him terribly and he longed for her so much…

Making up his mind, he turned and started down the worn cobblestone towards the housing district of the city. A goodnight’s rest was very much owed him and he would gladly take it before relaying the news of their vast quest over the wild lands beyond the Capital. With any luck he’d surprise Versila as well and she would be overjoyed to welcome him safely home.

—————

He looked around the messy interior of the house he had bought for them with the money he received from his promotion to being the leader of the Shadowcrest at Magnus’s proposal. She had never been one to let things go into such disarray before and it frightened him deep inside to think for just a moment that perhaps the home had been ransacked by street scum looking to make easy money. Growling, he shook his head, reminding himself that at one point his Versila was among those who roamed the Capital streets begging for food or shelter from the cold.

Glancing again at the broken mirror overhead of the empty, burnt out fireplace, he twitched at the creak of wood from behind him. Turning, his eyes glowed as fire rose in his throat and the instinct of being ambushed by those tainted nearly overtook him before the source of the noise spoke up softly.

“Oh, you came home. She’s not here. Hasn’t been for days now. But- But nothing is stolen or missing, Monsieur Shield.” Their neighbor, an elderly air spirit, stuttered from the open doorway into the house.

Nethreis forced himself to relax, fire cooling even as his shoulders stiffened in alarm. Where was his beloved? Why would she just up and leave without telling anyone? Had she even told anyone? His crimson eyes blinked as he tried to reign his swirling thoughts in so he could hear if the old spirit chose to say more. When several minutes passed in awkward silence he realized that he was the one who needed to respond.

“Thank… Does anyone know where went?”

“No sir. Charlia even went to check with the Healers but she never reported to work either. I’m just lucky my wife happened to see you walking home.”

So Versila hadn’t gone to work then… Work was her source of peace, he supposed. She’d said once that her working there was a way for her to atone for her sins but at the time he hadn’t understood what she meant. Even now he was uncertain but he quickly decided it might be wise if he went to the Healers personally to inquire. As much as he trusted Charlia and Atros, they were still common members of spirit society.

“Appreciate tell.” He nodded, shifting uneasily as a plan started to form in his head of how best to go about getting information. Rest would have to wait for now until he knew more.

“Don’t stress over it. If you want you can sleep at our place for the night. No offense but you look about ready to drop where you stand.”

Nethreis ignored the remark, eyes flickering back to the shattered mirror again. Why break a mirror? Was there something in her reflection that Versila didn’t wish to see? She had never expressed a reservation about the mirror before that he could recall. Yet for some reason he kept glancing at the broken shards as though they held an important piece of the puzzle.

“Monsieur Shield…?”

Cold crimson eyes darted back to the old spirit with bitter disdain as for but a second the illusions faltered to show the orange scars along Nethreis’s dark scales. “Leave.”

He didn’t bother to see if Atros obeyed the request or not, putting a forepaw to his chest in a moment of silent self reflection. If he could just find her or find where she might have gone… Maybe his distance had left her feeling hurt or abandoned? Naturally he never wanted her to feel that way but he had to follow the orders of The Council and Magnus. It was just like when he was out hunting down the Corrupt. He just had to find a strand to be able to track them down. Now he had to use that same technique to find his beloved and get answers.

Sleep was no longer an option to him for the foreseeable future it seemed. He had far more pressing matters than allowing himself to relax now. And he wouldn’t stop until he knew the truth.

—————

Going to see the Healers had not given him what he had expected to find. While it was true Versila had not checked in to work in several days, one younger member of the group had seen her the day before she stopped coming in and she had “seemed off.” He tried to ask for more clarification but was shooed away and told trying to question her would only complicate the current murder investigation underway. That was troubling news as killings simply were never openly talked about within cities. They still happened of course but almost immediately got swept under the rug by whoever the spirit ruling over that particular area was.

But Nethreis was determined to know and so he decided to find out by questionable means. By which he took a seat outside and seemed to sink into the evening shadows, becoming as invisible as the approaching night so he could listen in without being in danger of being discovered. Truthfully it was a power he seldom used because extended, prolonged duration tired him out but with how dire things were he figured the risk of pushing himself further into exhaustion was well worth it.

Luckily it didn’t take long for him to discover why it was so secretive. It wasn’t every day one of the Lead Healers went ballistic and murdered another in the same practice. He knew the levels of panic that would instill in the common citizens and quickly retreated from his shadowy hole that he’d been listening in. When he resurfaced it took him a moment to steady his breathing, the last bit of news he’d heard as he left hitting him in the chest just as sharp as a whip. His beloved was last seen fleeing in the night out of the city and out towards the mountains that rose to the north.

He blinked, feeling hot, inky tears roll down his cheeks. It… It had to be wrong. Versila wasn’t like that. Surely something had to have happened for it to be… for her to… to… She wasn’t a killer! But what if it wasn’t her anymore? What if somehow she’d become infected? They’d said her color was starting to gray in spots and ke knew that as a sign of one exposed to Corruption. Finding her, even in the dead of night, had to be his single focus now. No matter how much his wings ached as he flared them and rose to his feet. She was a part of him and there was no mistaking the hollowness that felt like a weight tugging at his soul. Wherever she was, she needed him.

Glowing irises surveyed the skies for a moment before he threw himself upwards into the air and immediately all thoughts ceased in his head. All except the realization it was a hunt and he very much enjoyed indulging in those with anewed sharpened senses. Magnus would be pleased if he got rid of another poisoned by the vile darkness. Relation didn’t matter in a hunt. It just got in the way of enjoying the satisfaction of killing. At least maybe this time he could bring back a trophy to remember later.

As far as Nethreis Ignis comprehended things, he had his next task all without even having to be issued one by those greater in position than he. Surely Magnus would be delighted that he went to confront and subdue another potentially Corrupt entirely on his own. He had the Councilmember’s favor after all and that was vital to his reputation within the Capital. For now his flight would take him to the Northern Mountains no doubt where snow fell year round upon the lofty jagged peaks. Should her coloration still be mostly pristine ivory, tracking her would be somewhat challenging in the arctic terrain. A hunter never turned away from a hunt they believed themselves capable of winning.

He forced his wings down, catching an uprising draft and began to ascend, screeching a challenge as far as his voice would carry. Their home would be free from the vileness of Corruption and he would make it so as his most sacred vow. None tainted should have a home within the gilded gates and now, with his hunt newly begun, he bellowed again a warning into the biting winds. If by chance she sought to return, whether innocent or not, she would need to pass by him first. The Capital’s Shield was his title and he wore it with the utmost pride a spirit of his caliber could. Relaxing his still weary muscles, he set his crimson sights on the white blanketed cliffs towering in the distance and flew onward in complete silence.

#sepsis #part 1 of the finale #nether #versi

14 notes · View notes

sailingintothenight · 4 years

Text

“WANNABE.” T.H. Imagine.

And what if after years of chasing each other like a cat and mouse, you and Tom started to wonder if you wanna be something else in each other's life?

A/N: I am posting a one shot after weeks of writer's block. I hope you like it. It's 9:30 pm in Peru and it's still April 28, so it's still my birthday! Give it a try. Pleaseeeeee! And yes, I borrowed a scene from Mean Girls (Because I loveeee that movie)

“Hello God, it's me again, (y/n). What's up? I know we haven't talked much lately, but, hey, listen, I have a favor to ask you- I have behaved well, I haven’t gotten drunk at any crazy party of any Hollywood star and I haven't accepted drugs, ever: I'm afraid my grandmother will appear in my room as a ghost and pull my blankets in the middle of the night, plus, I haven't make out with any Stone-cold Hollywood hottie, and trust me, I've had more than one chance. Anyway, about the favor–”

"Yes, but (y/n)'s grandfather invited us to his birthday party..."

Tom's voice startles you and cuts off your internal dialogue, turning you back to the reality.

It’s 6 am. The sun shines in the clear sky, and you are on a flight back to England in a luxury privet jet that is about to arrive at the airport, while Haz, Harry, Tom and you are sitting in comfortable velvety seats, with the view of morning sky on your left side.

The exciting memory of your last recording still seemed to run through your veins, too exciting to let you sleep. Because that was the end, the goodbye after incredible months. All your efforts from the past months were hidden behind that last performance that looked like a fantasy, except for the kiss, ugh, you had to erase it from your mind. But now, you're going back home, ready to take a break away from the set-up bridge and blue and green backgrounds, away from the makeup artists who gave your face the final touches of the magic of Hollywood, far from the suit of a superhero who had just won her last battle and who got the cute boy, Peter Parker.

But not far away from Tom Holland.

Because evil takes a human form in Tom Holland, your lifelong neighbor.

How do you even begin to explain Tom Ho– Stop, people say that if you pronounce his name 3 times a curse falls on you.

But fans say Tom Holland is flawless, you heard his curly hair is insured for 10,000 dollars, his favorite movie is “Spider-man Homecoming”, duh, and very soon, “far from home”. One time he met Robert Downey Jr. in his own village and he started hyperventilating, and once he threw a fan's phone on the floor and she said it was awesome.

"Please don't tell me you're going to his birthday party." You complain, because you can't help it.

"Would that bother you that much, darling?" Tom smiles, tilting his head back so that his tender smile fits perfectly with his tender face. “Then of course I will go. Also, your grandfather still has the hope his granddaughter would get a man like me.”

"Ew. Why would my dear grandfather want me to be with someone who enjoys keeping a frog in his mouth?" You ask, earning yourself an Oscar for best actress with the innocence you exude and the seriousness you manage to put on your face, even when Tom's eyes narrow from the attack you just launched, while, enjoying the show, his friend and his younger brother laughs, shaking heads with a familiar expression on their faces because of the familiar discussion between you and him that happens, every two or three days. "Seriously, Tom, give the poor Henry a break."

"Henry?" Tom asks with real confusion, his accent thick, while the other male voices ask it in a collective whisper too.

"I named your frog Henry, hope it doesn't bother you." And you laugh, victorious to feel how Tom exhales the air through his nose.

“Seriously, (y/n), when will you confess that you are in love with me? You don't have to be so shy, darling.” Tom laughs too, using his finger to tap your nose, because he knows perfectly well that you don't like that, just as you don't like being called darling anymore. “Ray is a wise man, you should listen to your grandfather."

"Yes, if you like skinny ones."

"I'm not skinny. I have the perfect body.” Tom defends himself.

"For now, but in a couple of years you will named your big belly as your dad does after drinking with mine." You laugh like a little girl because you love Dom, because he's warm and funny, because he loves his wife and children, and because of how funny he is when he and your dad have had too much alcohol, like the time they started a cartwheel contest in the middle of the street. "Who's there? It's Dom Junior.”

"Shut up! My dad is still sexy!” A heavy silence falls over the small place as everyone looks at Tom with furrowed brows and true confusion, but that's when he realizes the choice of words he used to refer to his dad. "That's not what I meant!"

You raise your hands in a sign of peace, your gaze avoiding his as you stop yourself from laughing and mocking him.

"That's so wrong, Tom." Harry says, with a certain bittersweet taste on the tip of his tongue. "Now because of you I won't be able to see dad's belly the same way."

Harry and Haz chuckle at Dom's expense.

But when the jet landed smoothly on the headlight-lit runway in the early hours of the morning, the heavy hours from the past months feels now as if they weighed the same as a feather, pain and exhausting sleepless nights disappeared in the blink of an eye, and now, there is no oceans that could make you feel far away, because in the end, you always came back home.

"Besides..." You say to finish that conversation, your backpack on your shoulder before making the victory path towards the stairs to get off the plane. "I would like a boyfriend who can grow a mustache, not like the failed attempt on your face. Thank you very much."

"Hey!" Tom frowns as you pass him by, and his voice rises even higher than it already is. "My doctor says it's just a hormone problem."

"Damn, bro..." Harry laughs as he puts an arm around Tom's shoulder, giving him a brotherly hug before walking out to the car waiting outside. “(Y/n) will be hard to catch, you know? But try it, maybe you will make it in this century."

Harry laughs, and then, walks out of the plane.

"What does that mean?" Tom asks Harrison, who is still waiting by his side.

"I think he meant that you are in love with (y/n), but you haven't noticed it yet."

Harrison chuckles, but after patting Tom on the back, he rushes to place a hand on his best friend's shoulder to stop him.

“Hey, mate… you, uh…” Tom's eyes soften, almost to the point where his brown eyes resembled the gaze of a little 5-year-old boy, sad, and lost. “You haven't told anyone why we came back, right?”

“Of course not.” Harrison says, and his gaze smiles just like his lips. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? We are home, you are home. You can take the time you need to rest.”

Tom nods, unsure, but tries to be strong as they both get off the plane.

The gray autumn clouds hang with invisible strings in the sky as Tom Holland, actor, handsome, wealthy, and the loneliest person in the world, releases a deep breath that is lost among the sounds of the world, because his world is no longer sparkling or velvety thanks to the cameras or a red carpet, and while his new movie is a box office hit that never in his best dreams he would have imagined, something wasn't right for him.

That’s why he is back home.

The car ride is silent as some sleep, except you and Tom, because your eyes seem to recognize the streets you grew up in, because your hearts recognize your home. But for Tom, he recalls tilting his body to the left and a camera captured his best actor pose a week ago, but since then, his body has felt null, as if floating in the air and no longer responding to his orders. He was crystal clear, but a few people seemed to see clearly through him. Tom tries to convince himself that the tickling in his hands is his body's response to tiredness and not his anxiety, because he suffers it too, but he feels that something is eating his soul.

"Are you okay, Tom?"

Among a sea of people, Tom Holland has always pretended to be an interesting person, but now, he takes a deep breath and looks at you, nervous, lost in the middle of that huge world, but you, looking back at him gives him peace, because he doesn’t feel alone anymore.

What did you think? That someone is interested in knowing if you are really okay? Of course they care, right?

“Of course, darling.” Tom smiles, as if in a snap of fingers, everything is fine.

But there, he catches a movement of yours.

You tilt your head to the side, like his beloved Tessa when she is curious about something, but he doesn't say it out loud because you would take it the wrong way, but the movement in slow motion worthy of a Hollywood scene and the serenity of your gaze makes Tom hold his breath, that breath that previously didn't fit his chest with so many problems that he carried inside.

But suddenly he can breathe again, finally.

“Okay.”

The minutes pass until the car stops on a street that you two recognize perfectly. When everyone is out, the car leaves, but because your favorite boys are about to leave, too, you hug everyone as the promise to celebrate Harrison's birthday next week hangs in the air. You love them so much, because they are beautiful people who helped you to save yourself from the storms of doubts and fears, each of them in their own charming way, and for that, you were grateful.

"My friend Danielle is coming so I would like you to meet her, Haz." You chuckle adorably before leaving, noting that Harrison's smile is as real as his desire to meet her.

"I'm looking forward to it, darling."

"Wait, why he can call you darling?" Tom says, and for a second, you see a sparkle in the brightness of his eyes, but as the door of his house opens and his beloved Tessa runs to receive him, the confusion disperses like the morning haze.

"There she is the only darling you will ever get, Thomas."

And the moment you turn around, because the door of your house opens too, you lose sight of Tom's honest smile and the question that he hides behind his sweet eyes. Was he in love with you all this time without realizing it? And what if he wanna be your boyfriend?

Oh, right. The favor that you were going to ask God for? To get you a boyfriend, a cute one, a hot one... maybe like Tom. Weird, isn't it?

Tag list: @galaxies-of-the-heart

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland spiderman #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

229 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

I Promise to Kiss You (Before You Die) : 1/7

Here it is, my Little Women AU! I love the book, and the 1994 movie version with Winona Ryder is one of my favorite movies. I haven't seen the newest film version yet, and it's all because I'm writing this fic. This one is based on the 1994 film, particularly the scene where Laurie promises a young Amy that he'll kiss her before she dies (that's not in the book, if you're wondering). I'm probably in the minority of people who prefer Laurie with Amy over Jo. I think Jo was right - they would have fought like cats and dogs. They were too much alike. I think the book also develops the relationship between Laurie and Amy better and shows that Amy grows up and matures past her shallowness. Movie versions never have time to show all of that. Anyway, when I read the book I absolutely adored Laurie with Amy. THEN, I was blown away to find the quote below in the book in which Amy calls Laurie her "gallant captain." Obviously, Emma is a lot different personality wise from Amy. The only similarity is that they are both blondes. For that reason, this fic won't completely follow the Little Women plot. Also, this will only show things from Emma's point of view, so the plot threads with the other sisters won't be developed as much as they normally are. Hence, we have a seven chapter MC rather than a thirty-five + chapter MC 😆

Massive thanks to the mods of the @captainswanmoviemarathon for putting this event together! Love to all the other writers in the discord chats, especially for help with the title. Huge shout out to my beta @hookedonapirate - you're the best!

Summary: Emma noticed him first, never forget that, and while all four of the Lucas sisters love Killian Jones, no one loves him the way Emma does, of that she is certain. Killian Jones also made her a promise. Sure, she was only twelve when he made it, but one day he'll realize what it meant. One day, she hopes, he'll get over her sister Ruby and finally notice Emma.

Rated: T

Also on Ao3 , updated every Thursday.

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @xsajx

Chapter One: Prologue

“It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me; he isn’t sentimental, doesn’t say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don’t seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble hopes and impulses and purposes, and am so proud to know it’s mine. He says he feels as if he ‘could make a prosperous voyage now with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast.’ I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him while God lets us be together. Oh, Mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be when two people love and live for one another!” - Amy about Laurie in Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

If anyone had been out on the streets of Storybrooke, Maine on the windy, snowy Christmas Eve of 1863, they would have found lights ablaze in the most prestigious homes of the small hamlet. Save for one.

The Gold mansion upon the hill was not only lit up like your proverbial Christmas tree, but carriages lined the circular drive as the most powerful men from the surrounding six counties arrived for Robert Gold’s lavish annual bash with their families in tow. They would wine and dine in excess of frivolity for the next twelve days of the season.

The white grecian columns of the Mills Mansion would also sparkle with firelight, though the wealthy matron Regina Mills didn’t gather quite the crowd. Her festivities would be far more sedate and her crowd older. Of course the money was older too and not as dripping with unscrupulous business deals as Gold’s. It would mostly be family as well, though that was nothing to sneeze at, considering Regina Mills’ clan could trace their lineage back to the Mayflower.

The mysterious mansion of Admiral Nemo Jones, retired hero of the United States Navy, wasn’t filled with guests. However, the rooms of the mansion still blazed with light as the generous man allowed his staff to fully celebrate the holiday, complete with Christmas bonuses and lavish gifts. In a way it was also a welcome home party for his nephew, who had been lost and wandering on the other side of the ocean until Nemo had tracked him down.

The only fine family of Storybrooke Maine (though many would say they were once a fine family - past tense) whose home was not ablaze on this festive evening were the Lucases. Some would say it was because Marco Lucas had been gone these past two years fighting (unnecessarily they would also claim) in the War Between the States. Others would say it was because the Lucases had squandered their fortune taking in orphans and vagrants. Others would say it was their involvement in that embarrassing underground railroad that had cost them their fortune and respect. They would all be wrong.

The women gathered around the wavering firelight in the Lucas parlor did miss Marco Lucas terribly, and it was true that money was tight. Yet the reason their house flickered with only the tiniest light was because all they needed was each other.

Paulette Lucas, affectionately called “Granny” by all who knew her, sat knitting in her rocker with a candle flickering on the table beside her. The girls had begged her to take one night off from the task, but there were too many soldiers in need to stop even for a night. She battled a smile as she focused on her task, knowing a letter from her husband was tucked into her apron pocket.

Ruby Lucas, as usual, was standing far too close to the fire. Her long, dark hair fell in waves over her shoulder. She was a striking beauty, and mothers watched her askance at the scandalous way she refused to wear her hair up though she was already sixteen. She was the only one who was a true granddaughter to Mrs. Lucas. Her mother, a scandal herself, had died of consumption in a saloon out west when Ruby was still an infant. Who her father was, no one knew. That probably had more to do with the scandalous looks rather than her hair (though the latter certainly didn’t help).

Mary Margaret Blanchard sat on the other side of the lamplight from Granny, helping with the knitting. Though she was the oldest of the girls, at seventeen, she had been living with Granny the shortest amount of time. Her parents knew the Lucases through the underground railroad, so when Mary Margaret’s mother passed of scarlet fever when she was ten, her father sent her to them. Only less than a year later, her father was arrested for violating the fugitive slave act. While in prison, he contracted scarlet fever and died.

Belle French sat by the hearth with several kittens mewling in her lap. She was engrossed in the book she held in one hand while her other stroked the kittens absently. Some would say she was even more beautiful than Ruby, even at only fourteen, yet her quiet demeanor and delicate nature turned fewer heads. Belle had been the Lucas’ youngest pupil when they still ran their boarding school. She was only seven when it was forced to close, and her father simply never came back for her.

Then, finally, there was Emma Swan - the only one of Granny’s girls who was still a child. Twelve year old Emma sat curled up in her favorite armchair with a sketchpad in her lap. Her drawing pencils were worn down to almost nubs, yet still she scratched away with her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. Her blonde hair was a riotous mess, her fingers were smudged with charcoal, and her feet were bare. Not that anyone cared - the Lucas house never stood on ceremony, especially when they were alone. Granny had a difficult time keeping shoes on the child anyway, considering she had spent the first five years of her life without them. She was the child Storybrooke called “the urchin” - mostly in whispers, but sometimes when Emma could hear. Granny had literally found her eating out of the rubbish bin. The benefit of those humble beginnings were that Emma found their current “poverty” hardly trying.

So, dear reader, do not assume that lack of finery equals a lack of happiness. The Lucas women will put aside their knitting, their books, their drawing paper and gather eagerly around Granny’s chair to hear their Papa’s latest letter. They will joyfully sing carols around their out of tune piano. Then they will share hugs and kisses goodnight and head to bed with more love in their hearts than all the other “fine” homes in Storybrooke combined. And across the hedge from their house, in the Jones mansion, a dark haired boy will watch the flickering lights of their candles - counting them: one, two, three, four - as they head up the stairs. He’ll watch them go out one at a time and wonder about the hands that hold them.

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

“Merry Christmas!” Emma yelled the following morning, eliciting a groan from Belle, whom she shared a room with. Emma simply rolled her eyes. It was Belle’s own fault - she had stayed up far too late reading again.

“It’s Christmas!” Emma continued to shout as she banged on doors and then thundered down the stairs. “It’s Christmas!”

Her sisters followed her reluctantly, groaning and complaining all the way. Emma ignored them as she fell to her knees beside the Christmas tree.

“Oh hush now,” Granny admonished, “every single one of you were the same at her age.”

“This one’s from me, Granny,” Emma said as soon as Granny sat in her rocker. She thrust an intricately wrapped package into the woman’s lap, then scooted close. Her sisters looked on fondly as soon as they saw that Emma’s enthusiasm wasn’t a selfish one. Granny peeled back the wrapping carefully, setting aside the ribbon Emma had used to tie it. When the gift was revealed, the woman gasped.

“Emma, sweetheart, this is lovely!” It was a sketch of Granny’s favorite tree in the garden next to the house, and Emma had captured it in all its autumn glory of reds, oranges, and yellows.

“I used the last of my colored pencils to get it just right,” Emma told her proudly.

Granny pressed the gift to her chest as she fought back tears. Oh, how she wished she could have afforded another set of drawing pencils for her dear Emma!

None of the gifts beneath the tree were store bought, yet each one was exclaimed over with joy. Somehow, the ingenuity that had gone into making them made them infinitely more valuable. Soon, the tree had nothing beneath it but ribbons and paper.

“I’ll play us a carol!” Belle announced. She sat before the piano, and they all tried to ignore that one key that was never in tune.

As her sister played, Emma pressed her face to the glass of the parlor window. Her eyes widened to see a boy in Admiral Nemo’s house, playing a piano of his own. Of course, his was an incredibly fine piano that was surely always in tune.

“A boy!” Emma cried out. “There’s a boy next door!”

Belle abruptly stopped playing, and the Lucas sisters scrambled to the window, all talking at once.

“A boy?” Ruby asked, pushing the curtains aside further.

“At Nemo’s?” Mary Margaret asked incredulously.

“How old is he?” Emma asked, frustrated that she’d been pushed aside.

“What does he look like?” Belle asked, trying to see beneath Ruby’s arm. “What a fine piano he has,” she sighed when she was able to get a glance.

“I would hate to live with that scary old man.” Emma wrinkled her nose.

“Poor thing,” Mary Margaret tsked sympathetically.

“You don’t think he’ll come to call?” Belle suddenly gasped, looking nervously at her sisters and then over at Granny.

“You mean call, as in courting?” Ruby laughed.

Mary Margaret laughed, too, “You ninny, he’s rich! He would never come courting the likes of us.”

“Thank goodness,” sighed Belle in relief, looking back out the window. She cocked her head as she studied him, “He’s awfully handsome.”

“Girls!” Granny admonished. “Come away from there before the poor boy catches you gawking at him as if he’s on display. Really, I have taught you some propriety.”

“Do you know him, Granny?” Emma asked as she settled down before the fire to play with the spinning top Papa had carved for them.

“I know of him,” Granny replied, eyes never leaving her knitting. Once again, she refused to put aside the chore. “He’s Admiral Nemo’s nephew. He was living in London, and the Admiral has been beside himself since his brother’s death trying to track the child down.”

“I hear he’s had no upbringing at all,” Mary Margaret told them in a scandalized whisper.

“You’ve heard of him too?” Ruby asked.

“At the Rose’s.” Mary Margaret worked as a governess for the wealthy Rose family. “His mother was an actress and his father a cad who abandoned them both.”

“Where was he?” Emma asked. “Why was it so hard to find him?”

“Living on the streets, they say,” Mary Margaret told her softly, sympathy coloring her eyes. Sympathy that Emma always had and always would despise.

Ruby headed back to the window and peered out with a grin upon her face. “It will be fun to have a boy next door.”

“Well,” Granny spoke with a sigh, “I don’t know what mischief is in that pretty head of yours, Ruby, but we will welcome the boy as warmly as we can.” She set aside her knitting and clapped her hands as if that were that. “Now, let’s go begin preparing our Christmas feast!”

The girls all rushed to follow Granny into the kitchen, but Emma stopped at the window, her hands grasping the curtains. Living on the streets they say. The song that the boy was playing, which could be heard faintly on the wind, ended, and he looked up from his sheet music. His eyes caught Emma’s, and he winked at her. She gasped and shoved the curtains closed.

#cs ff #captain swan movie marathon #csmm #cs little women au

50 notes · View notes