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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

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diamond trail II — myg

Plot: The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Yoongi x Consigliere!Y/N

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 3k+

Genre: Mafia | Marriage | Mature Themes/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: criminal activities, mentions of past abuse (outside of the pair), explicit smut (spanking and very brief anal play), mild violence, coarse language, prostitution.

Authors Note: the planning got a little wack but i think i’ve got it down now. hope you enjoy this part and make sure a like/reblog/comment go a long way!

Morning turned dull and dreary as the cloud hung heavy in the sky. The driveway darkened from and the grass shimmered from the thunderstorms last night but the weather didn’t relent in its greyness. You wore a deep emerald sweater dress, black coat and warm hat while the guards prepared your car.

Yoongi stayed quiet throughout the entire ride, hand still holding yours. Except his mind wandered to mentally prepare himself. Gang leaders don’t always agree to meetings nor do they end up well for anyone. You were the glue that held them together at this point.

Consiglieres’ normally always have good connections but your web was unbeatable. The amount of time you were able to keep Yoongis’ business on the down low and manage to keep it running in the same line. It was one of the reasons he fell in love. The aura of magnetism around you that attracted so many to trust you. Aside from your looks, the way you spoke and held yourself was something any experienced gang leader would be careful not to test.

Their meeting was in a neutral zone. In the private basement of Petunia Valley, a small florist shop situated near the outskirts of the city. Namjoons’ car already arrived to the scene. Daisy, the owner, had some trouble with gang members in the past. She came to you for some aid and you suggested that making a front for Gae Pa would put Daisy under their protection. Making it an act of war or treason if gang members attacked her.

She’d been safe ever since which gladdened your heart.

As you and Yoongi entered the flower shop, Daisy gave you the biggest smile. “Ma’am! It’s good to see you.” She bowed.

“Everything’s ready for the meeting.” You nodded towards the stairs.

“Yes, ma’am.” She nodded enthusiastically. “The tall man with the shades came in. I’ve given them some jasmine tea to calm themselves since he looked antsy. No funny business or fights though.”

You smiled and patted her shoulder. She looked so much happier than the crying girl with bruises littered on her face three years ago. “You’re looking well.”

Her pale cheeks flushed in pink. “All thanks to you, ma’am.”

Another car pulled up at the entrance.

“Let’s get this over with, sweetheart.” Yoongi gently rubbed your arm. He gave an extremely brief smile to Daisy before guiding you down the stairs.

Thankfully the basement had a faint floral scent to it with that tiny hint of fertilizer than you both hoped wouldn’t get too pungent as the hour passed. Namjoon sat at the wooden table, tattooed hand clasping the adorable pink floral cup with a clear grimace on his face. Clearly that jade bracelet messed with his head as much as the diamond gun did Yoongi.

The shades were probably to hide hangover or lack of sleep. Or both.

You sat at the head of the table being the meeting coordinator. One of Namjoons’ bodyguards poured you a cup of tea by his boss’ request. “Thank you.” You smiled.

“I’ll have some too,” Yoongi said.

“Get your own fucking tea.” Namjoon narrowed his gaze.

“Gentlemen.” You warned, spreading silence between the two leaders. Taking the teapot, you poured a cup for Yoongi and gently placed it in front of him.

Jimin walked down with three bodyguards crowded around him. He sat on the far end of the table, purposely ignoring both Yoongi and Namjoons’ presence. Being the only leader without a sigil or history, he must’ve been trying to keep an air of intimidation up. “Let’s get this over with.” He straightened out his coat.

“Ass without a sigil thinks he can scare us, Min.” Namjoon scoffed. “You believe that?”

“No I don’t, Kim.”

You sighed in slight exasperation. “I’ve called you three here because our reputations are being toyed with. By an elusive thief who is trying to create tension between the gangs.”

“Would you really consider that ones’ business as a gang?” Namjoon tilted his head to Jimin.

“I work and have significant influence and following in the underworld. So yes, it counts as a gang.”

“I was asking the real gang consigliere, kid.” Namjoon smiled bitterly.

“Namjoon…he’s right.” You explained to the best of your thinning patience.

“You might have to explain things to him a little slower, my lady.” Jimin smirked. “He tends to focus more on the curves of your breasts than anything you say.”

“Little brat wants to die today,” Yoongi seethed, teeth grinding.

Jimin scoffed, plump lips curling upwards. “This is a neutral zone. You can’t kill me unless you risk this entire flower shop getting burned down.”

“I’ll decide what happens to this shop and the ones who harm it, Mr. Park.” Your gaze sharpened on the man. “I’m sure your wife and kids wouldn’t appreciate having their vacation stopped short because you wouldn’t play nicely in a meeting.” All Jimins’ bodyguards standing ready to fight and the man himself holding a clipped tongue, lost for words. “Bora Bora, is it? Lovely place.”

Jimin bit down the insides of his cheeks, chest rising and falling as frustration twisted his usually pretty features. He raised his chin to maintain his pride. “Continue.”

Yoongi tried to hide the impressed smirk that desperately tried to tug at his lips.

“Thank you.” You tapped the side of your cup. “I don’t have enough information to pinpoint a culprit yet but it is definitely someone notorious to like chaos in the country. Our best lead could be to suspect Jwi Pa but it’s too obvious.”

“Don Byeol doesn’t really share her grandfathers’ viewpoints anymore,” Namjoon said. “If we had another Sapphire Assassin scandal on our hands, we’d probably all be dead by now. This thief wants us to die by killing each other by your theory.”

“Is it really for power if it’s so indirect?” Yoongi asked. “The way this guy’s working is like he just wants the chaos for sport.”

“Why don’t we just settle our differences now?” Jimin asked.

“‘cause you’re refusing to give me my sisters’ bracelet, dumbass.”

“I bought it fair and square.”

“There is a way I can get more information. During a charity event, I heard that a street gang leader rose up to the ranks by killing the Don of Mal Pa. A sort of revolution since the previous Don was getting a little too obsessed with creating piles than actual influence,” you said.

Mal Pa hadn’t been too popular ever since Don Chun Hei passed away. She didn’t have a lot of children so the leadership moved to underbosses and then associates. The meaningfulness of the gangs’ importance subdued and eventually became obsolete. However, the gang was still alive and apparently running under unknown leadership. It was a good place to start.

Except you would have to dig deeper if you were looking into a mystery gang like this. You’d have to visit him.

“I know an information broker who might be able to gain a lot of information of Mal Pa and the thievery itself.”

Yoongi didn’t need too long before his expression softened in realization. “Absolutely not.”

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Namjoon asked.

“He asks for information as his currency. Keeps his connections strong so you can only work with him a few times in dire circumstances.” The last time you had to gain information on the large robbery in Gae Pa and had to tell him that your father and brother were still alive in Singapore. “He can help me track down the thief. He might even be able to name him exactly.”

Yoongi curled his fingers into tight fists. Kim Seokjin. Always asking for the right things to keep up his popularity and wealth. Information can get you anywhere from the top of the most expensive building to the bottom most slums of the city. The country ran on it and Seokjin was one of the monarchs who owned it. “Is this the only way?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Even Namjoon and Jimin stayed quiet, unable to really comment on the matter. The only person at risk in this situation would be you. You knew all kinds of information but there were different promises and deals made in terms of spreading news on people and networks in the underworld.

Yoongi stared at you in silence. A mixed look of concern and anger twisting his features. Just let it this be over.

***

Seokjin knew what he was doing when he made the deal. Best way to gain power without being seen is to take advantage of the one with the most connections. You were the top tier.

Another storm poured down into the city the same night as you travelled to Seokjins’ favorite restaurant. Road glistened like polished obsidian, reflecting the pink neon of the entrance sign. You drove in alone but measures were taken to ensure your utmost safety in the matter. With a deep breath, you walked through the restaurant with an air of confidence.

Seokjin sat at the booth, tapping the side of his sherry glass. When he noticed you arrive, a wide grin tugged from ear to ear. “Darling!”

You bit the inside of your cheek at the nickname. The tall male reached in and kissed both her cheeks softly before relaxing back onto the black booth.

“I haven’t heard from you since that massive robbery. Have you been purposely avoiding me?” Pillowy lips jutted into a pout.

“I have to keep my peoples’ funds in check. You tend to ask for a high price even in casual visits.”

Seokjin chuckled, the warm lights casting an eerie shadow on his eyes. Black orbs of a demon. “I’m a bit of a workaholic.” He shrugged. “So what did you need tonight on such short notice?”

You waved your hand for a drink. “Someone is trying to create havoc with two gang leaders and a restaurant chain owner.”

“Ah yes, the robbed auction. The underground newsletters were brimming.” Seokjin failed to hide the excitement flooding through his veins as his face turned smug. “So much anger. Two dreadful murders already.” He looked at his nails with a forced saddened expression. “So gory, your people.”

“Well—” Your eyes flickered up to the waitress who gave you a cup of earl grey tea.

“On the house, ma’am.” The waitress grinned before turning on her heel.

“So terribly famous.” Seokjin smirked.

“My suspicions are on Mal Pa. I had a theory since the leader used to be in a street gang. There’s a lot of whispers that they have some kind of vendetta to all gangs. It’s a good place to start without getting traced.” You didn’t want to voice those rumors to Yoongi or Namjoon since it had no basis yet. But with the way Seokjin smiled at you knowingly, you knew that was a lead.

Thunder struck, silver bolt flickering against the blackened sky. You used the warmth of the tea to bring you some comfort even though all you really wanted was to snuggle up in bed for night. “You know something, yes?”

“So long as you understand the natures of this transaction.”

Anxiety crept at the back of your mind, like thorn vines climbing up an aged building. More thunder boomed across the skies almost making you jump. You blinked slowly and breathed deep. “I do.”

“Good,” Seokjin said. Long fingers intertwined, business stance with a ready breath. “Jeon Jungkook.”

“Jeon Jungkook?” You shook your head.

“That’s the current leader of Mal Pa. A former street goon who was apparently asking for the previous gang leaders’ aid. They refused so Jeon took it upon himself for justice. Got a bunch of people and trashed the entire place. Killed the Don along with it.” Seokjin traced the brim of his glass. “If anyone has an agenda against the Dons of this country, it’s him.”

“How do I get in contact with him?”

Seokjin laughed like you spoke the funniest joke in the world. “Sweetheart, even if you offered your body and soul to the man, he wouldn’t talk to you. He hates the higher ups.”

“I wasn’t always a higher up.” Your origins started in the streets just like Jungkook. The smell of garbage and cheap perfume lingering in the air. Hiding in the closet with earbuds while mother worked. Taking over the family business and expanding your horizon with nothing but the clothes on you back and sweat on your skin. “Is there a way I can get through to him?”

Seokjin sighed. “For a man with a supposed higher purpose, he visits this courtesan house quite regularly.” He grabbed a napkin and wrote down the name of the establishment. “If you meet him there while he’s high on opium then you might be able to gain some information.”

“Nectar Oak.” Your heart jumped up to your throat. How long had it been since you saw or heard that name before? The feeling of their silk uniform still lingered on your skin.

“I understand this is no strange place to you,” Seokjin spoke.

You swallowed the small lump in your throat. “A thing of the past.” You buried the napkin into your purse. “What’re your terms?”

“I’ve asked this of you before. Information on a gang leader requires a hefty price. You can’t delay me any longer since we found out about your father and brothers’ hideout.” That same sinister smirk tugged at his lips. “What were the true terms of your marriage with Don Min Yoongi?”

A cold flood washed over your form, welcoming unwanted twists and lurches in your stomach from the time years ago. Time when things weren’t as warm as they are now. You kept a steady face, the corner of your lips twitching just the slightest. “I was a worker at the courtesan house,” you spoke softly. “Before they pay you for customers, they train you with different workers in the house. My first real customer was Yoongi. He was very kind but distant.”

You took a deep breath. “One night he came in and he said that he was going to reserve me. I didn’t know customers could truly do that. It meant he paid for everything and I got to spend time outside of the house. Working in a place like that, you tend to gain many connections and information very easily. It allowed me to earn a place in Yoongis’ radar. He’d come to me for information and personal activities.”

Seokjin took a tiny sip of his sherry, eyes fixated on you like the excitement would stop if he blinked.

Sadness loomed over your face. “I got pregnant. I told him as soon as he arrived to the house.” You sucked in your bottom lip. “He looked so happy…but—then he never came back again. For seven months, I never saw him. I already prepared to have the baby on my own until one morning, he came back. I learned that Gae Pa was going through a power struggle. When Min Areum murdered the Don, there was chaos. Questions on whether Yoongi deserved to have power—but then my pregnancy created all the more chaos.”

“He came to me and told me that he needed help.” You smiled a little to yourself. “He knew I had people I could talk to help with the associates trying to harass Yoongi. But I had to be part of the family. So he married me. We signed a legal agreement and I took down all the associates who dared to threaten Gae Pas’ true heir.”

“So the most popular couple in the underworld—” Seokjin rested back on the booth. “—is a marriage run on business and convenience. Not love.”

“I didn’t say there wasn’t any love.”

Seokjin hummed with a slight smile. “I’m sure there is.”

You suppressed the need to roll your eyes as you stood up from the booth. “Pleasure doing business with you, Kim.”

“Be sure to give Yoongi my love!”

***

“No, no, no. Absolutely fucking not. Not a chance.” Yoongi kept blabbering as the news finally reached the room. He curled up the sleeves of his white shirt, roughly raking through his hair. He turned and took a deep breath. Trying to protest more before turning away again in light stammers. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“You’re not killing anyone.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

The maids were ordered to work on the bedroom quarters while the living room reserved for their little argument. Yoongi clasped onto his hips, shaking his head. “We’re risking too much, baby. I don’t think it’s worth it. Even my mother would slap me in the head if she saw this.”

“It’s not just about the gun anymore.” You padded closer to him, rubbing his arm. “There’s a high chance he’s gonna try something else. Something worse than a robbery. It’s already happening, there’s been two murders. We can’t wait for that to happen to us.”

Yoongi let out a deep sigh, nerves still aching from the tightness but at least information was registering in his head again. You were right. Jungkook could have Namjoon or Jimin assassinated in an instant. The underworld will be able to trace Gae Pa down immediately. Right now, he was playing but it could very well get serious and bite them back in the ass for ignoring it. “I just hate that you have to go back there again. Wearing those same clothes.” He swallowed down thickly. “You’ve done so much to get me out of problems and now it’s almost back to square one.”

You reached in and kissed the back of his neck. “It’s not gonna be like last time. We’re stronger now. And this is my home as much as it is yours.”

“I know—”

“So I’m going to protect it no matter what. Okay?” You moved so you stood in front him, nose nudging against his. “We’ll protect it together.”

Yoongi smiled, cupping your cheeks and kissing you on the forehead. “What did you ask you for?” A part of him didn’t wish to know. The fear of personal information in the slimy hands of that weasel made his insides lurch but he knew the weight would lifted off of you.

“Our terms of marriage.” You smiled sadly. “How it actually happened.”

“Did he ask about the baby?”

“Actually no—he seemed pretty satisfied with the story itself.” Or Seokjin figured on what might’ve happened if their child wasn’t public nor were there any rumors of a Gae Pa heir.

“We’re not talking to him ever again.”

“So long as we don’t get into trouble.” You chuckled under your breath. Even entertaining the idea of a trouble free life was too idealistic.

“Then we’re never getting rid of him.” Yoongi sighed.

Fear still lingered, twisting his stomach in knots at the events to come but his mind knew better. You were both stronger than the time Yoongi was taking the chair as Don. This was a small bump in the road. Nothing more.

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#yoongi #thebtswritersclub #yoongi imagines #bts imagines #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi angst #bts angst #yoongi mafia au #bts mafia au

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professorbcampbell · 3 years

Text

Seeds of Change || Solo

Timing: March 28th, 2021

Location: The Common

Tagging: @professorbcampbell

Description: Ben decides to see what the Spring Festival has to offer beyond the garden variety flowers and hedges. He finds something rather unique.

When Ben had first caught sight of the spring festival during his run-in—he smirked to himself at that little joke—with Irene, he had initially brushed it off as nothing more than something his mother would probably enjoy. Prize rose judging, people attempting to chop down bushes and call it art, that sort of silly thing. But, he’d chosen to venture deeper into the depths of the festival on the weekend. He couldn’t remember the last time they had a spring festival of this… botanical in nature. And he had an impeccable memory. Ben had always made a point of being involved in the periphery of as many social gatherings and events as he could, keeping an eye out for whatever wandering soul might happen upon him.

Hands stuck in the pockets of his neatly pressed trousers, Ben meandered through the stalls. Tulips, gardenias, orchids—there was no rhyme or reason to the types of flowers that were sprouting up from the stalls. But, he wasn’t looking for flowers.

No, he was interested in something… worthy of his Lord. His monthly ritual was fast approaching and it had been quite some time since he’d gifted his Lord with something beyond the usual offerings of blood and bone. Strolling along the grass, Ben spotted a man smoking away at a pipe—a disgusting habit—at a stand with some rather… unusual wares. The stall was shrouded in dark cloth hangings, with chests tucked away in the back. Meanwhile, the front of the stand was lined with sturdy, barred wooden boxes that held… watermelons? Normally, such a stand wouldn’t have interested him at all, but there was something drawing him in, something seemed to be pulling him towards it.

As he made his way towards the stall, he stared first at the strange fruit on display. All of them seemed to be rustling with an energy Ben was most familiar with. Intent. Dark intent. Looking down at the boxes, Ben noticed there was a strange gap in the watermelon rind, as though they’d already been sliced into. But, as he peered closer, he could see the ruby red flesh was darkened with a glossy sheen that Ben had seen so many times before. Blood.

“Interesting product you have there.” He said to the man, offering a smile. “Do you sell other items?”

The man regarded him for a moment, puffs of smoke coming from his mouth as he stared at Ben from behind bored, dark eyes. “Nothing you’d be interested in.” The man said gruffly. “I don’t think you’d even want one of these. They’re a bit more trouble than they’re worth. Well. They are for some.”

Irritation bubbled in Ben at the implication, but he let out a laugh, “Ah, appearances can be deceiving. I’m more than familiar with things like this.”

“You’re in over your head. Go look at some tulips, pretty boy. Get some flowers for your lady.” The man said, grasping the end of his pipe to point the stem dismissively at Ben. As he did so, Ben could see a hint of silver flashing between his teeth—oh, how very interesting. He was familiar with the stories, had spent so many hours listening to his parents and his grandparents, passing along the stories that their parents and grandparents had told about the creatures that lived in this town. He had heard about the men with silver tongues, with smoke billowing from their noses. Never seen one, not as far as he could tell. But here was one, right in front of him.

Ben knew he had to make the right impression.

With a rueful shake of his head, Ben glanced down at the strange watermelons again. “I’d really love to get a better look at these.” He said and his fingers went for the wooden clasps of the box. The man behind the stand let out a strangled swear and reached out to slap his hands away. Immediately, Ben grasped the man’s hand tightly in his own. The man tried to squirm away, but the moment he did, Ben could feel the ancient signet ring he wore on his left-hand press against the vendor’s flesh. It was an old heirloom, passed from father to son for generations, and he had always worn it with pride. The dark, heavy metal was worn and looked distinctly shabby in comparison to the well-kept suits he favored, but it was a piece of Campbell tradition. A piece of history and ancient power. A gift, granted to them directly by an acolyte of their Lord, hundreds of years ago.

And that power, it was with him today. The smell of charring flesh filled the air between them as the man tried to wrench his hand free, but Ben’s hands were a vice grip around him. He could feel the man’s skin sizzling against him, knew that a deep, burning “C” was being branded into his palm. Leaning forward, Ben held the man’s gaze and said in a pleasant, warm voice. “Now. Vampiric watermelons are a bit banal, don’t you think? I’m looking for something unique,” a worthy offering to his Lord, something that he could gift him at the coming ritual, “Something worthy of a higher power. What can you offer me?”

The man let out a halting, stuttering, “L-Lots. Lots to offer. Just—just let me go.” He pleaded. Ben tilted his head with a growing smile, not releasing the man’s hand.

“Oh? But I thought I was in over my head,” He squeezed tighter, driving the ring deeper into the burning flesh. Blood was beginning to drip through their interlocked hands, sizzling as it made contact with the metal around his finger. “I thought I was just a pretty boy. You’d really give something like that to me?”

“Yes.” The man choked out as Ben gripped his hand. He could feel the center of the ring begin to burn and sear its way towards the bone of his hand. “Yes, anything, anything you want. Just let me go, let me go!”

Triumphant, Ben released the man’s hand and pulled back to look at the stand with a thoughtful expression. Meanwhile, the vendor was swearing, tears running down his face as he wrapped his charred and bleeding hand in the hem of his shirt. Ben paid no mind, eyes too busy greedily taking in the items before him. Boxes filled with unknown contents, bottles with strange, glowing liquids, bones strung up into mysterious charms, feathers with a luster he’d never seen before—so much to choose from. So much, too much.

“You know,” Ben said, voice light and conversational, “I’d hardly call myself an expert on things of this nature. I’m sure you’d agree. No, you sir, are far wiser than I.” He said with a toothy smile before leaning forward, the blood slicked surface of his ring glinting in the light. The man recoiled visibly, backing away into one of the stacked boxes kept behind him.

“I want your most valuable item.” Ben said. The vendor’s face paled and, for a moment, he looked as though he wanted to protest. But, even as the thought crossed his face, Ben watched with interest as the man doubled over, as though stricken by a wave of pain. Was it because of the power of the ring? Was it compelling him to obedience? Or was it something else? Ben didn’t know, but he watched with growing fascination as the man jerkily turned around.

His movements were stiff and halting as he pulled a strange, curving key that seemed to be made of… woven twigs? No, Ben realized as the man fumbled to push it into the latch of a dark, oaken chest. It was a single piece of wood that had been grown into the shape of a skeleton key, dark green leaves sprouting from the handle.

With some difficulty, the man extricated a small velvet pouch from the box and tossed it across the stand at Ben. He caught it easily, undoing the draw strings with growing curiosity. What could be in it? Some kind of magical elixir? An ancient treasure, with incredible power? He emptied the contents into the palm of his hand and blinked. Seeds. Three plain, dusty looking seeds sat in his hand.

“This? This is the best you have?” He said in disbelief, shaking his head as he dropped the seeds back into the bag. He tucked the little pouch into the pocket of his jacket, resting above his heart. The man stared at him with spiteful eyes.

“Get away from me and away from my stall.” The man spat, “I’ve done as I said, and you’ll not get another word out of me.”

With a self-satisfied shrug, Ben wiped his bloody hand clean on the cloth banner of the stand before backing away. He wasn’t sure what he’d been given, but if that… creature considered it his most valuable possession, it would be more than satisfactory to gift to Lord Hrvsht’ooooor. Ben could see it now—he could see himself dressed in his robes, the scent of fresh blood in the crisp midnight air, surrounded by the others of his order. He could picture himself, drinking deeply from the dark chalice that sat at their altar, presenting his humble offerings to his Lord. And his Lord, He would be pleased. He would know of the power of these seeds, know that his servant had proved himself.

He would reward him, finally grant Ben everything he’d ever wanted—

A stumbling man careened into Ben, wrenching him from his pleasant daydream. The man—at least a foot shorter than him—did his best to right himself, grasping onto Ben’s suit with a filthy, dirt covered hand.

“Sorry, sorry.” The man giggled, steadying himself before offering an almost drunken head bobble.

“Get off me,” Ben said with disgust, yanking his arm away from the man’s grasp. He’d already lost his suits to horned rats, he was not interested in having another one ruined by filth. “Get out of here.”

“Already gone!” The man sang as he darted away, stumbling into the crowd of people.

With an irritated frown, Ben made his way through the Common towards the parking lot. He’d had rather enough of this little festival. It was high time he returned home and prepare for the coming ritual. He had an offering to prepare, invitations to send out, he needed to get wine—probably a cheese platter for the celebration after. As he mulled over these details, his hands went to the pocket of his jacket for his car keys. His fingers closed around his key ring but…

Swearing, Ben patted his jacket furiously. It was all in vain, the pouch had disappeared. It was nowhere to be found. The seeds, that were rightfully his, they had been stolen. It must have been that disgusting little man, the one who’d fallen into him. How had he not noticed? How had he not felt it? How could he have just let them be taken like that?

As Ben continued to search his pockets with increasing desperation, a sinking feeling of realization filled the pit of his stomach. Of course. Of course.

The man had stolen his wallet, too.

#p: soc #solo #wickedswriting

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werewolfdays · 3 years

Note

Touch prompt 1 and 24 ???🥺🥺👉👈

here, have some Christmas time fluff!!!

1. With love:

I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when I felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around my torso. Nadya leaned heavily into me, resting her head on the back of my shoulder, and I knew without asking that she was still mostly asleep. I was kind of surprised she was awake at all right now. Even planned to let her sleep in for as long as she liked today.

I chuckled and spit out some toothpaste into the bathroom sink, “Didn’t think I would see you up and around for at least another few hours.”

“It’s Christmas.” She mumbled drowsily, “I always get up early for Christmas.”

“That’s good to know.” I mused and continued to brush my teeth while Nadya used my body to keep herself upright.

Her hands worked their way under my sweater and the heat of my skin made her melt into me further. If she wasn’t careful, Nadya would become a puddle against me, but she kept herself busy with tracing some of the scars across my abdomen. Each gentle touch laced with her silent love. She hummed calmly, pressing her forehead to the back of my neck. I had to admit that her presence was drawing me in even more after each passing heartbeat. It was getting increasingly harder to remember what I was doing.

“You’re so warm.” She murmured, swaying gently with me.

“So are you.” I said after I finished up and put my toothbrush aside.

I carefully twisted myself around in her arms so I could face her. Nadya’s perfect brown eyes met mine and I wanted nothing more than to drown in them. She continued to lean against me, her hands wandering up and down my back and sides in lazy caresses. Unable to hold back from touching her too, I reached up to brush some of her messy hair behind her ear and rest my palm against her cheek. I saw, as well as felt, her face flush and she tilted her head into my touch while she looked at me adoringly.

“Not as warm as you.”

“There’s more than one way to be warm, my love.”

We both leaned in at the same time, our lips meeting each other halfway. There wasn’t anything particularly deep about the way we were kissing right now, in fact, our cadence was more reserved than anything else, but the depth of passion I could always feel from her took me off guard every time. Our strokes were as soft as she was, as warm as our skin on skin contact underneath my sweater. Even if I was able to kiss her like this forever, it wouldn’t be enough. Nadya’s arms wrapping around me tighter made me think she felt the same way.

When we inevitably broke away from each other, I rested my lips on the spot between her eyebrows, holding her to me for just a few moments longer. I felt her breathless sigh against my neck and wondered how I ever went without loving her as much as I do.

No part of me wanted to, but I pulled away, “You want to go have some coffee by the fire in the Den?”

She nodded, her arms slowly disentangling from me, but not fully breaking contact yet. “Can I have this?” She asked while tugging at the bottom of my sweater.

I gave her an amused eye roll and nodded with a crooked grin, “Go on, take it.”

Nadya happily pulled the cozy sweater over my head and put it on with a grin that I never would have been able to refuse. After a grateful peck, she switched places with me at the sink and I went to retrieve something new to wear from the closet.

The Lodge itself was at its most barren during the holidays as the least desperate wolves tried to be with their own packs, but there were still some permanent residents lingering around the cozy corners of the Den with what little companionship they had. Fresh blankets of snow outside, with frost clinging to the edges of the tall windows, and a big Christmas tree standing next to the fireplace gave the common space that special festive feeling. Nadya lit up when she saw it, which made me smile.

Skye perked up from her spot on one of the couches when we approached, “Ugh, finally!”

I watched her jump to her feet and practically skip over to the Christmas tree while Nadya and I got comfortable on our usual couch. Toby brought us fresh cups of coffee and Skye handed out gifts like an excited kid. A huge part of me was glad to see that she still had the same amount of excitement for the holiday as she did when we were little.

Skye was immediately drawn to the fancy origami paper Nadya got for her and it didn’t take her long to start going wild with it on the coffee table. Soon it was like a mini paper zoo had taken over the table. All sorts of intricately folded animals surrounding her busy hands.

Nadya, on the other hand, was already several pages deep into a novel Toby had gifted her, one that they had talked about a couple weeks earlier. She was lying comfortably against me on the couch, her back resting on my chest, sitting in between my legs. I tried to track the words over her shoulder, but she read too fast for me. Still, I enjoyed her closeness more than anything, though I did eye the campfire cookbook she got for me. Ideas were already brewing in my brain for our next camping trip.

Toby went straight for the bar when he saw he had some new fancy equipment to work with when making drinks. It was kind of funny to see him handing out cocktails to anyone that would take them this early in the morning. He only took a break to serve us some tamales his family made and delivered to him as a Christmas gift. Another year had gone by and I still couldn’t get the family recipe from his mother, though I refused to give up trying my own spin on the dish with Toby’s help.

This was starting to be one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had. Definitely the best one I’ve had since before my parents died. I honestly didn’t think I would ever be able to achieve the kind of peace the holiday used to give me again, but having the love of my life happily in my arms, and my pack content, was more than I could have dreamed of.

My eyes did keep traveling to the last little gift hidden under the tree, wondering if Nadya would eventually notice it. It was small and thin enough to be missed by Skye and her enthusiasm for presents, so I knew that Nadya, being as engrossed in her book as she was, probably wouldn’t realize it was there any time soon.

I pressed a kiss to the side of her head to get her attention, “What’s that?” I asked into her hair while pointing to where the tiny present was waiting.

Nadya followed the line of my finger until she finally saw it. Then she glanced back at me over her shoulder, “Is that for me?”

“Mhm.” I confirmed.

She hesitated, chewing on her lip as she eyed the gift. I was wondering what she was contemplating when she spoke to my sister, who was the closest to the tree, “Skye?”

“What?” Skye asked, slowly looking up from her work. She turned to where Nadya was pointing and we both realized that Nadya was just too comfortable to get up for her present. I smirked when Skye’s shoulders slumped as she returned her exasperated gaze to my girlfriend, “Seriously?”

“Please?”

I fixed my little sister with a swift glare when her eyes met mine, urging her to do as Nadya requested. She sighed and stood up to retrieve what Nadya wanted before happily returning to her origami.

Nadya thanked her and examined the skinny box in her hands that was wrapped in festive paper with a neatly tied bow. I must have wrapped the damn thing half a dozen times to get it to look right. After she took a moment to admire the work I put into it, she carefully unwrapped the gift. Once the sleek box was free of the paper, she flipped it open to reveal the necklace inside.

A small gasp left her lips as she held the chain up to get a better look at the pendant. The casted seal stamp glimmered in the firelight as it lightly swung in the air back and forth. The design had a small wolf standing atop a mountain and howling at the moon, and a small banner curved at the top, showcasing a Latin phrase in letters barely big enough to read.

The pendant came to rest in her palm and I cradled her hand in mine, brushing my thumb over the words, “‘I Struggle and Emerge.’” I translated quietly, letting my thumb explore the rest of her palm, “This is a symbol of strength.”

“It’s beautiful.” Nadya marveled.

“I told you I would get you a necklace that wouldn’t burn me.”

“You did.” She said with amusement while thumbing the pendant like I had. Then she placed it in my hand, “Will you put it on me?”

I smiled and accepted the pendant, using my other hand to brush her hair out of the way. My arms came around her and then I brought the separated clasps together at the back of her neck, hooking them and letting my hands come to rest on her shoulders. Nadya looked down at the necklace resting on her chest and took a moment to hold it like it was her most prized possession. My heart sang even more when she looked back at me again in gratitude.

“Thank you, Jay.” She told me softly.

I let the back of my finger brush her cheek, knowing that there’s no way a single touch or a single gift could ever convey how much I loved her, but I hoped she could sense it anyway, “Merry Christmas, Nadya.”

“Merry Christmas.” She replied, resting back against me once more when I pressed a kiss to her temple.

24. To say hello:

My boots crunched into the fresh snow as it flurried all around me before coming to rest on the ground, culminating in mounds of pure white powder. All of the pines in sight looked like they had been dusted with sugar and my breath came out in visible puffs before me. There was something so magical about a forest during the winter time, something that even the biting cold couldn’t make me hate.

I paused too many times to count to take dozens of photographs with all of the new film I received yesterday for Christmas. This was such a peaceful and perfect day. All I missed was Jayde, but she had to go back to her patrol duties today, no matter how hard I tried to convince her to take another day off with me. I would see her later though and that was enough for me. Plus, I wouldn’t bore her by dragging her around to take all of these pictures.

A particularly cold breeze made me shiver. I adjusted the beanie on my head and wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck in an effort to conserve some body heat. While I was doing that, I heard a snap of a twig somewhere off to my right. My steps faltered as I listened for more, but the forest fell quiet, so my eyes searched for any movement that I couldn’t hear. There didn’t seem to be anything, even with me staring off into the misted woods for several long moments.

Unsure whether or not I should be nervous, I continued onwards. It was probably only a deer or some small critter. Other werewolves usually stayed far away from me when they were in their wolf forms, not wanting to make me feel unsafe or face Jayde’s over protectiveness. Of course, that didn’t mean I would never accidentally come across someone’s path eventually. I kept my eyes and ears peeled just in case.

My peaceful surroundings consumed me again, so many beautiful sights ranging from minute details on the side of the trail to grand landscape scenes that broke through some of the trees, showing miles and miles of snow-covered mountains. It made me think of the present Jayde gave me yesterday. I reached for the necklace, smiling when my fingers found it peeking through my scarf. The freezing air made the metal pendant cold to the touch, but I didn’t mind. I just wanted to be reminded of the best gift I’ve ever received.

Another rustle in the woods behind me made my head snap around. This time, I was positive that whatever or whoever it was had to know I was here, and they weren’t trying to avoid me. I backed away from the sound, trying not to be alarmed by the presence.

“I can hear you.” I called out, “Do you need something?”

There wasn’t an answer. And there wasn’t any movement out there.

I continued to back up while I searched my surroundings for any sign of someone. Just as I was starting to get uneasy, the back of my legs connected with something large and soft. I hopped forward with a startled yelp and flipped myself around to see Jayde in her wolf form standing there with her tail wagging and her tongue lolling out in a wolfish grin. She had been messing with me the whole time.

“Are you serious?” I yelled at her through a laugh.

Jayde sat on her haunches, looking proud of herself. The color of her fur blended so perfectly with the snow around her that she probably didn’t even have to try all that hard to be stealthy. There’s no way I would have been able to spot her from a distance.

“You scared me, you know.”

She gave me a teasing bark and leapt towards me. Her massive wolf body playfully tackled mine into the built up powder on the ground. I started laughing while her snout poked me in all of my ticklish spots, trying to wrestle her head away. A growl rumbled in her chest when I grabbed her muzzle and clamped it shut with my hands.

“What are you gonna do now?” I challenged.

I held on tighter when she tried to shake me off, forcing her to use one of her giant paws to pry my hands off of her. I took advantage of the fact that she had to be gentle with me, shrugging her claws away from my arms. Knowing that she was at a disadvantage, Jayde growled even more menacingly in my face, but I wasn’t deterred in the slightest. I simply raised one of my eyebrows and placed a quick kiss to her forehead. That shut her up fast.

Once she shook it off, she snorted indignantly and plopped herself down right on top of me, effectively pinning me to the ground and further into the pile of freezing snow. It reminded me of the way large dogs sometimes don’t understand that they aren’t lap dogs. I lied there groaning for a few seconds before her weight was too much.

“Alright, alright. Truce?” I suggested in a strained voice.

Jayde gave a single nod and stood up at the same time I released her muzzle. I sat up and shook my head at her with an exasperated grin. She stared right back at me with glowing amber eyes, her tail still wagging, and waited.

“Well, hello.” I giggled and held my arms out.

The white wolf immediately fell into my embrace, nuzzling against my head and knocking my beanie askew. I ran my hands through her fur, enjoying the softness and the insulated warmth of her wolf form. She was definitely built for this kind of weather. It made me want to find a spot and curl up with her because I could feel the melting snow begin to soak into my clothes. I shivered again, my teeth chattering, and pulled her closer, which resulted in a concerned grumble from her.

“Maybe we should head home soon. I think I’m in the mood for a hot bath.” I said.

Jayde leaned back to cock her head curiously at me. Then she stood up and gently bit my sleeve to pull me to my feet. I laughed at her sudden enthusiasm and gladly started to follow her back to the Lodge where we could get nice and cozy together for the rest of the day.

#asks #anon #ocs #my ocs #My writing #thanks for sending these in!!! and sorry it took forever for me to answer!#hope yall enjoy their first christmas together #Jayde #Nadya #Jayde pov #Nadya pov

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bulletballetarchive1 · 3 years

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💍 Rings 💍

SO, this started off as something I wrote in third person. Then, because I was showing it to English Professors I rewrote it in 1st person. Which was my first time writing anything in this narrative. The only other thing I want to point out is that rather than New York, I placed The Littlejohn Family in the Midwest because I hoped the locality would better resonate with the audience. And with that said here we go!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . I have found that with my increasing age, those around me expect me to be a walking contradiction. Of course, they would never say this out loud, but I have watched as young women wait with bated breath anticipating for words of wisdom to emerge from my lips. I have also watched as some of these very same women then expressed surprise - astonishment even, that I am capable of recalling years long behind me.

The ability to recall my days spent within the walls of Julienne have brought on many gazes of wonder. But nothing brings forth an abundance of questions more than the fact that I can recall my grandfather with the same clarity.

Even as I keep to myself, the sight of menthol cigarettes neatly packaged and placed atop shelves reminds me of billowing smoke drifting through his dining room. A place I spent much of my childhood studying in.

Then, there are times when my heart swells with warmth when I see men like my husband conceal his silver locks with a flat, rounded cap. Unless Granddaddy was working in the barbershop or, if he was within the sanctity of his own home, a hat would always stay perched on his head. Yes, it was his trademark.

But, even among the woolen flat caps, the menthols, and the strong Southern twang revealing his Alabama roots, one of the things that I will always closely associate with my grandfather would be his rings. Grandaddy possessed so many rings, but I was not given permission to do anything except look on. Once, great admiration had been tied to my yearnful gazes. However when Ms. Bedel moved in, my days of secretly caressing thick, metallic gold ended. Like granddaddy, she too, is a person I will never forget.

In our early days together, my grandfather’s lover told me that she was not my mother and in that very same breath, her eyes narrowed as she further asserted she would never be my mother. Despite this, she fulfilled the needs my seven year old counterpart required when it came to maternal care.

Ms. Bedel, in my eyes, was a woman who was never truly appreciated by those around her. I know that she certainly wouldn't have been by today’s standards, either. Because even in my time as a child in 1961, there were whispers of how she was too strict. Too reflective of the period that cultivated her.

Her full name was “Lucille Tallulah Masters-Bedel.” At the time, I did not know how a person could have two last names, but later I would find that ‘Bedel’ came from her deceased husband. This was not necessary for me to know at the age of seven.

During my adolescence, a child was to stay in a child’s place: seen, not heard. Boundaries that children manage to cross today were intolerable in my time.

Being the ever obedient child I was, I never thought of doing anything other than what I was told. Appreciation factored into my blind ignorance and how could it not? Ms. Bedel was the one who bathed me at the end of each day. De-tangled my hair. Ensured I clasped my hands together and told God of my utmost gratitude each night. But even with this said, I have no doubt in my mind that each day I spent with Ms. Bedel, the more she came to love me.

My belief would be silently proven in how she provided me with the loveliest dresses. She made sure Granddaddy would use his hard-earned money so that I remained a well-groomed girl, decent for both neighbors and distant cousins to lay their eyes upon if they happened to see me run errands. I can even remember believing Ms. Bedel once purchased me the dress of my dreams.

It was all white with a delicately laced-collar. Lilac flowers in bloom decorated the fabric gorgeously. With my anklet socks and patent leather shoes, the pious women of the community would coo over me, sweetening my self-image by calling me names such as baby doll.

There came a point in which I had the honor of being among Ms. Bedel’s jewelry. That evening I was almost trembling in her lap. Watching intently as Ms. Bedel clutched onto a small key and inserted it into the jewelry box slot I could feel my heart pounding. With a turn the box was open and treasures were revealed right before my eyes.

As I had mentioned, I was an obedient child. If someone said, “don’t do that,” I would not engage in whatever was before me. If somebody said, “don’t speak,” I would never open my mouth. So being given permission to trace rings and necklaces and earrings with my little fingertips filled me with the utmost delight.

While basking in this privilege, I realized there existed differences between a man’s ring and a woman’s.

Granddaddy’s rings were thick accessories of solid colors, more often than not the dimmest shades of silver and gold. It was almost as if they were old decorations that lost what could once make them shine. There were a few bumps and prongs, but frankly, there is nothing else I can say that compares them to the mesmerizing jewels in Ms. Bedel’s prized jewelry box.

“Where do these come from?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Child, everything you see before you has a story.” I thought I would learn about the source of the beautiful little rocks in Ms. Bedel’s necklace, or where on earth the little diamonds in her rings came from. I was too ignorant to recognize the wistfulness that hung in my elder’s voice. “During the Harlem Renaissance, I held a man named Aliki Eliopoulos in the palm of my hand. He was bronze, Greek, and we thought we could make it through the odds.” The brief huff that blew from Ms. Bedel’s nostrils was strong: “one night, he found me after the curtains closed and he presented this. This necklace is dear to me…I suppose because I never quite knew where Aliki went.” Pointing out another piece of jewelry was not needed as Ms. Bedel rose whatever called to her the most.

“This engagement ring - not a wedding ring - engagement, was given to me by my first husband. To accept it would mean I would make a vow for him. He knew of my past, and knew that even if I couldn’t right my wrongs, I could try to start over with his name.”

Again, she expanded her chest with her second mighty huff. During that moment I wondered, how can this woman seem so disillusioned yet keep each belonging? Belongings that provide her with such unpleasant memories? Where does the hatred end and the sentiment begin?

“True love is a concept,” Ms. Bedel said, the resentment never leaving her tongue. “The idea of that sort of thing existing is new, too. People don’t realize that...but Delores.”

“Ma’am?” I replied. For no particular reason, I was stricken with fear in how she said my name. All I had known was that she said it with such sharpness that surely my own faults were on the verge of being mentioned - whatever those faults may have been.

“Do not follow in my footsteps.”

I believe Ms. Bedel was sixty-six at this time. The same age I am now. Ironically

enough, I feel I can understand her without even having the full pieces of her story. My grandfather was a lover of women who were respectable and clean. Women who would not taint his image by being well-known throughout the city for scandalous tales.

I will never say that Ms. Bedel was not a woman who presented herself with high caliber. She sang opera long before becoming involved with my grandfather. She possessed clothes in her closet that continued bearing their tags. Perhaps it was loneliness that brought my grandfather to her, but that I do not know for certain. All I know is that at the end of the day, Granddaddy felt Ms. Bedel would be the most appropriate woman to guide me through my adolescence.

Still, to think back on the many statements - the way her eyes fixed on me, lets me know she was not a pinnacle of virtuous deeds throughout her life.

However, at that particular moment as a child, all I knew was that I disliked the heavy silence her statement brought. It became my intention to steer away from talk of vows and purity so as I refocused on the piled riches, I noticed an emerald glistening among gold and rubies. The longer I stared into it, the more I noticed that it had lighter streaks. Appearing and disappearing depending on my movement. It was like thunder and lightning had been coursing within it. “Ms. Bedel...where did that ring come from?” I asked. “This -” she lifted it, studied it. “This belonged to my mother.” “Did her husband give it to her, too?”

“My mother was never married.” With that unpleasant remark came another pause that I felt lasted forever. When Ms. Bedel spoke again: it was clear and amazingly without strain, “she hailed from a place in the South that was so unimportant that it can’t even be defined by a name.” She paused, asking me: “Do you know what slave labor is?”

Even in my discomfort, I nodded. “What is it then?” Ms. Bedel did not believe I had a wealth of knowledge. I knew it just from the strength of her gaze. Timid, my fingers slid against the hardwood of her dresser. Not knowing any better, I began recalling how at the age of five Granddaddy decided it was time I learn how Africans - not even colored people, but Africans - were chained like dogs and brought to America. After that, they were bound to pick cotton all day under the sun. That was slave labor, my young mind decided.

“What Africans had to do...” I answered, just barely connecting my gaze with her own. “No.” My idea was correct, but wrong. “My mother may not have been picking cotton, but she did live under those horrid conditions. After I was born, my mother bundled me up and took me with her as she journeyed North. Of course, being a colored woman, she didn’t have the luxury of driving or possessing a fortune to get her there in an instant. She worked as a maid here and there until she reached New York...and there was one woman before that.” She paused, “We were in Kentucky…” Ms. Bedel refrained from speaking yet again, hissing: “I hate Kentucky...and I will never forget that woman as long as I live...she,” Ms. Bedel’s lips were curling, “she was downright nasty. “That woman sat so high on her horse, that she had my mother feeding her baby through her teat.” My face was surely pulling in disgust. I did not understand what was said just the right amount to be puzzled, but I understood enough to be both bewildered and uncomfortable. “From time to time, my mother would take little things from her house. Sugar, flour. Things that wouldn’t be missed. But before we left Kentucky and never looked back, my mother thought she deserved something more in return, and this ring was it. And after my mother passed on, this has been with me ever since…” Suddenly Ms. Bedel took on a soft and tender tone, it was as if she placed her past behind her. “Try it on.” Not only was I soothed by a far more preferable tone, but I was also elated. Yes, it felt as though I was ascending to new heights. My high emotions would soon leave as the ring was placed on my finger, limp. “Oh…” Ms. Bedel’s lips pushed out, sympathetic. “It’s too big for you…” “My fingers are too little…” I felt like I was an infant, helpless and insignificant. “Maybe.” Ms. Bedel took my hand into her own, covering it in love. “One day you’ll grow into it.” It was not shortly after this, but in gradual due time that when preparing me for an outing, Ms. Bedel would retrieve one of the necklaces from her sacred box and fasten it around my neck. In some cases, it was to enhance my church dress, or to simply show I was a colored girl of high esteem as she and I walked to a show downtown. Each time this was to occur Granddaddy would part his lips, sneering that Ms. Bedel was making me into a ‘fast’ girl. Originally, his disdain was ignorable. As the sole man in the house, if Ms. Bedel disagreed - and I, as a result, found a voice to also disagree: I could exit the house, beautiful.

Unfortunately, the days of the feminine rule Ms. Bedel and I shared left when cousin

Winston moved in. Although Winston and Granddaddy were separated by generations, their “masculinity” gave them a higher sort of power. If Granddaddy thought I was fast and if Winston thought I was fast, then it was so. From that point on, shiny gems would never again be around my neck.

I did not like this change. Prior to my aunt placing Winston in Granddaddy’s custody, I would receive comments from adults of how “lonesome” I must have been as an only child. I never thought I could be lonely, not when I had Granddaddy and Ms. Bedel’s company. In addition, I was also quite aware of the luck I possessed, because never did there come a time when I argued about what belonged to who. While the alterations that occurred in my childhood home were minimal at best with Winston’s arrival, they were quite jarring all the same. Breakfast was smaller, lunch and dinner too. I also had to be tolerant - patient - when Winston sat by my side, giving his own outlandish variations to the personalities of my beloved dolls. His rough housing even led to the tearing of Marilyn! And even though tears fell on my pillow that night by sunrise, I forgave him. One of the most noticeable changes was in how Ms. Bedel began to seldom speak to me. I thought it would be wise if I did not speak to her, as I acknowledged not just her body language but the dryness of her voice. The change that occurred was not my fault. Ms. Bedel simply detested my cousin.

In her eyes however, I was different. Different in the sense that when she met my grandfather, she met me too, and therefore knew what would come if she decided to move in. Winston was unlike me, not just due to gender or behavior, but because she never agreed to provide for him. Still, I did not know this. Instead, there were many days where I wondered if I had done something to evoke her coldness, but in truth I just didn't know of the hostile conversations taking place between the adults of the household. Some of my days were better than others, but the moment I made my greatest mistake came from one of my worst. I returned home with low spirits after school. It did not matter that it was Friday as the memory of Lucinda Carter’s wrongdoing remained fresh in my heart and mind. I will admit that in my childhood I more often than not felt an intense desire to be accepted by my peers. I was well-aware I had been viewed as the perfect, ideal child by my elders, but to those in my classroom I was thought of as little more than an old woman, masquerading as a child. During the occasional moments they were willing to overlook my small, shifting eyes and unusual silence, I was filled with jubilance. With the little friends I had, I joyously followed to play Duck, Duck, Goose. With Lucinda circling us, I could feel the tension build. Each moment was thrilling. No one knew who the Goose would be, and I even speculated that it may be Thomas or Claude who would chase us around the courtyard. I did not expect Lucinda’s palm to fling into my face as she declared I was the wild goose. And what a fool I was, trying to rationalize the assault. I understood it was a part of the game. But I knew that with the way Lucinda usually treated me, it could not have been a giddy mistake. Still, I did not say anything to the teachers. Tears no longer slid down my cheeks by the time I climbed the concrete steps of my home. At that point, I began to think of the things that made me happy, and in that moment it occurred to me the last time I felt at peace was when I was among Ms. Bedel’s treasures. This is what brought me to her side, rather than confiding to my grandfather of the humiliation that occurred to me on this day. “Ms. Bedel,” I began meek and soft, “can I see your diamonds?" My first crime of that day was not realizing how Winston was among her. I was not aware Winston’s eye size doubled at the sound of diamonds. “Yes you may.” All I knew was that Ms. Bedel looked greatly unhappy that I approached her, “but put everything back as found. Do you hear me? Everything, Delores." “Yes ma’am.” And with that, I was on my way, embarking on my second sin. After retrieving the jewelry box I navigated to the private sanctuary of my bedroom, shutting the door. Any other time I would not have done this, but it felt relieving to know that I was keeping to myself. Alone. Laid out on my wooden panels, I observed every pearl, opal, and amber gem. In this solace, I could not wait until I had my own collection of jewels to possess when womanhood approached, for surely everyday would be spent in happiness. “Delores!” The sound of Ms. Bedel’s voice ripped me from my adult fantasies. Before I could rise to my feet and ask ‘ma’am?’ she opened my door, scolding me once more: “you better keep this door open, young lady. I don’t know who you think you are, secluding yourself away from the world! You are seven years old!” She did not have to curse at me as I hear some mothers do their children. She did not have to strike me as a reminder that she and my grandfather’s words were the law. I already felt the harsh sting of shame and humiliation coursing through me, and so although she did not keep watch on me with a critical gaze after ensuring I kept my door open: when she told me to put everything back, I did so - with the belief I had gathered everything. It was my fear of further disappointing her that ruined my judgment.

Saturday was fine, Sunday was as well as we attended church like a prim and proper family. It is horrible to reflect on the change that came a mere few hours after our worship.

“Ever since you took that boy in he’s been nothin’ but trouble! He wasn’t even sick on Tuesday, he was connin’ you!” This was not an argument that could be ignored. It was clear as the siren of an ambulance: both Winston and I could hear the clashing of our guardians echo through the walls. Ms. Bedel’s fury summoned Winston to crouch outside our elder’s bedroom. I was tempted to steer him away and convince him to mind his business until all was calm, but I was also taken by the enragement. “I didn’t know you was a doctor!” “I was with him that entire day!” Ms. Bedel shouted, “I could see him running and jumping and just actin’ a fool! Maybe if you weren’t trying to keep up with these young men out here-” “Woman!” I jumped at Granddaddy’s raised voice, “You don’t know a THING you talkin’ ‘bout!”

Hearing the heavy thud of Ms. Bedel’s feet, I wondered what if the door swung open and the nosiness of Winston and I would be displayed before her eyes. Surely we could never live it down.

“Look -- damn you Amos, look!” However, she did not open the door. Ms. Bedel was elsewhere in the bedroom, and I could only assume she took a stance by the dresser. “My ring is gone! I know that he took it and he sold it to some...some-”

“Some what?” Grandaddy snapped.

“Some hustler!”

My knowledge of the streets were limited, but I knew the title she used for Winston was not right. “You should have seen him - the way he was looking when Didi had mentioned I had diamonds. I could just about read his mind!”

“He’s nine years old, who does he know? If he took it, he prolly gave it to some lil’ girl!”

“Amos! Why are you defending that heathenistic-”

“Shut up!”

“No good-”

“Dammit woman, I said shut your mouth!”

“Ungodly grandson of yours!”

There came a sharp sound. The sound of skin hitting skin. It was stronger than how Lucinda hit me, that I knew.

However, this was not a new sound for Winston. In contrast to his excited face, I was cringing as if I personally witnessed Granddaddy’s powerful strike.

“You hard headed woman.” He hissed, “y’ain’t gonna keep standing here and keep callin’ my grandson outta his name. Y’got one more time t’do that and I’ma drag you outta here. Keep on talkin’ about some itty bitty ring. Keep on.”

“It was my mother’s.” “Your mama was the thief you’re makin’ my grandson out to be. Your mama wasn’t nobody.”

At that point, Winston was stretching his legs and placing his palm against the door knob. I decided that if Winston would get himself in trouble for getting into the adult’s business, so be it, but I personally would have no part in it. But the truth of the matter is, by not prying I spared myself from the sight of my grandfather - a man who was more commonly stern whilst simultaneously doting, in a state far different than what I was accustomed to. I knew he was in the wrong - he was terrifying me, just to overhear him in this private moment. But what would I do if I looked at him? Caught him in whatever dominant position he stood in? Then, I heard Ms. Bedel weep.

“I hate you.” As she continued to weep, my heart broke. “You old bastard - what makes you think that I have to be with you? I don’t have to be with you. I accepted your granddaughter, willingly, I never had to do that for you. Then you put that grandson on me, and...and I’m too damn old to be going through burdens like you! Get away from me! Go on!” Don’t go… I can recall thinking, I can recall wanting to act out: to cry and scream, but instead I was biting at my bottom lip, thinking: Don’t go. I felt shame at that point, too. Incredibly small, irrelevant. A burden. Now, I was willing to peep through the door like Winston, treated to the sight of Ms. Bedel moving faster than I had ever seen her. Apathetic and rough, she tossed the jewelry box on the bed, grasped at her coats, blouses, and furs.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” Granddaddy had the audacity to ask, as if he had not personally told her to remove herself.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?!” I did not know where the ring of Ms. Bedel’s mother had been. Truly, I thought it was in the box as it needed to be. The truth of the matter was that it was under my bed, somehow knocked there by my little feet as I spent my Friday evening admiring it all. But never would I have stolen from a woman I respected. At this moment, I did not think of my own potential mistakes, but I did think about letting my tears fall and what it would have been like if I rushed into Granddaddy’s bedroom, asking him if she could stay. “Move, move!” My surely disastrous idea never came to be as Winston grabbed my shoulders the same time Ms. Bedel’s feet came our way. Before I knew it, we were scurrying like small, brown mice to my bedroom. It was very likely Ms. Bedel saw it, but hadn’t possessed enough care to say anything.

“When y’find that damn thing,” Granddaddy followed her, not caring about our wide eyes. “You can’t never come back here. Never!”

“I don’t plan on it, Amos!”

Ms. Bedel would only return to Granddaddy in the pursuit of her fine china. Shortly afterwards, I believe she left Dayton to return to New York.

This would be the first memory that brought me pain and discomfort: something I could not dwell on because it was too harsh. At some point, my grandfather realized that the woman he loved was forever gone, because he would issue cold gazes to Winston. Asserting that if he took her ring, he should speak up. Each time, Winston claimed innocence.

As the months came and went, so did the severity of the emotional wounds of that day. Never would we forget the disaster, but we had to shoulder it and proceed on with our life. Though, one day, I would find something shiny below my bed. Like a calling, the light green streaks requested for my attention in an abyss of darkness. As I cupped it and brought it to light: that fateful day would hit me all over again.

Needless to say, as a teenager I spent many of my days wishing to turn back time. I wished that I could have considered that maybe it was I who made a mistake. Then, I would run to my bedroom, I would search up and down until I found that emerald ring and both of my guardians would enter a state of calmness. This was my fantasy. But silent, I would keep this ring. Though I would never wear it. Not even as eleven became thirteen. Or thirteen became sixteen. Or sixteen became eighteen.

Always, this ring was to be hidden. Forever my secret.

Even now, it is in my own jewelry box. And though Ms. Bedel’s mother stole it - and I in a way inherited this ring through the tradition of ‘stealing’ it, have never worn it. It has always felt taboo. Instead, what I do is keep it safe.

I am blessed to remember things as well as I do, yet precise memory can be a curse.

#long post tw #stories.#memories.

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 4 years

Text

Killing Boys - C. Hood.

Requested? Nope.

Tag list: @killerqueenishere @starshonerose

Tagged two lovely people who are kind supporters of my writing! If anybody wants to be part of the tag list let me know!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17. Based on “Killing Boys” by Halsey.

Rule number 1 of having somebody like Y/F/N in your life, is that you should never, under any circumstances even consider the idea of crossing her. Ever.

She can be the sweetest person, but she also knew how to cut people off without a second glance. And how to get her revenge.

She kept her friends close and her enemies closer.

Which is exactly how she ended up gracefully slipping through the back left second storey window of the Hood house at exactly 12:43AM on a Thursday night.

She was quiet, agile. In her youth she spent many, many days in the bedroom with the boy who was once her best friend. The layout hadn’t changed and she stood over him, quiet as a mouse.

His breathing was deep, face relaxed and mouth slightly agape as he snored softly. Even asleep, he was quiet. She adored it about him.

Growing tired of waiting for him to wake on his own, she held a hand over his mouth and tapped repeatedly on his forehead, causing him to stir and then jump when he saw the girl.

“Don’t make a sound, Calum.” His eyes were wide, not used to the serious tone of the girl, “we have a mission.”

Told me pick my battles and be pickin' 'em wise, but I wanna pick 'em all and I don't wanna decide. No more.

“What mission? Why are you here so late? Did you come through the window?” He clutched the blanket to his chest when she moved to rip it away, how voice squeaking, “No! I’m naked!”

“You’re naked?” She raised a brow. She knew for a fact that he was not naked, simply shirtless. She lived next door to him for Christ sakes, she often saw him walking past his window with his sweats low on his hips and no shirt.

“Yes?” He stated, more as a question that a fact. He looked confused, and she looked annoyed.

Thus then led to Calum positioned in the drivers seat of his mother’s Honda Civic, a black shirt covering his torso after Y/N had forcefully put it on him in a way his mum would when he was younger.

They were both quiet, the only sound occupying the space being the radio blasting 90’s throwback. Y/N sung along to every song.

So we'll sneak in the back and then we'll kick in the door.

Every so often she would stop singing along to direct him, and eventually they pulled up outside of gated community. Inside he could see houses larger than two of his out together. The street lights were bright, and there was a strong theme of pale white brick as the foundation for almost all of the twenty or so houses inside.

The gardens could be seen from outside of the gates, every lawn clipped incredibly close and evidence of professional routine gardeners was admissible.

There was no attendee at the gate, instead she made him pull up close enough so she could input a code to the after hours keypad.

“The only thing in his phone that he didn’t hide,” her smirk was devilish, and Calum felt his heart racing at the sight.

He didn’t know what the point of their trip to her boyfriends neighborhood was, but Calum relished any moment he could spend with the girl.

Even if he never had a shot with her.

She directs him to stop a few houses down from the large White House. The lawn was clipped and an Australian flag was positioned hanging from a flagpole next to the grand driveway.

The same drive way that had four expensive cars parked.

“So what are we doing here?” He asked, eyeing the houses carefully. They didn’t take too kindly to non-residents visiting the community, especially not two teenagers from the less well off neighbourhood out on a -quote- revenge plan.

“You ever keyed a Ferrari before, Calum Hood?”

She extended her hand, in it lay multiple keys of various sizes and sharpness. A smirk was still on her face but her eyes hid something.

Almost sadness.

Tell me have you ever keyed a Ferrari before? Oh no, oh I don't anymore.

The snuck towards the house, Calum’ large feet making more racket than Y/N’s smaller ones, followed by a schedule of shush sounds falling from the girls lips.

“You sure about this?” He whispered as they approached the sleek red vehicle.

Her boyfriend bragged for nearly six months after his father had spent the large sum of money to get the overpriced vehicle. The cherry red body gleaned in the low light, and he found himself stopping to admire the beauty of the automobile in front of him.

“Now or never, Hood.”

She was beaming, and a cringe pressed into his features as she stabbed the key into the paint, walking the length of the vehicle without lifting it.

“Oh my god!” He whisper-shouts, hands raising to grab at his black curls.

“Shush!” She hissed, scratching more marks into the paint job. “You gonna stand there; or are you gonna help me draw dicks on this piece of shit?”

And I'm not breaking, I won't take it and I won't ever feel this way again 'cause you don't need me anymore. And I won't ever try again and all I want in return is revenge.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. Her boyfriend was the biggest jerk in their school. He tormented everybody. He couldn’t help but want revenge as well; although he wasn’t sure why Y/N would feel the need to get revenge on her boyfriend.

They spent almost an hour scratching various pictures and words into the once pristine car.

They were in their own little world, laughing with ear other and both getting revenge for the wrongdoings caused by the boy, when the porch light flicked on.

“Shit!” Left the girls lips and her fingers laced with Calum’s.

Within seconds she was pulling him along, running side by side with him as an older man rushes out of the house. He stood, not a wrinkle in his silk pajamas, an expensive looking phone clasped in his hands and he cursed the surveillance cameras for not being functional.

A stupid move, really.

Cause I don't need you anymore. So where do you go?

She rushed to the drivers side, releasing Calum’s hand as she climbed in and sped off once he claimed the passenger seat. They were both out of breath, a smile on Y/N’s face and a nervous grin on Calum’s.

She grabbed his hand as she drove, shaking it in the air as she voiced her excitement.

His cheeks flushed at the action, but he remained still as she kept his hand in hers when the moment passed.

Pull up to the drive and I remember the codes. Yeah, the only fucking numbers you don't hide in your phone. No more, no more, anymore.

She drove them to a park near their shared street, exiting the cat and claiming a spot on one of the swings. Calum followed her, already missing the weight of her palm on his.

“So,” he tried as he took a set on the swing next to her, “wanna tell me why we just ruined your boyfriends most prized possession?”

She swung her legs softly, rocking the swing back and forth. She didn’t look up at him. Calum knew her well enough to know that she only avoided eye contact when something was wrong. She was the most confident and positive girl he knew and it hurt him to know something had happened to bring her mood down.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” there was a small smile on her face, a sad smile and Calum found himself reaching for her hand again. “Found out he has been sleeping with my best friend for a couple months.”

“Oh.”

She made a noise of agreement, laughing softly, “It’s okay, I put hair remover in her shampoo.”

He let out a loud laugh involuntarily, and she laughed along with him.

“I feel bad about it, considering we’ve been friends for so many years but she slept with my boyfriend. I think my betrayal is a little less than hers,” she swung their joined arms, looking up at the boy.

Climb up to the window and I'm breaking the glass then I stop 'cause I don't wanna Uma Thurman your ass. No more, no more, anymore.

“I should have called Michael, we could have tried to kick his ass,” he laughed, picturing the two of them getting their ass kicked by the popular boy.

“I think I have a better chance of going Uma Thurman in his ass than you two do, god bless your souls,” the smirk was back on her face and he felt at ease witnessing the light return to her eyes.

And I'm not breaking, I won't take it and I won't ever feel this way again 'cause you don't need me anymore.

“Thank you for this, Cal,” her voice was soft, her eyes boring into his flushed cheeks.

“You don’t need to thank me, Y/N. Any guy would be stupid to turn down a pretty girl asking you to go with her on a revenge mission,” he released the words before he could stop himself, only to turn to see a slight redness tinting her face.

She beamed at him, leaning across the space between the swings and kissing his cheek.

And I won't ever try again, and all I want in return is revenge, ‘cause I don't need you anymore.

“I’m sorry that asshole did that to you. He doesn’t deserve you, and neither does your ex-best friend,” he whispered again, turning his head slightly and gasping at the close proximity.

If she leaned forward a fraction of an inch, their lips would press together. Calum would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about kissing the girl he had been infatuated with for many years.

“I don’t need them, especially not her. Plus, boys are just place holders, they come and they go. Except for somebody as amazing as you. I’ll keep you around if you want to stay,” she whispered back, pressing a kiss to the corner of his cheek.

His face dropped slightly, the anticipation of her lips on his getting the better of him, but he still smiled sweetly at her confession, “I’m here for as long as you want me.”

“Dish our more sweet lines like the ‘pretty girl asking you on a revenge mission’ and you’ll get what you want,” she winked, giggling he beamed at the words falling from her lips.

When I don't need you anymore.

And I don't need you.

#5sos #calum hood #calum hood x reader #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #michael clifford #5 seconds of summer #songfic

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deloresisout · 4 years

Text

I wrote this story for a creative writing contest at my college - then shit hit the fan after the deadline [social distancing] so I don’t even know if I’ll hear back from faculty anytime soon. This was my first time writing in 1st Person (or rather converting a story into 1st person) and I was proud enough to show some people close to me in real life. So, I’m going to post this excerpt here.

I have found that with my increasing age, those around me expect me to be a walking contradiction. Of course, they would never say this out loud, but I have watched as young women wait with bated breath: anticipating for words of wisdom to emerge from my lips. I have also watched as some of these very same women then expressed surprise - astonishment even, that I am capable of recalling years long behind me.

But, even among the woolen flat caps, the menthols, and the strong Southern twang revealing his Alabama roots, one of the things that I will always closely associate with my grandfather would be his rings. Grandaddy possessed so many rings, but I was not given permission to do anything except look on. Once, great admiration had been tied to my yearnful gazes. However, when Ms. Bedel moved in, my days of secretly caressing thick, metallic gold ended. Like granddaddy, she too, is a person I will never forget.

In our early days together, Granddaddy’s rotund lover told me that she was not my mother. In that very same breath, her eyes narrowed as she further asserted she would never be my mother. Despite this, she fulfilled the needs my seven-year-old counterpart required when it came to maternal care.

Ms. Bedel, in my eyes, was a woman who was never truly appreciated by those around her. I know that she certainly wouldn't have been by today’s standards, either. Because even in my time as a wide-eyed, meek child in 1961, there were whispers of how she was too strict. Too reflective of the period that cultivated her.

During my adolescence, a child was to stay in a child’s place. Seen, not heard. Boundaries that children manage to cross today were intolerable in my time.

Being ever obedient, I never thought of doing anything other than what I was told. Appreciation factored into my blind ignorance and how could it not? Ms. Bedel was the one who bathed me at the end of each day. De-tangled my hair. Ensured I clasped my hands together and told God of my utmost gratitude each night. I have no doubt in my mind that each day I spent with Ms. Bedel, the more she came to love me.

This belief was proven in how she provided me with the loveliest dresses. She made sure Granddaddy would use his hard-earned money so that I remained a well-groomed girl, decent for both neighbors and distant cousins to lay their eyes upon if they happened to see me. I can even remember believing that Ms. Bedel once purchased me the dress of my dreams.

It was all white, its collar delicately laced. Lilac flowers in bloom decorated the fabric gorgeously. With my anklet socks and patent leather shoes, the pious women of the community would coo over me, sweetening my self-image by calling me names such as baby doll.

There even came a point in which I had the honor of being among Ms. Bedel’s jewelry, that evening I was almost trembling in her lap. Watching intently as Ms. Bedel clutched onto a small key and inserted it into the jewelry box slot, I could feel my heart pounding. With a turn the box was open, and treasures were revealed right before my eyes.

While basking in this privilege, I realized there existed differences between a man’s ring and a woman’s own.

“Where do these come from?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Child, everything you see before you has a story.” With this answer, I thought I would learn about the source of the beautiful pearls of Ms. Bedel’s necklace, or where on earth the little diamonds in her rings came from. I was too ignorant to recognize the wistfulness that hung in my elder’s voice. “During the Harlem Renaissance, I held a man named Aliki Eliopoulos in the palm of my hand. He was bronze, Greek, and we thought we could make it through the odds.” The brief huff that blew from Ms. Bedel’s nostrils was strong: “one night, he found me after the curtains closed and he presented this. This necklace is dear to me…I suppose because I never quite knew where Aliki went.” Pointing out another piece of jewelry was not needed as Ms. Bedel rose whatever called to her the most.

“This engagement ring - not a wedding ring - engagement, was given to me by my first husband. To accept it would mean I would make a vow for him. He knew of my past and knew that even if I couldn’t right my wrongs, I could try to start over with his name.”

Again, she expanded her chest with her second mighty huff. During that moment I wondered, how can this woman seem so disillusioned yet keep each belonging? Belongings that provide her with such unpleasant memories. Where did the hatred end and the sentiment begin?

“True love is a concept,” Ms. Bedel said, the resentment never leaving her tongue. “The idea of that sort of thing existing is new, too. People don’t realize that...but Delores.”

“Ma’am?” I replied. For no reason, I was stricken with fear in how she said my name. All I had known was that she said it with such sharpness that surely my own faults were on the verge of being mentioned - whatever those faults may have been.

“Do not follow in my footsteps.”

I believe Ms. Bedel was sixty-six at this time. The same age as I am now. Ironically

Still, to think back on the many statements - the way her eyes fixed on me, lets me know she was not a pinnacle of virtuous deeds throughout her life.

However, at that particular moment, all I knew was that I disliked the heavy silence her statement brought. It became my intention to steer away from talk of vows and purity so as I refocused on the piled riches, I noticed an emerald glistening among gold and rubies. The longer I stared into it, the more I noticed that it had lighter streaks. Appearing and disappearing depending on my movement. It was like thunder and lightning had been coursing within it. “Ms. Bedel...where did that ring come from?” I asked. “This -” Ms. Bedel lifted it, studied it. “This belonged to my mother.” “Did her husband give it to her, too?”

“What Africans had to do...” I answered, just barely connecting my gaze with her own.

“No.” My idea was correct, but wrong.

“My mother may not have been picking cotton, but she did live under those horrid conditions. After I was born, my mother bundled me up and took me with her as she journeyed North. Of course, being a colored woman, she didn’t have the luxury of driving or possessing a fortune to get her there in an instant. She worked as a maid here and there until she reached New York...and there was one woman before that.” She paused.

“We were in Kentucky…” Ms. Bedel refrained from speaking yet again, hissing: “I hate Kentucky...and I will never forget that woman as long as I live...she,” Ms. Bedel’s lips were curling, “she was downright nasty. That woman sat so high on her horse, that she had my mother feeding her baby through her teat.”

My face was surely pulling in disgust. I did not understand what was said just the right amount to be puzzled, but I understood enough to be both bewildered and uncomfortable.

“From time to time, my mother would take little things from her house. Sugar, flour. Things that wouldn’t be missed. But before we left Kentucky and never looked back, my mother thought she deserved something more in return, and this ring was it. After my mother passed on, I received it. This beauty has been with me ever since…” Suddenly Ms. Bedel took on a soft and tender tone, it was as if she placed her past behind her. “Try it on.”

Not only was I soothed by a far preferable tone, but I was also elated. Yes, it felt as though I was ascending to new heights. My high emotions would soon leave as the ring was placed on my finger, limp. “Oh…” Ms. Bedel’s lips pushed out, sympathetic. “It’s too big for you…”

“My fingers are too little…” I felt like I was an infant, helpless and insignificant.

“Maybe.” Ms. Bedel took my hand into her own, covering it in love. “One day you’ll grow into it.”

#PAST. / SHAPED BY EVERY MOMENT.#THE LITTLEJOHN FAMILY. / A LOST LEGACY.

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justmewoo · 5 years

Text

Legacy [Avengers x Male Reader] Ch.5

____________________

I wake as if it's an emergency, as if sleeping had become a ticking time bomb. The memory of being waken up from the ice was still a very real one in my mind. It was the sharp knocks on my door that had woken me and I stared at it, taking a few deep breaths. 'It was probably just somebody from the team. Nothing to worry about,' I assured myself. With a yawn I called out "One second." A quick stretch later and I was sleepily opening the door.

I immediately straightened up when I saw who was there. It was Steve. And he had someone with him. I was about to ask for the name when I was saved by my father's old fashioned demeanor. "Good morning (Fake Name), sorry for waking you so early but me and Sam thought it would be a great idea to invite you on our morning run." I blinked a few times and looked back at the clock. It was 5:30.

"Oh um- good morning Steve, Sam," I nodded my head at him and then at the other man. "That sounds like a great idea. Just let me get dressed really quick," I uttered the words through a yawn, shooting them a smile before ducking back into my room and taking a deep breath, rubbing my eyes. Did I even have any clothes to exercise in? I dug through the dresser and found some socks, boxers and jogging pants, no doubt upon the courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. My suspicions were confirmed when I opened the closet and pulled a shirt labeled with the agency's name and symbol from a hanger.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled as I put on all my clothes, finishing it up with a new pair of running shoes. They really went all out on my clothes. I couldn't help but wonder if my mother's involvement in the agency didn't help a little. With a deodorant, quick hand running through my hair, and two minutes of brushing my teeth I was ready to head out. I opened up the door to see Sam and Steve waiting there. Steve was standing patiently, smiling when I exited whereas the other was on his phone playing games, giving a sigh of relief when I closed the door behind me.

"Sorry I took so long. It took me a bit to find everything," I said with a weary smile and stepped in the elevator with the duo, turning the running duo into a trio. "It's not a problem kid, just glad we got out of there before Tony woke up," Sam spoke up, surprising me with a genuine laugh. He seemed so cold before. Not anymore though.

They got down to the garage and Steve walked towards a simple black car, nothing fancy or flashy. "I figure that you don't want too much attention on you so I got the keys to the stealth car, plus neither of you are super soldiers so it probably isn't viable for us to walk there," he said, holding up a key clearly labeled 'DO NOT TOUCH. PROPERTY OF TONY STARK'. I took a step back but Sam patted my shoulder. "No worries kid. they do this to each other all the time," he rolled his eyes with a snort as everyone got into the car, letting Steve drive us to the park to run.

I didn't hear anything the two said the entire ride, far too focused on the world around me. I'm pretty sure that Steve took the long way to wherever we were going. I was grateful though. It gave me another chance to see just how much the world had changed while I was gone. I didn't linger on it too long, deciding to focus on what was still there. There were a few restaurants and shops, and most buildings seemed to have the same bones. When we finally got there we all lined up by a tree. Sam stood in the middle of us he looked over at Steve and then at me. "Three.. two... one... go!" he exclaimed and we darted off, racing.

____________________

It wasn't a secret to any of the Avengers that Tony wasn't always the most mentally stable man. He often wouldn't come out of his lab for days or heavily drank when something seemingly minor happened. And just like everybody else he had nightmares. He was on a good streak, no nightmares, no panic attacks, and no binge drinking. Apparently though his luck was spent.

After he had finished up the late night snack with (Fake Name) the tiniest memories of someone he used to know as a kid where coming back to him. Someone he decided not to tell anyone not even Pepper knows about this person. He had look both ways in the hallway before taking a step inside his bedroom. Tony slowly locked the door so no one would surprise him coming in. In all honest he wanted to be alone without any interruptions.

"Friday, engage code blackout in my room," he said, voice soft and vulnerable. His new AI seemed to sense his emotions and instead of a snarky response simply said "Of course Mr. Stark," before F.R.I.D.A.Y dimmed the lights, slowly plunging the room into a warm glow from a single lamp.

Tony walked over to one of his drawers where he kept his most prized possession under lock with a key. It wasn't any of his cars or even a gift from Pepper. It was something more important. He looked inside his jean pocket to find a set of keys that where a bit different than the others. He used a specific key that had some weird old 70's style look. On the key it had 1975 written at the top. He put the key inside the lock and turned it slowly unlocking it with a click that seemed to set him on edge. His heart began to beat fast with each movement he made. Taking a deep breath he slowly took the key back inside his pocket. He opens the drawer with shaky hands until slowly he saw a glance of an old antique wrist watch that he knew all well was covered in small particles of dust. The wristwatch had an old black texture to it. Clearly it wasn't made from this year but he can still remember what it took him to make the watch with the help of Howard and Jarvis. The image is slowly erasing its self because he can't seem to remember his brother's face all he remembers is his name. [Male Reader] He was never able to get any photo of him and all the old memories where thrown out the window when his parents died.

He reached for the watch and held it in his shaky hands. Tony's scarred and calloused hands turned it over so he could see the inscription he knew was still there. A thumb brushed over it and he barely managed to hold back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. With the dust wiped away he could finally see the writing. There it was, beautifully inscribed.

"[Male Reader] Carter..." He murmured before cradling the trinket. A token of times gone. Carefully clasping it to his chest, he sunk to his knees, leaning his head against the cabinet.

Soon tears were streaming down his face and he let out sob. It hurt, you could see the way he curled in further on himself. Like he could protect himself from his thoughts. Like he could go back and protect [Male Reader].

____________________

First Sam had tapped out of running and then a few laps later. We sat beneath the shade of a tree, watching Steve run laps, barely breaking a sweat. Sam stared at me for a few moments, both of us still trying to catch our breaths. "Damn kid... you do that same stupid thing that Cap there does," he pointed at the other as he lapped them again. "The 'On your right' or 'on your left' thing. How'd you get faster than me? I'm a superhero," he half joked, half questioned.

I laughed at his question. "It just takes practice is all. I had always enjoyed running. Back in school I used to be in the trackteam so." I said remembering those days training at the camp.

"Speaking of super hero what power or ability do you possess? No one in the team knows yet about your powers." Sam asked curiously eyeing me.

Crap. What am I supposed to say. That I have no powers or abilities and that I was in the army. How well I be able to come up with something believable. I hate lying to everyone about me.

As I was about to open my mouth when another voice interrupted our conversation. "Come on Sam, stop asking him so many questions well, find out when the time comes." Steve lead me a hand and helped me stand up from the grass.

"Thanks Steve, and its no problem. I actually enjoyed talking with him," I shot a genuine smile Sam's direction The hero held out a hand and I pulled him to his feet, "Thanks man. Now lets get back to the compound. I heard rumors of Vision making pancakes. For a robot he knows a hell of a lot about cooking," he said as we all got back into the car, them getting into the front and passenger seats while I sat in the backseat confused at Sam talking about a robot. It seemed like I was about to meet everybody. I took a deep breath and prepped myself. I couldn't mess this up.

____________________

After what seem to be a long drive back we arrived at the compound. I exited the car feeling a bit nervous at thought of finally meeting the rest of the team. Sam and Steve walked in front of me while I walked last inside the building. I take a quick glance behind me still amazed at the big space of each room in the building. Steve turned around glancing at me for a few seconds before patting my back to grab my attention. "You alright?" He asked with a low tone while Sam continued to walk ahead of us. I nodded and closed the door behind me before walking together with Steve.

We followed Sam into the kitchen I saw the Avengers sitting in the kitchen table. Steve cleared his throat grabbing everyone's attention. Sam took a seat while both Steve and I stood up. "Guys this is [F/N] [F/L] he's the new edition to our team." He introduced me.

"It's nice to meet you all." I said. Everyone smiled and introduced themselves to me. I got to meet Natasha, Wanda, Rhodey, and Vision. Tony wasn't in the room when they introduced themselves. What threw me off was that Vision looked different his face was red with a yellow stone on the top of his forehead. He wore regular clothings but I have to admit I was a bit scared shaking his hand but I soon found out via Steve's whispering that he was nice and not dangerous. Once the food was ready we all sat down to eat. I sat in between Natasha and Wanda, feeling a bit intimidated by them both. An internationally renowned spy and a powerful mutant were nothing compared to a half super-soldier veteran.

"We are missing Thor, Clint and Banner. So this is all that's left of the Avengers after the situation with Ultron our team became a lot smaller," spoke Tony stepping inside the kitchen. From my peripheral vision I could see his eyes red even with his glasses on.

Everyone suddenly stood quiet. I was the only one who made sounds with their forks while everyone had dropped them. I eyed them wondering what was going on. The atmosphere felt tense and sad. "Tony's right we're happy to have someone new in our team despite what happened." Wanda spoke as the team continued to eat again.

"We thought we weren't going to meet you [F/N] since you avoided us last night for dinner." Said Natasha. I shook my head feeling nervous again.

"Not at all, I actually wanted to apologize for that. I just wanted to rest a little bit and get used to this new environment. Vision your cooking is delicious this pancakes are amazing."

"Thank you [F/N]." Vision replied back.

"Almost forgot, thanks for the left overs from yesterday Capsicle they where good. I haven't had Chinese in a while. And [F/N] you owe me a burger next time." Tony said serving himself breakfast earning an angry look from Steve. Tony sat down next Rhodey and pouring himself a mug of coffee. I looked down at my plate feeling bad about the entire change in atmosphere, feeling Steve's harsh gaze.

"Those where supposed to be your left overs [F/N], I told you yesterday about them. But you decided to eat burgers instead?" I froze under his glare, ducking my head like a child being scolded by his father, which wasn't far from the truth. "I- Tony offered them to me so I didn't-" Tony shot an even harsher glare at Steve. "Hey, buzz off Cap. He can eat whatever he wants, and so can I."

Everybody in the room seemed to invest themselves further in their food or prepared to hold either one of the two back in case something got out of hand. Before anyone else could say anything I stood up from the chair gaining everyone's attention. I turn to look at Steve. "I'm sorry Steve I should had eaten the food you where kind enough to safe for me and I shouldn't had accepted Tony's burger. It's just that it's being a very long time since I had eaten a burger and I should had said something to Tony about the left overs he ate. So I'm deeply sorry please don't get mad with him it was completely my fault. So if you all excuse me I'm going back to my room and take a bath. Thank you all for welcoming me and for the food." I turned around and left the kitchen, giving a half bow to them as was custom in Vietnam. I wanted to show that I still respected them.

Everyone sat quiet not knowing what to say. "That kid has apologized for no reason. It shouldn't have been brought up and you should have left him alone. Do you know how much he even respects both of you to do that? If I were in his shoes I would have beat you both up. Apologize to him before I make you," threatened Natasha, getting up as well from her seat and leaving, only stopping to put her dishes in the dishwasher..

Steve and Tony both felt ashamed and the rest of breakfast was spent in relative silence, only the sound of silverware against food showed that others were still there. The team continued to finish breakfast and scatter to do their own things.

____________________

When I got back to my room I grabbed a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before going straight to the bathroom. The second I entered the other room my eyes widened. It was massive. The whole thing was gorgeous and worth more than any money I had ever had combined. In one corner there was a glass shower, the entire ceiling full of tiny holes for the water to come out of just like rain and big enough for more than one person to stand in and enjoy. The tub on the other hand was in the middle of the room.

It was built into the floor, you wouldn't have to step over anything to get in. Simply walk into it and soak in the warmth. I was sold immediately when I saw a small jar of what I recognized to be Epsom salt. I turned on the water, getting it to the point of heat where the steam would fill the room, and slipped out of my clothes. I sat next to the bath and took a deep breath

Staring at the big scar that starts from the bottom of my knee all the way down to the end of my ankle. The big scar was still a bit fresh. After getting stitch after the war the wound still made it painful and itchy to control. But this is something I don't want anyone in the team to see. I had to take a few deep breaths at the sight. Before the panic could creep up on me I looked away and grabbed the glass jar of Epsom salt, pouring the proper amount into the tub. Bracing myself on either side of the tub, I slid myself in. Taking a deep sigh and closing my eyes, I let the warmth of it take me in. For once, the water felt safe to me. I wasn't plunging into deep icy waters and being frozen for 40 years. I was relaxing.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #chrisevans #chris evans x reader #chris evans #avengers #clint barton x reader #clint barton #natasha romanoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #thor #thor x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark

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you-andthebottlemen · 5 years

Text

55 - AU request: Peasant Van part 2

Hi everyone!! New day, new post and it’s a fun one! My first AU in a while. Now today I am frantic as I am flying back home (yaaay love 24hr long haul flights rip) and will be crazy over the next little while with Life Things and getting used to normality after so long away (is this what Van feels like?) so I hope you enjoy this one and that it will tide you over until my next post. For anyone who has sent a request recently: I promise I have gotten them and started working on them. Love you all, hope you’re doing okay xxx

Based off this request:

i’ve got no clue if this has been asked before but... is peasant van/princess reader part 2 a possibility? where she gets out of that tower and gets her cottage and her kids and her love-filled marriage and everything she’s dreamed of? because to be honest, that’s exactly the kind of story i need right now (your writing is class by the way, and your harry potter au’s might just be the greatest thing aside from this) xx

It is a part two of my medieval ‘peasant Van’ AU I wrote ages ago so definitely read that first if you haven’t, I will link it below. I am so happy someone requested this. The fic is weird and cute and I love it, glad to return to these characters! (Disclaimer: it is also not historically accurate or anything like that, it’s not very logical either or realistic. But it is CUTE so enjoy).

Part 1 can be found here: https://you-andthebottlemen.tumblr.com/post/163965383698/43-au

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Month’s had rolled by since the night that Van, the scruffy but sweet boy who lived outside the wall, had climbed up the tower and found himself in your bedroom. You weren’t able to see each other much in fear he would get caught. But you found a way to exchange letters; one of the servant boys in the kitchen, Johnny, knew him and would pass them between you for a small reward in return. Van’s letters were poorly written, and you could tell that he probably had trouble reading. It didn’t matter though; the letters became your prized possessions.

You spent your time as always, doing your duties sitting in court by your parents, attending feasts and whatever else. Your ‘spare’ time was filled with embroidery and endless day dreaming. The same routine, day in and day out. Sometimes you were able to visit the town but never alone, always with your silver clad entourage. This made things tedious anyway and even more difficult with Van in the picture now. You’d usually only have stolen glances, maybe the odd conversation where you pretended not to know each other. Regardless, you found ways to make it fun with your secret language made of riddles that only you and he understood.

“Will you be attending the opening of the gardens this week?” you asked him, your tone formal as to not alert the knights to anything suspicious.

“My lady, ‘course I will be. Love them roses,” he smiled, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Your heart felt warm and fuzzy, making you bite your lip to hide a smile. “They’re my favourite,” you replied.

“Specially them peach coloured ones,” Van commented and winked. You blushed wildly and he smirked triumphantly.

“Move along Princess,” one of the knights grunted, staring down at Van menacingly, perhaps remembering him from The Incident a while back.

Van reached out and delicately took your hand in his, bowing and giving it a quick kiss. You hated being treated this way by people, as if you weren’t just the same as them on the inside. But with Van it was sweet and filled you with excitement knowing that it meant something more than anyone realised, and you were doing it right under their noses. You smiled and held eye contact with him as you were guided away, knowing you’d be seeing each other again soon.

……….

Finally, the day had come for another garden opening. It had always been your favourite event at the castle, you loved being able to give some joy to the townsfolk, a distraction from their day to day lives. But now, it was even more special because it was a time you could slip off and be with Van undisturbed, where you could be yourself.

You were sat down in the soft green grass, shoes off and your face pointing up towards the sky so the sun could soak into your skin. You could feel Van just watching you. He’d been telling you that the roses he’d planted at home were in fact, flourishing. He reckoned he had a green thumb. Though from what he’d told you about his father, you could bet that Bernie had been tending to them without Van’s knowledge. They sounded like the sweetest family and you wished you had a relationship like that with yours. Instead, you did whatever you were told without question and it never felt all that loving.

You fluttered your eyelids open and turned to Van. He was laying back on the ground, propped up on his elbows. He quickly averted his gaze when he saw you catching him in his stare. You giggled and he cracked a sheepish grin.

“Whatcha’ thinking about Peaches?”

Him. Always him.

“What’s the story of that gold necklace?” you asked, your eyes landing on the small pendent that peeked out of his tattered shirt.

Van sat up and shuffled towards you; you now sat cross-legged opposite each other, your knees touching.

“Well, it’s been in my family for a while. Dad gave it to mum when she had me, then when I turned 18, they gave it to me. Then I’ll give it to my wife when she has our first-born son and yeah.”

He finished his clunky story with a shrug and placed a hesitant hand on your knee. You looked up and met his eyes; both of you suddenly nervous. Van probably because he knew that he was overstepping a line, and you because you wanted more than just a hand on the knee.

“I love that,” you said, referring to the story of his necklace. “Your wife will be a lucky woman.”

“Will you be my wife?” Van asked, innocently but with conviction.

The soft smile on your lips fell and your jaw dropped in bewilderment.

“What?!”

“I meant it when I said I’d get you out! That we’d run away. Run away with me?”

Van shuffled closer and moved the hand on your knee to your cheek. You were reminded of the conversation on your bed that night, when Van pleaded with you and proposed ideas of escaping to the life you wanted but couldn’t have. You’d not said no to his idea then and you had clung onto it in your daydreams ever since.

“Van…“

Van leant forward close to your face and you could feel his breath, his nose grazing against yours. Your heart rate spiked and you sat stunned and frozen. Taking your stillness as a sign, Van leant in even closer and pressed his lips to yours.

It was a soft and undemanding kiss. Van was testing the waters; he didn’t want to scare you. You pulled away slightly and looked at him in both shock and wonder. You loved that he was brave and bold enough to just kiss a princess.

“Oh, Peaches, I’m sorry, I- “

“Shhh,” you smiled. You grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him into you again. You felt him smile against your lips as you kissed the second time. You had more confidence now and your heart fluttered. It was messy but that was okay.

When you pulled away, Van was wearing the biggest grin you’d ever seen, and that was saying something. You couldn’t help but mirror his expression; you were feeling giddy and dazed and incredibly happy. Your first kiss. It was perfect and with the perfect person.

After a moment, you both burst into laughter. Neither of you could believe what just happened. Van fell back into the grass and covered his face with his hands, still grinning.

“I kissed a princess!” he exclaimed to himself, his voice turning high pitched. You giggled at him and smiled in awe.

When he moved his hands from his face, you lay down on the grass beside him, resting your head on his chest. Van wrapped an arm around your shoulder and held you close. You’d never felt safer and you’d never felt happier, than right there in his arms.

………………

That evening, you floated about the castle without a care in the world. You were so happy; completely on cloud nine. Your kiss with Van and the afternoon as a whole replayed over and over in your mind, filling you with more excitement each time. You felt as though nothing could wipe the smile from your face or the joy from your heart.

However, you were wrong.

“What do you mean I’m getting married?!” you exclaimed, in both rage and shock.

“We’ve found you a suiter y/n!” you mother squeaked excitedly, clasping her hands to her cheeks.

You glared at both your parents who sat in their thrones before you.

“No. I don’t accept. I don’t want to marry someone I don’t know and don’t love.”

“What do you mean ‘no?” your father scoffed. “Marry for love? This isn’t a fantasy!”

“I will not marry him!” you cried with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You will. It’s decided. The Lord arrives in a week for your first meeting. And you will be wed y/n, it will be of great benefit to our land.”

You tore away from the throne room in a run and escaped back to your tower. Once inside the walls of your bedroom, you collapsed down onto your bed and sobbed until your eyes were bloodshot and sore. You didn’t want to marry whoever this lord was, you didn’t want to move away. You didn’t want any of this. You only wanted Van and the babies and life far away from all of this royalty crap.

Once you’d calmed down and could breathe properly again, you went to look out your window. The sun was going down now and the land around you glowed. You looked out into the distance in the direction Van had told you he lived and wondered what he was doing right now. Was he thinking of you too?

You mulled over his words and promises about running away together. You wanted to drop everything and run so, so badly. To leave it all behind and escape this life that wasn’t meant for you.

Without a second thought, you packed a rucksack with some clothes and your most important possessions, the pile of Van’s letters included. Once the sun had set and the sky was black, you devised a plan on how to escape the castle under the cover of darkness while everyone was asleep. Not an easy task but if Van could break in, you could break out. And you’d never been more determined to do anything in your life.

…………

Wearing the plainest clothing you owned, you followed Johnny through the tunnel under the moat. You felt scared and cold but also couldn’t shake the excitement. Turns out that Van had told Johnny everything; so, he wasn’t too hesitant on helping you escape out the servant’s route to the town. He said he’d take you to Van’s house and you promised that you’d make sure no harm would come to him and also gave him a small pouch of coins for the risk.

“You alright?” he asked.

You nodded but clung to his arm as he led you through the dark. You didn’t dare light a torch in case you were spotted.

Once you reached the end and you could finally see the stars again, Johnny gave you his coat to cover your dress in case anyone was out and about who could recognise you. You were beyond grateful for his help and you wished you could do something proper for him in return. You thought it said a lot about Van that he had such wonderful friends.

Soon, Johnny had led you past the market and through rows of small houses, which were more like huts or cottages. Animals made noises as you passed them by and you winced every time in fear the owners would come out and find you. You dreaded the thought of what would happen if you were to be dragged back to your parents at the castle, caught in the act of running away.

“Okay Princess, it’s that one,” Johnny whispered, pointing out a small mud brick place with a wonky looking rose bush at the side. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, I can never repay you Johnny, truly I am in debt to you.”

“Not at all Princess,” Jonny said sincerely shook his head. “And call me Bondy.”

“Bondy,” you repeated with a smile and small nod. “Call me y/n.”

He stuck his hand out for a shake but instead you pulled him in for a hug and kiss on the cheek. You could almost feel the shock radiating off him. You gave him back his coat and waved one last time before he descended back off into the dark the way you’d came.

You took a final deep breath; it was now or never and you’d already come this far. There was a soft orange glow from one of the windows, probably a candle, so hopefully you wouldn’t be waking anyone up with your shock arrival. You felt bad turning up like this and hoped that Van had truly meant what he said.

After softly knocking at the door, you heard a shuffle of feet. Your heart was racing. When the door opened you were met by an older man with kind eyes. They were like Van’s but aged, though no less bright. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out, you heard another echo of footsteps and a familiar voice.

“Who is it?”

Suddenly Van peaked out from behind his father’s shoulder trying to get a look at whoever was there. If you weren’t so nervous, you would have laughed at how nosey he was.

“Peaches?!”

Van eagerly pushed poor Bernie out of the way and bundled you into a hug. You felt instantly relieved and melted right into him. When you pulled away, Van ushered you inside without question, his father close behind. The place was small, smaller than any home you’d ever been in. The whole place was probably the size of your bedroom if a little larger. There was a basic stove in one corner with a stone bench to cook on, a shabby looking table and chairs then two small doorways which you assumed led to bedrooms. It was so basic but somehow felt more homely than the castle despite its size and grandeur.

“Dad this is Peach-… the Princess,” Van said to his dad, stumbling over his words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Princess,” he smiled warmly.

“You can call me y/n, I’m nothing special,” you replied timidly. “Sorry, for uh, being here Mr McCann,” you said, looking down. Your usual confidence and eloquence escaped you.

You didn’t want to offend the man and you felt really terrible for showing up on his doorstep like this and putting the family in such a position. Hiding you would be considered treason. Treason was punishable by imprisonment or even death.

Bernie’s face softened and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Van’s told us everything, you’re so welcome here my dear.”

“Thank you. So, so much.”

You looked between Van and Bernie gratefully, some worry lifting off your chest. After a short while Bernie went back to bed where Van’s mother Mary was still sleeping. Van and Bernie both had an inkling she wouldn’t be as happy about this unexpected visit as they were so best to let her have a full night’s sleep. You and Van stayed up longer and talked. You told him everything, about the marriage and the lord arriving in a week. You had to fight off tears just speaking out it.

“I knew things were too good to be true,” you whispered into his chest as he held you tight.

You were upset that this had all happened after the most perfect day together. Your head swam with worries and you didn’t know what on earth you were doing.

“You’re here now and we’ll work it out, yeah?” Van soothed.

He set you up in his bed, insisting on taking the floor. You put up a fight but he was relentless and wouldn’t stop making a fuss until you were laid down and tucked up. The bed was hard and dug into your back, but you didn’t care.

Van kissed you goodnight and then fell asleep quickly despite laying on the cold dirt floor. Everything was uncertain and this was terrifying. But you stared down at the boy with the freckles, bad haircut and blue eyes who would do anything for you and felt a little more at ease. You fell asleep that night calmed with the knowledge that Van McCann, the peasant boy who had taken a bite out of your peach, had also stolen your heart.

…………….

“Van! Close the gate! The goat will get out!” you yelled desperately as you heard him come home.

“Sorry Peaches can’t hear you, the goat got out!” he shouted back.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh a little too. Years had passed but Van hadn’t changed at all; you loved it.

Ignoring the ruckus caused by Van trying to herd the goat back into the yard outside, you looked down at the little rosy cheeked baby girl sitting up and smiling at you from her wooden crib. She had Van’s blue eyes and long lashes. Just looking at her made your heart want to burst with love.

“What are we going to do with Daddy?” you asked her, smiling and bending down to her level.

You’d named her Mary after Van’s mother. Little Mary made gurgling sounds at you and stuck her fingers in her mouth. She was the first of what you suspected were many babies to come. You caressed her cheek before getting up to clear the kitchen from breakfast.

You and Van had escaped and eloped. Van’s cousins lived in another village that was in another Kingdom; your parents couldn’t touch you and it was unlikely anyone would recognise you there either. His uncle set him up with a job and he’d worked day in and day out saving up to buy you a wedding ring. As soon as he could afford it, he proposed. After a while, you were able to move from the spare room in one of his cousin’s houses into a tiny cottage of your own. Then before you knew it, Little Mary was on her way. Van’s family had been so kind and supportive; giving you second-hand baby clothes or toys and anything else they could. Life was perfect. You had friends, real friends for the first time in your life. You felt free. No one knew you had escaped the life of royalty and it felt good to be seen for who you were, not the title that hung over your head.

Van was the perfect husband and perfect father. You couldn’t believe that your reality now looked the same as all the things you daydreamed about up in your tower for years. And it was all because of Van. The love of your life. You’d grown up together, his hair cut improved a bit and now you shared a tiny perfect child who so far seemed to be an even combination of the two of you. You wondered what her personality would be like as she grew up. Would she be sweet and mischievous like Van or a level headed dreamer like you?

Van came through the door breathing heavily and his face and clothes smudged in dirt.

“Bloody goat,” he breathed, wiping his forehead.

“Well, I did say not to leave the gate open,” you smirked. “Besides, I like the goat, best not let it escape yeah?”

You walked over and gave Van a kiss, ignoring how bad he smelt. You’d started selling goats milk cheese in the local market, earning your little family some extra money. You’d also started experimenting on making goat milk soaps. That was still a work in progress, though you enjoyed having something of your own to do. Van loved it, thought you were ‘dead smart’.

“Go get washed up,” you instructed as you tried to rub the smudge off his cheek.

Van stopped to give Mary a kiss on top of her head as he walked through to the back where the tub was. She giggled and reached her arms up to him.

“Can’t pick you up love, mum says I need to wash. I smell,” he said to her as if she understood.

Your hand moved unconsciously to the gold chain that now hung on your neck and you fiddled with it as you stared at the two of them, totally besotted.

When Van had finished, he came out to find you and Mary sat out in the garden. You had her sat on your lap and you were showing her the different flowers that had bloomed. Van sat down beside you and reached his arms out for his baby girl. She shrieked when she saw him and was passed over happily. Mary stretched out and touched his face, he just made silly expressions back at her. Van was dirt free and in a clean fabric shirt, his wet hair clung to his forehead and stuck up funnily. He’d lost the baby fat off his cheeks but otherwise looked the same as when you’d first met him really. Though he’d definitely gotten more handsome with age.

“Look how beautiful your mummy is,” he whispered to Mary as he held your gaze, turning her to face you.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks.

“I got something for you at the market this mornin’,” he said.

He sat Mary down on the grass and raced off. She began to curiously pull blades of grass out of the ground and squish them up between her fingers. When Van came back, he had his hands hidden behind his back.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. You did what he said.

Van placed something in your hands, it was soft and kind of…furry? When you opened your eyes, you couldn’t contain the grin.

“A peach!” he boasted proudly.

Peaches were ridiculously hard to come by where you lived now. In that moment you were thrown back to your first meeting with Van. The old lady and her granddaughter, Van being chased by knights, you keeping the peach on your windowsill for weeks. Who would have thought that you end up running away to start a family with that very peasant boy? Certainly not you. You felt sad for a minute, thinking about your parents who had no idea where you were. You tried not to think about those things too much. You had everything you’d ever dreamed of.

As if sensing your sudden mood change, Van crouched down closer to you and stroked your cheek.

“Thank you, Van,” you smiled and leant in to kiss him. You handed the peach to Little Mary. She looked at it curiously and rubbed the soft peach fuzz against her cheek.

“Do you think she’d like it?” Van asked you.

You shrugged and he reached out to take the peach. Little Mary’s face screwed up and her lip trembled like she was going to cry because daddy had taken her new toy. Van pulled the skin off the peach to make it easier for her toothless little mouth.

“Careful, don’t let daddy take a bite!” you said to her, giving Van a wink. He just smirked back at you, knowing exactly what memory you were referring to.

Van’s hair had started to dry in soft waves under the sunshine and he looked faultless. He handed the fruit back to Mary and her tiny smile returned. She began to suck on the peach, clearly liking the sweet taste.

Van sat and pulled you into his lap. He held you from behind and buried his face in your neck, giving your skin soft kisses. You squeezed his hands tight, wanting to live in this moment forever.

“I love you, Peaches,” he whispered.

“I love you too Van,” you replied, staring at your blue-eyed baby girl who was now covered in peach juice and loving it.

#catfish #catb #Catfish and the Bottlemen #van mccann #johnny bond #larry lau #van mccann fanfiction #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #van mccann au #catfish au

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serenityluanebunny · 5 years

Text

The cost of the Pomegranate

Hello and I hope you all will enjoy this story, it is part of my book I am writing. This the first chapter

Chapter 1 - The deal

Hades had spent the last century as a solidarity god, as he had not seen the surface for over 1000 years. The way his brother had decided to run the pantheon had made him retreat, along with the rumors of what they spoke of him. After the war with the Titians mortals feared him because he mostly resembled his father Cronos, the tyrant king of the Titans. He gave up trying to convince them that he was not like his father but his own person.

Hades was the oldest of the three brothers and by birthright should have ascended to the throne of Olympus. He did not aspire to but knew of his birthright, so when Zeus has suggested they draw lots he thought nothing of it. He was one for fairness and justice, so they drew lots and he got the underworld the opposite of what he wanted. Hades had been bitter in the early days, as both brothers walked away with what he thought at the time great prizes, while he was casted to the underworld to be alone for centuries. He over the centuries had begun to retreat from his family and the mortal world. He would go to counsel in the early days for they all had a fair voice but as the century went in Zeus offspring claimed their own voiced in the counsel he retreated. He got tired for their games, the looks at him and their biting words. Hades over time never corrected what was being spread about him, as his demeanor become cold and indifferent.

Hades was one to keep those he trusted close and, his those he hated as far as way as he can. He knew that he needed to interact with the gods as they always need something, and that is when they thought of him. The way the gods interfered with the mortal loves was sickening to him. Instead of being a model of how to behave and furthering their race, they played, destroyed and used them at their whims. There were very few deities who valued the importance of the mortals that worshipped them. Hades was one of those gods that to him he felt that the mortals should be treated much better as they are one of the life-lines to the gods. The Olympian gods needed constant worship to maintain their power, as he did not require that to keep his power. Hades kingdom grew as those very mortals gave up their lives, or they died, and Thanatos claimed their souls.

Hades kingdom was massive as all soul’s immortal and mortal alike came to him. He had become very power right underneath his younger brothers nose. He held two-third of the gods immortality. Ambrosia and the very nectar the gods consume all come from a very special plant in Elysian. Demeter his younger sister half the other third of their immortality as she was in charge of the humans. Hades had not bragged about this control, but he knew his brothers secretly new that is why they had left him alone to his own devices. He knew that at one point this would come into hand, where he could upper hand his brothers.

Hades had been on his throne when the familiar flutter of wings could be heard, and he knew exactly who it was. Hermes the god messenger, had been pestering him as per orders to Zeus. Zeus king of the gods wanted hades to come to the harvest festival. He held this festival every year the bounty was plentiful, and it was. Hades finally gave in when he found out that Persephone Demeter’s daughter would be in attendance. He recalls the last time he had seen her, as she was only 10 years of age, and was lost on Olympus. The poor young goddess was very curious about the world around her, so she would leave her mother’s protective grasp. Persephone had run into him as she had not watched where she was going, and he to the surprise of the other gods, was understanding. Hades that day spent some time with her, but soon her mother found her and scolded her for running off. He remembered the way the child looked at her mother, and how she felt disappointed to leave. His heart had been touched because no one wanted to be around him. Everyone feared the Lord of the Underworld, but not this beautiful child in front of him. She instead wanted to know more about him and talk to him as if he was her best of friend. When they parted, and he return to his world he thought of her, but as with time soon forgot the event that happened between them.

He went this day to the harvest festival as his brother wouldn’t leave him alone. Zeus had requested his presence something he did not dare disobey so he rose up from the underworld and joined his so-called family. Hades prepared for this day as he wore the finest clothing he had. He wore a striking deep blue with a gold belt He looked around and Olympus was decorated to the nine, such a stark contrast to his home. As he walked the cobblestone gods would gasp and he brushed them off as he reached the tallest temple. The temple of the gods Zeus home.

Persephone's eyes glinted over the vast landscape before her. Beauty and abundance glimmering in her classic features. Her silhouette the very definition of grace. Her smile was the silken ivory of the pearls adorning her neck, her laugh was like bells on a Sunday morning. A class act, with stars in her eyes and beads of promise adorning the very essence of her. Of all of the gems, she was the most priceless. She was helping her mother, as Demeter tended to the flowers of the land. Her beautiful voice echoing in all of its immaculate perfection, as she tended to her duties. Persephone's smile was genuine but the brooding in her eyes was becoming evident. She was becoming rather bored of her mother's watchful gaze, her protective nature shielding her from any onlooker to cross her path. Youth resided in her features. The light dusting of freckles cascading her face just over the brim of her nose. She bit her lip with a sigh as she toyed with the dandelion between her fingers bringing it to her lips as her heart whispered a silent wish and the fluffy white spores dispersed as the wind carried them. Just once she wished Demeter would loosen the reins. She fell back into the grass with her hands falling at her sides as she breathed in the atmosphere and exhaled her thoughts. Her long reddish blonde hair falling in waves around her.

Demeter was the goddess of the grain and fertility as she always thought it was funny given that she only had one child at the moment. She loved her daughter so much, but she had so much fear that her daughter would fall to the same fate as her that she strangled her freedom. She had nymphs watching her constantly so that she would not be left to her own devices. She had learned as Persephone grew she has gained Zeus ability to be curious and wanting new experiences. Demeter made sure she curbs that by keeping her guarded and naïve. Demeter was a beautiful goddess with green eyes, and red auburn hair, which she got from her mother Rhea. She always wore conservative clothing as she didn’t want to be eyes to any of the gods that couldn’t keep it in their chiton “Persephone, come here please we have been summoned to Olympus for a harvest festival in our honor. This was one I couldn’t say no to.” She said looking at her daughter and showing her the golden envelopes, so she can read it. “we have about 3 hours to get ready, listen to me carefully you are not to speak to anyone there. All those gods and goddess are like wolves I do not trust them around you “She said as she motioned her to follow her to the house, so she can see the dress she had made for her.

“Yes, mother." Persephone sighed taking the envelope into her hands as she read the letters. She was growing effortlessly tired of her mother's protective droning. She felt alone in a world of pretty faces, more often than she didn't. She was naïve. Her mother kept her that way, but she was far from stupid. Persephone followed along with her mother skipping beside her as she took her hand linking their fingers together. Her aura was quite childlike at times. She jabbered on about the festival and who would be there as they went. She was excited to see the dress that her mother had fashioned for her. She wasn't sure what to think about the festival. She never had much fun at those kinds of things any way she was always under her mother's watchful eyes, and more often than not her thumb

Demeter watched her daughter and caresses her face very carefully as she was her most precious possession. She kept her daughter naïve because she didn’t want her to fall into the same tricks she was out into When you are there you are to stand by myside. Dear do not drink anything you are not supposed to. She said as she showed her a beautiful golden dress. The pattern was intricate Dear please do not Entertain them or make them think that you are interested in them or they will eat you alive. She said as she started to prepare her daughter. Miasma and Kalin please help Persephone get ready and have her meet me in about 10 minutes. You have not traverse the aether so you will he dizzy and disoriented it is normal until you get used to it but that won’t be happening unless you are with me deal

Persephone slipped into her gown and knotted her hair into a long braid, weaving flowers through the center of it. She looked grown up and beautiful. She could have cried as she saw herself. She felt like a woman. She was more than accustomed to her mother making her feel like a little girl, and she always played along. Sweet, innocent, quiet, Obedience was law. She smiled as one of the girls clasped her necklace around her neck. If only they knew of the secrets swimming around in her head. She wanted to feel. She longed to feel the weight of a heavy heart in her chest. She'd stolen a book once When her mother wasn't looking or found it rather and never returned it. It was full of tales of love and triumph. She wanted that. She wanted to fall in love and be swept away as any girl does, a fate she feared that with her mother by her side she would never capture. Never the less, she was curious, and she was determined. Persephone made her way out to her mother as she'd finally finished getting ready and took her hand as Demeter took a look at her spinning her around. The vibrant gold of the dress was absolutely stunning. The patterns were intricate and divine. She felt exquisite.

Demeter entered the room as she had left to give her daughter privacy they she needed. Demeter decided to dress up for this affair, as it was a festival honoring both of them. She wore a beautiful orange dress to match her daughters. This particular dress in speaking was made of the finest silk and was woven to look like the sun was setting. The dress was stunning to say the least. She wore girl bangles and rings with a pendant having her symbol. Beauty was definitely on the grain goddess side. Many desired her but she looked the other way, for she was not interested in her kinds trickery. She always made it a point to point it out to her child. Men only care about one thing and once they have it they move on. “beautiful, stunning you look like a true princess more so then your other sisters. “she said as she placed a golden wreath on her daughters head. “Now we must depart before your father sends in the Calvary” she grasped her daughter hand tight and instructs.” Keep holding tight as we are traveling different planes to get to Olympus. Keep your mind focus on going to Olympus. “she said as she teleported them to Olympus in one easy flow. Once there she smiled at her daughter as their feet landed in the main entrance to the hall of the gods. Demeter gave time for Persephone to process what just happened and to place her foot on the firm floor. “how you feeling? Do not need you getting all queasy inside my dear “she said softly as she observed her daughter for any signs of getting sick.

Hades watched her action and he smiled as she wasn’t scared of him or being alone with him. Many gods feared him because they assume he was cold and indifferent. He was but that was because of how others treated him “ I know she would not , that is why she kept you hidden, I like you Persephone you are not like most goddess . Yes ,I like you being Coy , when you do it it’s adorable when others do it they have ulterior motives . Your mother was right about our relatives you have to be weary do not trust easily here in Olympus. They are nice to your face but quick to cut you down and your reputation. “ he said as he agreed with Demeter. It was a shame their relationship went to the waste side when she had her daughter

Hades felt her take his hand and she started to trace his lines and each touch sent shivers down his spine and he felt very warm to her touch. Hades eyes her as he grasp her hand as he noticed she fit perfect to his hand and he clasped them . He pulled her towards him and smiled at her , and was brave enough to lean down and kissed her softly then brushing his lips on hers . He then leaned away not to scare her .

Persephone's eyes fluttered closed as he took her hands and brushed his lips against hers softly. She wasn't startled. Simply surprised by the notion. She opened her eyes watching his cautious gaze as he leaned away and she smiled placing her hands on either side of his face as she brought her face to his kissing him deeply. It felt as if she'd kissed him a million times. Their lips morphing together as if one was made for the other. Persephone's skin erupted with chills as the fire of the kiss burned between them. Finally, she pulled away. Breathless and beaming she bit her bottom lip, feeling her skin begin to flush faintly. "I'm sorry- I don't know what came over me." She said sweetly. She knew her mother would have blamed it on the sensual nature of a God. She knew that she would assume Persephone had been tricked, but that wasn't it at all. Hades and Persephone had just fallen together. Two pin points on a road map that met in the middle. Two different trains with one stop. Hades seemed inevitable. All of him. Everything.

Hades watched her as he began to kiss her deeper his hands cupped her face so that he was able to enjoy the sensation she provided . Hades body was on fire from just kissing her . Hades never had such an Intense reaction from any kiss he had gotten . When they both broke the kiss he was breathing irregular and had pushed her tight to him . He kept the moan to him as he felt her soft body on his . He stepped back and just allowed himself to cool down . He definitely was attracted to her and desired her that was evident in his actions and his body reaction. Hades smiled as she was flushed and her lips were swollen with the intensity of the kiss . “ why are you apologizing you can not help your bodies respond , I am sorry for know I got to do better I let it get to far . You just met me and I am here practically sticking my tongue down your throat . Just know I don’t do this to just anyone , you are the only one who’s made me have that much reaction . “ hades said as he kissed her hand again and smiled . “Your mother would kill me and call me a pervert if she saw this . We are running out of time aphie and Ares will only keep her occupied for so long . I would love to see you again .” He said as that was when he was going to take her . He now had to have her no matter what and would not share .

You aren't a pervert, And most of it is my fault." She laughed smiling as he kissed her hand. "I'd follow you anywhere, I'd love to see you again." She said softly watching his eyes. Her mother would be absolutely furious. Her father she wasn't sure one way or another. Her thoughts were racing as her heart rate fought to become normal again. She still had chills littering her arms. Her face beyond flushed at this point. She couldn't explain the emotions she was feeling. She'd lost her mind. Thoughts swam whimsically in her head as she watched him. She didn't want to say goodbye to him. She was having too much fun. He made her happy, but she knew that he was right. Her mother would be along soon enough, and possibly seething if she found out.

Thank you Persephone, but I will give advice to you don’t trust any make gods here . The males here including my two brothers only care about one thing and that is getting in the sheets with whoever they want regardless if you want or not . “ He said as caresses her face. He was in awe as she was still having a hard time regulating her body . He know knew that his thoughts would be consumed by this beauty he had In front of him . He caresses her face and looked into her eyes . “ I would never hurt you nor do anything that you would not approve” he said as he kept his touch light as he kept feeling the electricity between them . He heard Demeter in the background looking for daughter and sighed as he turned towards her . “ meet me tomorrow near that pomegranate tree your mother he near your house . Make sure to come when she is busy with her duties and I can see you then. “ hades said as he knew she would come . He was nervous in how things would go and play out . What if she didn’t like his realm and she hated him. What if she saw him a monster because he was plucking her from her fields and sun . He had so many fears and how things could go wrong . Now go before your mother cuts this before it even starts “ he said turning her so she can go inside

Persephone smiled as she pulled away from him her fingers leaving him suddenly. She noted how cold she felt without his hand in hers she blew him a soft kiss as she turned away gracefully walking out of the garden and away from Hades. She was soon in her mother's arms as Demeter hugged her tightly. "Persephone where were you? I was so worried?" She said frantically as she held her daughter close. "I was picking flowers mother, don't worry." She smiled handing her the tulip she'd plucked free from a patch of wildflowers. "This one is for you." She smiled placing it into her mother's hair. Thoughts of Hades flooded her mind as she bit her lip remembering how it'd felt to kiss him. Her body pushed flush against his. Her head was spinning as she remembered the way she felt. The sighs. The panting. It was unlike she'd ever felt before. It was the desire she had read about so many times before.

#hades and persephone #hades #olympus #fanfic #persephone #Peresphone and hades fanfiction #Zeus #Hera #Ares #aphrodite #underworld

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lafiametta · 5 years

Text

@libertines76 sent in this Jopson/Little prompt: “Little/Jopson making out (or more!) in a supply closet (for example) and get caught by someone cool- like McDonald. But he’s super chill and like, ‘Oh, boys…just gonna grab what I came in here for and leave you to it.’ And he does. And they’re not scared he’s going to tell anyone b/c he’s hella awesome and doesn’t care they’re together. So they keep at it. (I suppose this could pretty much be the opposite of what happened when Irving caught Hickey/Gibson together).”

What a smashing idea, I have to say, and I hope I’ve done it justice! :) And fair warning: there’s a racier bit just below the cut!

(An authorial tip of the hat to tautline-hitch’s fantastic post on homosexuality and the British navy, which helped inform some of Little’s thinking.)

His mind contained nothing resembling rational thought as he pressed Thomas up against the paneled wall of the otherwise deserted wardroom, his hands grasping, greedy as an impatient child. The steward widened his stance to allow Edward closer, heat and desire quickly blossoming in the narrow space between their hips, fierce enough to rival the searing warmth of lips and tongues as both collided in shared need.

It had not been a planned encounter, but rather one of opportunity – something they were afforded so rarely aboard a ship as crowded as Terror. The captain had convened a brief officers’ meeting following the midday meal – it ended, as they almost always did, without resolving much of anything – and as Edward stepped back into the passageway, he had caught a glimpse of Thomas through the half-open wardroom door, stacking the sauce-stained china into neat piles upon the table. The steward had been humming something under his breath, utterly absorbed in his work, a length of dark hair falling rakishly across his pale brow.

In truth, he had been watching Thomas for most of the meal, his eyes continually drawn to the steward like a lodestone, but seeing him in the wardroom – entirely alone, his handsome features illuminated in the warmth of the lantern light – was enough to arouse a wave of lust that Edward felt powerless to ignore. Succumbing to his urges, he had slipped past the door and tugged it shut behind him, and then without prelude reached out and pulled Thomas into a dizzying kiss.

It was frenzy and madness, heightened by the knowledge of how little time they had, how easily they might be discovered – and yet they could not stop, breath overturning rapidly, desire coiling deep within the belly, fingers slipping past fabric and encountering smooth, uninterrupted flesh. With a fumbling hand Edward undid the first few buttons of Thomas’s trousers, and then pushed aside shirttail and drawers until the prize he sought was just within reach. Thomas panted, a low keening sound emerging from the back of his throat as Edward palmed him tenderly and then began to stroke.

His forehead fell against Thomas’s, skin feverishly warm, their lips meeting again and again in breathless desperation, the rhythm a soft echo of the steady movement of Edward’s hand. The steward’s grip grew tighter along his upper arm, urging him onward, fueling his own aching need—

With no apparent warning, the door to the passageway slid open, and, startled from their reverie, the two of them hastily broke apart. Thomas barely had time to pull his coat closed over his partially unbuttoned trousers before the doorway revealed the fair-haired form of Dr. McDonald.

He glanced over and took them both in, and Edward could feel his racing heart begin to still with icy fear, for while they had been quick enough not to be caught outright, it would no doubt still seem suspicious that they were together in the wardroom, engaged in some private activity, the door shut tight. Moreover, one look at Thomas – cheeks flushed, collar tugged out of place, lips pink and ripely swollen – and the doctor could easily guess what had been taking place just before he arrived.

The fog of lust quickly dissipated from Edward’s mind as it began to fully dawn on him what real danger they were in. Were Dr. McDonald to mention to the captain what he saw, or even make a formal accusation, as well he might, the consequences would be swift and unquestionably severe. Edward had once known a sailor hung for sodomy – he had been a young midshipman then, wide-eyed and impressionable – and while there was no proof to support such a charge against himself or Thomas, they might easily be found guilty of lesser offenses. At worst, a verdict of uncleanness could see him stripped of his rank, and Thomas of his position, and the both of them flogged, perhaps even imprisoned in the confines of the hold until they finally returned home.

It was a possibility almost too terrible to contemplate, not just for himself, but especially for Thomas, who was guilty of nothing more than being in possession of an overly generous heart. And to imagine him disgraced, back bared to the whole of the ship’s company as the lash came down, bloody stripes marring that lovely pale expanse? Edward could not bear it. At that moment he decided, no matter the outcome, he would not allow Thomas to be held responsible for their actions. Before that happened, he would confess to having forced the steward into such intimacies by prerogative of rank or else by making some crude, uninvited attempt upon his person.

And yet as Edward carefully watched the expression on the doctor’s face, he could see no indication that the other man had observed anything out of the ordinary in the wardroom.

“Ah, Lieutenant, Mr. Jopson,” he said, cheerfully as ever. “I seem to have misplaced my spectacles at some point after dinner. I’ve searched the sick bay with no luck, and then wondered if I might have left them here.”

Thomas, to his credit, appeared entirely calm, taking a step away from the wall as he fastened a single button on his coat to close it, a tiny, inconspicuous slip of the fingers that would draw little attention, despite its necessity.

“I haven’t seen them on the table, sir,” he offered, “but is it possible you might have left them in your own cabin? Perhaps before dinner began?”

The doctor nodded, pursing his lips as he considered the possibility, and then skirted the edge of the table until he reached the door in the center of the wall. He pushed it open, disappearing for a moment into the relative darkness of his cabin, and from there emerged a small sound of satisfaction.

“Yes,” he said, as he reappeared in the doorway, clutching a pair of round spectacles. “I had forgotten them on my writing desk. Very good, Mr. Jopson. You’re a credit to your profession.”

He slid his cabin door closed again and took several steps forward, only to pause just across the table from Edward and Thomas. Was this when the accusation would come? Edward wondered, his chest growing tighter with nervous dread. Had the doctor simply been waiting to collect his thoughts before he made it clear to them what he planned to tell the captain?

“I’m pleased to find these,” Dr. McDonald finally said, as he absently tapped the metal rim of his spectacles against his open palm, smiling a little to himself. “At the risk of my own vanity, I’ll confess that I’m nearly blind as a mole without them. I can’t see much of anything these days, even at a distance. In fact, I’m surprised I was even able to recognize you both when I came in.”

He turned his gaze towards them once again, his expression open and direct, as if he did not want them to mistake his meaning.

“And were I to come across the two of you in some other place, at some unexpected time,” he added, “I’m certain I would have absolutely no sense of what I was seeing. If pressed, I would only be able to report seeing you engaged in some form of polite conversation.”

“Of course,” Edward offered, not knowing how else to respond. The doctor did not reply, but simply nodded in acknowledgement, that wry half-smile still lingering at the corner of his mouth, and then made his way back through the wardroom door, pulling it shut as he departed.

As he stood there, some part of Edward did not understand what had just happened – he and Thomas had been caught in clear violation of the Articles and yet there would be no punishment, no consequences at all? – but mostly he wanted to weep with relief at his good fortune, even as he was certain he had done little to deserve it. He glanced over at Thomas, who undoubtedly was thinking the same as he, and watched the color as it returned to his pale cheeks, for a moment reminding him of what they had been doing just before they had been interrupted. His desire was still there, right below the surface, but the fear that still coursed through his veins made him cautious, and it seemed foolish to risk fate twice in one afternoon.

So instead of pulling the steward into his arms, as so much of him longed to do, he reached down and clasped his hand, intertwining Thomas’s warm fingers with his own.

“Come to my cabin tonight, during first watch,” he murmured, feeling an anticipatory smile bubble to his lips, “and we might continue where we left off.”

#the terror amc #the terror #fanfiction #thomas jopson #edward little #jopson x little #alexander mcdonald #libertines76 #joplittle

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leta-the-strange · 5 years

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yay! newt/leta first kiss? preferably hogwarts era.

Oh, cute! Thanks for this one. I know its a bit long but I always get carried away :( I still have two in my inbox to get through but feel free to send me more Leta prompts/hcs/ships.

“I can’t believe Professor Dumbledore is letting us dothis!” Newt exclaimed with excitement, getting his head stuck in his shirt inhis hasty attempt to pull it off without undoing all the buttons.

Leta chuckled and helped pull it over his head. Shehad moments ago shrugged out of her own uniform that she had worn over the topof her emerald green school issued swimsuit and was wrapped up in her navy robe whilethey waited for the rest of the class to make their way down to the Great Lake.

She threw his clothes over the branch her own shirt, tie,vest and tartan skirt were hanging from. “I’m not awfully surprised,” she digressed.“Dumbledore has always possessed the inane ability to get his students to dohis bidding by framing it as a fun exercise.”

“Well, even so…” Newt said, aware of the distrust thatradiated from his best friend toward his favourite teacher. “…at least we’re notstuck in the classroom all day.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she mumbled unconvincingly andher shaky hand starting fiddling with the clasp of her robe.

Newt wanted tokick himself.

He had been so eager at the prospect of looking for Grindylows thathe had not thought how terrified Leta must feel about having to go so deep inthe water. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t made progress through the years. The firsttime he noticed her, at the young age of eleven, she had been surrounded by somesnickering students and an out of his depth groundskeeper, huddled on the groundwith her hands over her ears, sobbing and shaking and absolutely hysterical atthe idea of having to get into one of the boats that traditionally carried thefirst years across the lake to the castle. For a while, she would sit under thetrees if he decided to walk or swim in the lake, slowly getting closer to theedge each time until, one year, the giant squid he had been petting tenderlywrapped one of its tentacles around her ankle and dragged her in too. He had hastilypulled her up and was surprised to find her laughing joyfully and since thenshe would join him, provided he held her hand or she gripped on to his arm. Sofar, the deepest she’d managed was up to her waist which wouldn’t be any helpto her in today’s exercise.

He noticed her other hand was clasped tightly in afist and he quickly took it in his own before her fingernails could cut anydeeper into her palm again. He made a mental note to swipe some dittany fromProfessor Prendergast’s stores later that night.

“I’ve got a plan!” he announced staring back out overthe lake.

“How many detentions can we expect from this plan?”she quipped, holding her wand between her lips while she pinned her hair out of her face. “Obviously, I’m in but I need to shift my timetable around if we’readding more punishments into the week on top of the regular ones.”

“A plan for Dumbledore’s challenge today,” hecontinued. “I’m going to have jellylegs after swimming and catching the littlebugger so if you wait by the waters edge, you can run him to Dumbledore.”

Leta doe-eyes looked both in awe and full of sorrow asshe stared up at him and she squeezed his hand appreciatively. She cleared herthroat and quickly snapped back to her playful self.

“Well, at least I’ll see you coming!” she jested athis Hufflepuff yellow swimsuit.

Their laughter was interrupted by the raucous noise oftheir Defense Against the Dark Arts class whooping and yelling as they tumbleddown toward the lake with Professor Dumbledore strolling along behind them.

Newt angled himself between Leta and a group of Gryffindorsthat had set their sights on her from the moment they had seen her panic attackin first year as well. He felt Leta’s hand go slack, but he kept ittightly clasped within his. For a long time, he assumed her always sidling awayfrom him around people was because someone like her would be embarrassed to beseen with the likes of him but eventually, and far more horrifyingly,discovered it was because she felt far too poisonous to inflict herself on him especiallyin front of other students who may turn their attention to him as well. And ofcourse, he wouldn’t let that stand.

Leta used her free hand to wrap her robe more tightlyaround her as they smirked and leered at her like a dugbog hungrily seeking outa mandrake.

“Good afternoon,” Professor Dumbledore said cheerily,planting himself in the middle of the hostility. “As most of you have rememberedkeenly it seems, I’m in need of a Grindylow for my third-year class and thoughtit may be a great opportunity for you guys to dabble in some field work. As Isaid at the end of our last lesson, the first pair to stun and retrieve a Grindylowwill get a little prize. I have been able to procure some Gillyweed for thetask.”

There was a scuffle as the teenagers tried to pair upand Dumbledore peered around knowing that the class was an odd number, but hiseyes fell on Newt and Leta who had made no movement at all as the classshuffled around.

“Ah, Miss Lestrange, Mr Scamander,” he smiled at them.“Maybe we should give the other students a fighting chance this time and splityou both up. Just for fun.”

Just for fun?! Newt thought in horror andheld on to her tighter.

“Everett!” Dumbledore clapped and saw that theextremely competitive Hufflepuff Beater had been the left-over student which hewasn’t even offended by since he was very self-aware of his win or die trying attitude.

Newt sighed in relief knowing that Everett, unlike manyof his fellow House members, had no problem with Leta. He occasionally talkedto her when Leta came to watch Newt practice with the Quidditch team and evensourced a spare Hufflepuff scarf for her to wear during games. Everett would haveno problem leaving Leta up here if it bettered his chances of winning.

“We’ll show some House solidarity and spirit today. Newtand Everett, you can join up and Leta, if you’d like to tack on the end of a Slytherinpair.”

The Slytherins in their class were not as outwardlycruel to Leta as some students from other House were but instead showed theirdisdain, and slight fear, of her through avoiding or ignoring her entirely as if she were something particularly unpleasant.

“I’ll go by myself if it’s all the same, Professor,”Leta said blankly and Newt turned to stare at her disbelievingly, but she smiledreassuringly at him.

“That would be fine, if that is what you’d prefer,”Dumbledore granted cheerfully and went about recapping all they had learnedabout Grindylows in their previous lessons and handing out portions of theslimy looked plant.

Newt used the opportunity to turn to Leta with panicin his eyes. “You-you can’t go by yourself!”

“I won’t be,” she countered. “You’ll be down theretoo.”

He couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest when shesaid that so trustingly, but it did little to ease his own worries.

“Only if you’re sure, you can stick with Everett and I,but if you start to feel-”

“Uh,” she frowned but her smile was playful as she bitinto the Gillyweed. “So, you can both steal my glory when I catch the Grindylow? No way, Scamander.”

Newt scoffed and took a section for himself. “You’rehardly serious, right now.”

“We’ll see, I suppose,” she sighed and took off herrobe. “But remember, you’ve already divulged all your weakness to the enemy,Jellylegs, with no idea of my capabilities.”

“That’s true, you do have the upper hand in someareas. You could always annoy the Grindylow until it lets up and just goes withyou,” Newt teased as he felt the gills start to spread across his neck.

Everett clapped approvingly as he jogged over to them,luckily for Newt, who had only just caught himself before he could tell Leta shelooked very pretty as her own gills blossomed across her neck and cheeks thoughshe had fortunately been examining the webbing between her fingers to notice him staring.

“Yes! Finally, the Slytherin vs Hufflepuff showdown we’veall been waiting for,” he pitched as he dragged Newt away to the starting area.“The day has finally come where we find out who the superior budding magizoologistis.”

For all the tactics Everett had attempted to drillinto a preoccupied and inattentive Newt, the spirited and muscular Beater was swiftlyleft behind as he was easily the slowest swimmer of the lot. Newt naturallylooked around for Leta, but the sunlight only cast an eerily glow no further thana few feet in front of him even with the help of the Gillyweed.

He couldn’t see the particularly vicious group of Gryffindorseither which made his heart start to race but before he could panic, he decidedhe had a far better chance tracking a Grindylow and getting this whole ordealover with before anything bad could happen.

It didn’t take long at all for him to find the one hehad been tracking, tangled among roots and stems looking characteristicallydisgruntled. Newt apologetically cast a stunning spell at the creature but wincedwhen the poor thing was hit in the back at the same time by the same red jet oflight that Newt had cast at it. Newt glanced around to see who had cast the samespell and he was drawn to the blurry image of Leta who had been tracking thecreature from the opposite direction. It took her a little longer to noticewhere the other stunning spell had come from but her eyes widened when theyfell on Newt and he was about to motion if she was okay when she started swimmingquickly toward the stunned Grindylow.

He grinned and started kicking as fast he could aswell. Unfortunately for Leta, Newt was a good head taller than her and was ableto stretch out twice as far despite her head start. He reached out and Leta’s hand,a fraction of a second too late, came down on top of his as he grabbed theGrindylow. He beamed across at her with a triumphant smirk that saw her eyesnarrow and her nose crinkle up in a scowl that would look no more threateningon a baby mooncalf. With the hand covering his on the Grindylow, she threaded theirfingers together as best as she could manage with the webbing and yanked himforward with such force, he thought she was trying to headbutt him when shegently pressed her lips to his.

If he could muster a coherent thought he would wonderif he had been hit with a stunning spell, or perhaps the Gillyweed was wearingoff, either way he was completely frozen and it felt like all the air had disappearedfrom his body and even if he had not been floating in the lake, it still would’vefelt like he had been un-anchored from the earth. The situation finally washed through him and he felt so foolish for wasting what was, in reality, likelyonly a second or two frozen like the Grindylow between them.

Newt lifted his hand to weave through her floatinghair, or brush against her jaw, he hadn’t quite decided yet, and he leanedcloser to press into her kiss, clumsily squishing their noses together, but he felther smile against his lips before he got the chance to return her ministrationsand ended up kissing her teeth. A stream of bubbles escaped her mouth when shelaughed victoriously as she tugged the Grindylow from below his slackened hand,which he had sought to appoint to the far more important task of holding her faceinstead and kicked her way to the top of the lake leaving him floating dumbfoundedby himself.

“What happened?!” Everett rounded on Newt as theywalked back to the castle. “You were ahead! Then you were just floating about!”

“Lestrange probably used Stupefy on him,” one of the Hufflepuffs muttered behindthem and a few nodded in agreement much to his annoyance but Everett let out asnort before Newt could turn around.

“Stupefy,” Everett scoffed. “Yeah, stunned bysomething alright but not by Lestrange’s wand.As if she would harm a single hair on his head…A sad day for Hufflepuff today,one of our own thwarted by the likes of pretty, Slytherin girl.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty, Polkinghorne?” Leta exclaimedteasingly as she caught up with them. She had put her robe back on, but she wasstill dripping wet and Newt muttered a drying spell that made her hair twice asbig once he was finished.

“No,” Everett said curtly. “I think Scamander thinksyou’re pretty, but don’t let that get to your head either, Lestrange, he calleda Flobberworm ‘pretty girl’ the other day in Herbology.”

The other Hufflepuffs departed, shaking their head atNewt as they passed.

“Well, we certainly have something to discuss…”

Leta wentstraight into defence.

“What?! I’m sorry! It’s not fair that you’re alreadythe size of a Quidditch goalpost! That has no bearing at whether I’m better atzoology and tracking than you.”

“Mmm, but you using your…” he awkwardly gestured toher entire being. “…is?”

“Yes, actually. If you’re so easily distracted thanyou’re going to get gobbled up by a Kelpie or barbequed by a Hungarian Horntail.If anything, you should be thanking me. I don’t know why you’re so scandalisedactually, I am a Slytherin, you know. Resourcefulness.And it was a risk on my behalf, too, you know. Do you know Wesley Cavanaugh wasright behind you?”

The image of Leta, suspended under the lake in dappledsunlight with her hair floating like a siren around her while pressing sweet, tentativekisses to Wesley Cavanaugh’s lips nearly unglued him but he shook the thoughtaway and put his hands on her shoulders.

“If you would slow down, what I wanted to discuss was…you were under the lake!”

She looked as though she might ascend as Newt staredat her in awe and pride.

“I know,” she exhaled, in shock herself. “I’m postponingthe panic attack I’ve been on the verge of the past half an hour until I replenishmy blood sugar and then it’s just going to be tears and screaming for about anhour and then I’ll be good.”

“Okay,” Newt chuckled and led her down the corridor. “Well,then lets find some cauldron cakes and then go down to the Quidditch pitch andscream for a while.”

#prompts #fantastic beasts #the crimes of grindelwald #leta lestrange #newt scamander #whats the ship name?#newt x leta #newleta #newta #lewt #fbwtft #fbtcog #fb spoilers #kinda #theyre so cute what the heck #not my gif its a pinterest find #prompt

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iris-writes-things · 5 years

Text

Two Guys and a Baby: Day 2

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut, or read up to 2 chapters ahead as a $1 Patreon patron!

"It probably won't come as a surprise when I say that uncle Tony and I come from a long line of witches and heretics." Ezra shot Crowley an amused look. No, he didn’t seem surprised at all.

Or, Crowley learns a thing or two about his heritage.

Chapter 3 of 20 Ongoing 1865 words Romance/Humor

It was Sunday, and incidentally it was also the first day in years that Crowley woke not from an alarm, but from the rays of sunlight that were cast through his bedroom window. After he had changed Adam into his striped pyjamas and put him to sleep in his portable crib at eight in the evening last night, he himself had spent two more hours sketching at his drawing board before finally calling it a night as well. And so, he managed to wake up of natural causes, five minutes before his alarm was meant to go off.

A pair of gangly legs swung over the side of his bed, and Crowley sauntered into the living room to check on Adam, pulling on a pair of trousers along the way. The boy still slept peacefully, tightly clutching his a vaguely dog-shaped plush animal, which was simply named Dog according to his mums. He gently poked one of the rosy cheeks and pondered briefly what could have become of him, had he found someone nice to settle down with and adopted a child for themselves. The thought only stung more with the realization that he had, in fact, found someone nice to settle down with, but was too much of a coward to say it.

His eye fell on the freshly dusted-off drawing board that stood not too far away from the crib. A few sketches hung, taped to the surface, while others were crumpled up and strewn across the floor. Perhaps it had been too long, perhaps he had lost his touch. Perhaps he simply didn’t know what to do with a historical non-fiction cover. He rather liked minimalism, Swiss graphic design and Bauhaus for their simplicity, but none of that would suit an epic about a witch that blew up an entire town in the seventeenth century. He needed something a little more bombastic. Something he could hide more meaning in than was really necessary. Something—

Knocking at the door derailed his train of thought. Upon realizing that Adam was still sleeping, and Crowley quite liked the boy that way (being low-maintenance and all), the man ran to the door to open it as fast as humanly possible.

“Anathema? What are you doing here?”

A single bushy, yet stylishly plucked eyebrow raised on the girl’s face before her face pulled apart into a wicked grin.

“Just checking if the kid made it through the night.”

Crowley sighed and stepped aside to let her in.

“I’ll have you know, he’s sleeping like a… baby.” He supplied when no sufficient metaphor came to mind.

Anathema crossed the room to peer over the edge of the crib. “Oh, he’s the cutest!” She whispered. “He reminds me of the babe, you know?”

“What babe?”

“The babe with the power.” Anathema smirked.

“No. And by the way, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t wake him up. I was trying to do some thinking.”

“Thinking or overthinking?” Anathema asked carefully. The girl knew him too well for her own good.

“Thinking.” Crowley lied. “Ezra asked me to make a proposal,”

Anathema visibly perked up.

“for his next book cover.”

And she immediately deflated again.

“I mean it, Anathema. I have no idea how to make a cover for a medieval themed book about the most metal witch that ever roamed this Earth.”

Anathema scooped Adam out of his crib and walked over to the drawing board, holding him ever so gently.

“‘The Nice And Accurate Vengeance Of Agnes Nutter, Witch’?” She read aloud.

“That’s the title.” Crowley nodded. “I don’t know why, but that name rings a bell. Like I’ve heard it before.”

His niece looked up at him.

“That’s because you have.” She said as she planted Adam back in her uncle’s arms and started for the flat’s door. “Call Ezra, tell him I’ve got something that’ll make him go weak at the knees when he gets his hands on it. I’ll meet you guys at the bookshop later today.” She said with absolute certainty.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Home. I have to beg to mum to let me take something out of the house.”

"So, do you have any idea what Anathema wanted to show me?" Ezra asked from above, standing on a ladder to dust off the tops of his shelves. It was just the three of them. The bookshop was closed for the day, and the two of them had just split a bánh mì between themselves as their lunch.

"Not in the slightest." Crowley said. He was sat in the windowsill beside bookshop's door with Adam in his lap, who held and drank his bottle of formula on his own. Adam was a very capable boy for his age, Crowley noted.

There was a loud ringing as a certain teenager stormed through the shop's front door with a gigantic grocery bag, despite the 'closed' sign being up.

"We're closed." The shopkeeper droned on auto-pilot.

"Hi Anathema."

"Hi Ezra, hi uncle Tony."

Ezra turned to look at the new visitor and smiled before he confidently let himself slide down the ladder.

"My, how you've grown up, miss Device." Ezra beamed. "How long has it been since you first came here? Nine years?"

"Ten, actually." Anathema said. "Uncle Tony still owes me that book he never bought me because you two were too busy talking."

"Does she always hold grudges like this?" Ezra turned to Crowley, who simply said

"Yes."

Meanwhile, Anathema hoisted the grocery bag onto the counter and produced a thick binder. This one, Crowley recognized. It was a genealogy project she had put together for school several years ago.

They both watched in suspense as she scanned the meticulous index before she leafed through, looking for a very specific page.

"It probably won't come as a surprise when I say that uncle Tony and I come from a long line of witches and heretics."

Ezra shot Crowley an amused look. Crowley blushed. No, he didn’t seem surprised at all.

"At some point, I'm pretty sure the Illuminati got involved as well, but without hard evidence I wasn't allowed to include it."

"The point, Anathema." Crowley urged as he willed the redness from his face.

"Right, the point is," Anathema said as she opened the binder, pulled a page from it and held it out to Ezra. "Agnes Nutter was an ancestor of ours."

Ezra turned as white as a sheet, the author took the page from her and read it over. And again. And again. Everything checked out. From the name to the family relations to the date and the cause of death.

"I can't believe my eyes..." He said breathlessly.

Anathema took the office chair from behind the till and put it behind Ezra.

"You're going to want to sit down for this one," She said.

And he did.

“Because here’s the kicker. Agnes wasn't just a witch. She was a prophetess. She had visions of the future and knew she would one day be burned at the stake." Anathema said as she shoved the binder aside and went back to rummaging in the bag. "So, the day before she knew she was to be burned, she sent her most prized possession to her son-in-law's farm a few towns away." The girl pulled something from the bag. It was dark and large, and judging from Anathema's face, it was heavy, too.

"It can't be..." Ezra gasped.

"Oh, but it is." Anathema grinned. "A book containing Agnes Nutter’s spells, visions and memoirs. All handwritten in old-timey English. It was a heirloom granny Ashtoreth left to me when she found out about my fascination with magic and stuff."

“Dear, did you know any of this?” Ezra asked as he spun his chair around to face the other man. The look of curiosity and genuine excitement on his face did something to Crowley’s heart that he would never admit to another living person.

“Again, I had no idea.” He said, holding up his free hand in self-defense. “Except for Anathema's childhood obsession with magic. She made sure everyone knew about that."

“Granny said the book was meant for my eyes only, but I'm giving you special permission to use it in your research.” Anathema smiled proudly.

Ezra stood from his chair and walked over. He snatched a pair of cotton gloves from behind the counter and carefully started to leaf through it.

“Anathema, this is exactly what I needed. This is going to fill in so many blanks, I… I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“No need to thank me.” She said casually as she stepped around the counter. “Just promise to be careful with it and give it back when you’re done with your book.”

Without another word, Ezra pulled the girl into what looked like a bone-crushing hug while Anathema giggled and patted his back.

“Well, thank you anyway. Have a look around, you can take home any one book you like. You deserve it.”

“I think I will!” Anathema said, clasping her hands together in excitement before shooting her uncle another glare. “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, by the way.”

With a pout, Crowley wiggled his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Fine, pick out a second book while you’re at it.”

A few hours later, while Adam napped on the sofa in Ezra's apartment, Crowley sat at the desk in the back room, next to the shopkeeper himself, who did his taxes. He rubbed at his forehead in an attempt to remedy an oncoming headache as he scribbled in his sketchbook in the dim, orange light of a single light bulb that hung overhead.

"That was exciting, wasn't it?" Ezra asked. He still had that blissful smile on his face, and Crowley knew it wasn't going away any time soon.

"Yeah," Crowley muttered sarcastically, "nothing more exciting than finding out that you descended from a medieval witch annex prophetess that blew up an entire village and all the people in it."

"Come on, dear, it's quite alright." Ezra said as he placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder and squeezed in reassurance. "I mean, it happened three hundred years ago. It’s not like anyone could come after you."

A chill ran down his spine from the touch alone. He wanted to tell the other that no, that was exactly the point, but he wasn’t about to have that conversation.

He thought he lucked out with his last name, though. After all, ‘My name is Anthony, but you may call me Crowley’ sounded infinitely cooler than ‘My name is Anthony Nutter’. Or ‘Device’, for that matter. Enough people called him a ‘tool’ as it was.

"How is your drawing coming along?" Ezra asked without looking up from his laptop.

Finally. Something Crowley could technically say something intelligent about. If it were anybody ask him.

"Not as well as I hoped it would. I just don't know where to start. Nothing I come up with seems to suit the theme."

"Well… Maybe just give it time. You're good. I'm absolutely positive you can do it.”

Crowley smiled.

"Glad one of us has that kind of faith in me."

#fanfic #good omens #ineffable husbands #human AU #I should probably start getting work done on the actual novel I'm supposed to write for school but #this is fun too

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ladysalvaterre-blog · 5 years

Text

a walk on the wildeside

chapter 6

A sharp double knock on my door awakened me and I immediately knew who was at my door. At the same moment, I wondered why exactly my grandmother Eleanora Kennedy Garrison had decided to grace me with her presence. I quickly shot up, ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to groom it, and then moved to the door to face my formidable grandmother.

“Grandmother.” I say with a smile as I open the door.

“Addison Kennedy, acting sloth-like is highly uncouth for a woman of your age. You should be up with the sun to make the most of your day.” My grandmother says, floating into my room to perch herself on my reading chair.

“Yes Grandmother.” I mutter under my breath.

I close the door to see her arch a perfectly groomed eyebrow in my direction.

“Nothing Grandmother.” I say.

“Well then, what is this I’ve heard from your sister about a falling out with your father’s friend’s son?” That’s my grandmother, short and sweet and to the point.

“He crossed a line that he shouldn’t have, and that’s that.” I said quickly, really hoping to avoid a Grandmother Inquisition.

“Then what’s this I hear about you fighting with his mother. I mean, Georgians can be highly uncouth at times, take your father for instance, but a lady never snaps at an elder.”

I hold back on reciting the fact that her grandmother by marriage, my first namesake, was from North Carolina. Then I do exactly the opposite of what I should have done. I snap at my grandmother.

“Well Grandmother, I think and exception can be made in this case where the elder was trying to replace my irreplaceable mother!”

“Young lady, what has gotten into you? I will admit, I do not think highly of your father, but he would never replace Helen. Frankly, I would have him thrown out on his rear if he ever attempted such a thing. Nevertheless, it seems in the years you’ve been away from home, your manners have deteriorated. Where’s this husband of yours? Why isn’t he here keeping your Georgian genes in line?” Grandmother asked.

“He isn’t here, Grandmother, because we are getting a divorce. He seems to think that I serve a better purpose sitting pretty in New York City rather than seeing my family here.”

“Ah, I see. The Beausejours are a respectable family but they have always been greedy for fame. No wonder that boy married you, your mother does come from one of the most respectable families on the East Coast. Nonetheless, this does not excuse your recent behavior. I may be old, but my brain still functions perfectly. Now, Addison Kennedy, what has happened between you and the mother-replacer’s son?”

I sigh in defeat, there is no getting out of this one.

“He confronted me over an issue from six years ago that was never resolved.” I said quietly.

My grandmother let out a barely audible gasp. “Dearest Addison, please tell me that this issue did not happen after your mother died.”

“I’m afraid I cannot Grandmother. In fact, it was a mere two weeks after she died, at graduation.” I told her, upping my usual vocabulary to her level.

“What happened my dear?” Grandmother asked, composing herself.

I steeled myself for the flood of painful memories about to inundate my brain.

I walked up to the podium in my blue graduation cap and gown to give my valedictorian speech. I looked out in the crowd to the three people who I wanted to see. I saw a thumbs up from Ellie, still wearing all black. Personally I would rather be in all black too, but I was lucky that my school’s graduation gowns were a dark blue. I looked to Lucas, and saw a big smile on his face. Then I looked to Dad, for whom it was surprising to be out of the house after two weeks. He still had on a dark suit but he smiled a weak smile to ease my conscience. Then the woman sitting next to him caught my eye, she was giving him an evil side eye. Then I saw a man sitting behind my dad, boring holes into the back of his head with his eyes. I lifted my eyes to scan the crowd and saw so many people judging Dad. Tears pricked the back of my eyes, and I began my speech, since edited since the death of my mother.

After we all graduated, finally free of high school and childhood, I went to my dad and hugged him tight, afraid after these two weeks he’d float away. Ellie came up behind me and sandwiched me between herself and Dad. Very glad I had worn waterproof mascara that morning, I started crying.

“Your mom would have been so proud Adds. She was even planning to give you this.” My dad told me, pulling a box out of his jacket pocket. I recognized that box from when my mother would get ready for big parties when I was little, always letting me hold the box if I pinky promised to be super careful.

“You probably already know this, but these are your great-great-grandmother Mary Addison’s pearls, which she brought with her from South Carolina when she married your great-great-grandfather. Your mom said from the moment you were born that she wanted you to have this necklace. She always thought you’d look so beautiful in it.”

Even though it was small, I saw a small tear trickle down my father’s face, probably from remembering her telling him about that.

He held out the blue velvet box to me. I extended my hands to carefully take the box from him, then I gingerly opened it. There, nestled in a little bed of silk, was my namesake’s prized possession. A thin strand of Chinese river pearls, owned by her adventurous older sister, who traveled to Asia in the late eighteenth century. My mother had always told me the story of my namesake and her precious pearls. The reason they were so special was not because how rare and special they were, but because that was the one thing her parents let her have to remind her of her sister after Sarah Elizabeth (the older sister) died in childbirth. Mary Addison was closer with Sarah Elizabeth than she was with any other of her ten siblings. If Mary Addison had to have one possession of her older sister’s, it was those pearls. They had been passed down to the next female in the line of Garrisons. When Mary Addison’s son, David, married Helena Isaacson, they were her something old for her wedding. When Helena’s son married my grandmother Eleanora Gilles, Helena gave her the pearls as her something old. When my mother married my father, my grandmother gave her the pearls as her something old.

But the next thing my father told me shook me so deeply, I couldn’t remember any of the history behind the pearls.

“She wanted to give you these early because, being a mother, she already knew it was only a matter of time before you got married. She even said she knew exactly who you’d marry.”

My throat went dry and my stomach flipped. She thought I was going to marry Lucas?

“Will you put them on?” My dad asked quietly. “You already look so much like her, I just want to see you in something so important to her.”

I nodded, swept my hair up in one hand, then turned around. My father tenderly clasped the three hundred year old Garrison (technically Shelton) pearls around my neck, and I felt like I was choking on all the expectations of my heritage.

I gave my father a quick hug and left to find Lucas.

I walked around the gym, then saw Lucas getting a hug from his mom. He turned to see me, then smiled broadly. At that sight, my stomach sunk lower, and I couldn’t swallow with the pearls hanging around my neck like chains. I slowly walk towards him, all the thoughts of my family swirling in my overwhelmed brain.

He goes to give me a hug but I hold out my hand, stopping him.

“What’s wrong Adds?” He asked, clearly surprised I refused one of his hugs, which I never do.

“Goodbye, Lucas.” I say shakily before turning on my heel and walking away.

I can already feel my heart and brain start to clash, I want to ease my father’s pain, but then again I want Lucas, and I’ve always wanted Lucas. Then I think about how sad my father looked behind his pitiful smile during my speech. My thoughts moved to a guy my grandmother had mentioned a couple of time, Andrew Beausejour. His dad Ferdinand is a big wig lawyer who spends most of his time between NYC and Saratoga Springs. My grandfather almost married Ferdinand’s sister Alba. Andrew came from a good family, it’d be a socially advantageous match. I let my eyes skim around the room to find Andrew, looking sharp in his custom Tom Ford suit, hugging his mother Maria. They would help Dad’s status, me making the match my mother didn’t. I might just have to look into that.

The tears I had fought to hold back flooded down my face, trailing the first few that slipped out.

“Addison dear, please don’t cry.” My grandmother said, surprisingly quick to comfort me despite her age. She wrapped her arms around me in the same hug my mother used to give me. “Everything will be alright darling. He’ll realize how sorry you are and come back, good as new.”

“But Grandmother, he won’t,” I sobbed. “I tried to avoid the question and that made him angry so he snapped, then I snapped, and then when I said maybe I wanted a change, he told me maybe I should go to Georgia and die like mom.”

I felt my grandmother’s spine steel, ever the protective mother of her only daughter.

“That boy has crossed the line.” Grandmother said, her voice so cold it could rival the Arctic Circle.

“Grandmother I miss him! I miss his hugs, I miss his smile, and I miss him being there for me whenever I needed him! Why was I so stupid?” I sob.

“Addison Kennedy Porter, look at me.” She says sternly. I tilt my head from my position to look at her. “You are not stupid. You were young and dealing with the loss of your mother. Your father was suffering greatly and you wanted to ease his pain at whatever the cost. You made a mistake. You have admitted that. Today some words that cannot be taken back have been said, but that is what happens when people who love each other clash. There are bound to be wounds inflicted. Quite frankly, I saw worse fights between your father and mother. When those two fought, it was like World War III, but that was because they were so close. Addison, please do not let childhood mistakes and words said in anger separate you two. I will admit, I am not a fan of this Lucas Wilde because of what he has said, but from what your sister tells me, he loves you very much and never wishes to hurt you intentionally in his right mind. Your return to Saratoga Springs has brought back all of those feelings of pain from your high school graduation. He’ll come around and realize the error of his way, believe me Addison, he will.”

My sobs eventually subsided, but I was still in awe. My grandmother was not all the stuck up snob I had believed her to be.

“I love you Grandmother.” I whispered as I leaned into her again.

“I love you too Addison Kennedy.” She said to me, wrapping her arms around me. I felt proud to bear this woman’s middle name.

Then I made a decision that could mess me up big time. I decided to go find Lucas.

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joohoneyhoe · 6 years

Text

Infinity.

Throw away your fear,

we can do it, it’s okay.

All the keys are in your possession.

[song inspiration: EXO - Monster & EXO - Power]

info: park chanyeol x oc genre: sci-fi!au, smut, oral, fingering, gore, death, action, angst word count: 5.3k a/n: this is dedicated to the lovely @bread-jinie, you deserve it.

“How do you always get us into these situations, Chanyeol?!”

I shouted over the gunfire, bright red blast crashing next to my head as I crouched behind the knocked over table in our living area. Chanyeol was directly to my left, taking cover behind a fallen filing cabinet, his dark eyes tearing into me in irritation.

“I didn’t fucking ask you to be on my ship, did I?” he barked back, coming up and taking aim, hitting one of the raiders dead center in the t-zone, their alien head flinging back and splattering blue brain matter against the nearest wall.

“I didn’t fucking ask to be here either!”

I screamed back, standing tall and mirroring his kill shot, more brain matter getting all over the ship’s walls. The blast finally stilled, making the both of us come out of our hiding places, promptly facing off with each other. He was much taller than myself, freakishly tall, as I always would say to him.

He hated that.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that your daddy runs the Diamond Corp, I would have dropped you out into deep space a long time ago.” he snarled, his lip curling as he stood dangerously close to me.

“That’s if I hadn’t killed you myself first, Park.” I spat back, lifting my chin stubbornly. He spun on his heels, stalking off towards the cockpit and leaving me standing there staring after him. I quickly shot off after him, following as he sat down in the pilots seat.

“So what, you’re just going to leave me to clean up the mess out there?!” I complained, him not even bothering to turn and face me.

“Actually, I’m getting us the fuck out of here before more of them show up. That okay with you, Wren? I’d rather not have my ship taken over by Hittmu Raiders and killed, fuck you very much.”

I huffed loudly at him, storming back off and heading to my sleeping quarters. He could clean up the mess on his own if he wanted to be a asshole. I was done for the day, especially after the stunt he had pulled that brought them to us in the first place. I sealed my door behind me, slumping down onto my bed, arms crossed and brow creased in irritation.

I’d been on this godforsaken ship with him for months, no end in sight for our goal, which was to find the Hittmu Raider’s base of operation. It seemed we were no closer to finding them than we were months ago, when we first started our mission.

Letting out a loud exasperated sigh, I began stripping myself of my blood splattered clothes, tossing them into a pile before walking into my bathroom completely bare. I switched the shower on, the spray of fresh hot water washing over me, relaxing my tensed up body as I stood beneath it, pondering what had just transpired.

I couldn’t explain why I detested Chanyeol so much, not even to myself. There was just something about him that made me crazy in so many ways, and I didn’t even have a valid reason as to why. He and I were the same age, trained in the same class, were the top two trainees of all our peers and the best at what we did. The only difference between the two of us, was I was born on this planet and he was brought here by slave traders, stolen away from his family on Earth.

There was no way he didn’t harbor resentment towards me, considering it would seem to anyone else that I was just handed everything. That I didn’t have to work for it the same way he did, but he was wrong. I worked just as hard to get where I was in this job, my dad never handed me anything. He was a hardass, but he did it because he wanted me to be the best I could be. He didn’t go about it in the most productive way, but he always meant well.

Maybe it was the constant need to outdo each other, or his lack of seriousness when it came to our job and my low tolerance for screwing around. He was always fooling around, laughing and teasing, but he never failed to get the job done and done right. He never did anything that would put me in direct harm’s way, even though his decision making and methods were questionable. He always got us out of it though, it never failed.

So, why did he bother me so much? He had literally never done anything wrong, he was just being himself. He never let me get hurt in all the months we had worked together, he made sure of it. Maybe I was too hard on him.

Maybe, I owed him an apology.

When I finally emerged from my room, black pants and just a big shirt on as I towel dried my hair, I found him sitting at the table cleaning his most prized possession.

Elizabeth, his gun.

He didn’t even glance up at me, too busy in his own world to acknowledge my presence. The “mess” from our threat earlier was already all taken care of, everything back in its place as if it had never even occurred. Setting my damp towel down on the back of the chair to his right, I pulled it out and sat down.

“What do you want now?” he grumbled, making me feel a pang of guilt about my behavior towards him earlier.

“I’m sorry.”

His gun clanked loudly against the metal table as it fumbled between his long nimble fingers, eyes wide in shock at my apology. He carefully pushed it aside, hands clasped in front of him as he looked up at me. I felt my heart skip a beat as he gazed at me, his eyebrows raised, making him look like a hurt puppy almost.

“I know–I know it’s not easy living in such close quarters with me, Wren. I don’t mean to irritate you. Well, at least not all of the time.” he joked, a smile tugging at his lips. I chuckled lowly, eyes looking down at a burn on the table from enemy blaster fire earlier, fingers tracing over the scorch marks.

“I think we just haven’t had the chance to try and understand one another, Chanyeol. Between constant firefights, the pressure we’re under from the Diamond Corp, my father and ourselves. It hasn’t left much room for anything but stress and animosity. Plus, we come from very different lifestyles, and it shows most of the time.

As much as I want to be the best at what I do, I know…I know you deserve that just as much as I do, if not more. You’ve worked hard to get here, so have I. But, my struggles have never been the same as yours, and I think I forget that too often. But, our drive is the same, our goals are the same. To be the best, to do our best, to succeed.

I can’t even fathom how you manage to be as happy and carefree as you are, considering the hand you were dealt in this life. You always find a way to make things bearable, even if I hate admitting that. You’ve never failed to keep your head in the right mindset, to keep moving forward. I admire that most about you, Chanyeol. It’s something I struggle with, and I could definitely learn a thing or two from you.

I know we don’t exactly see eye to eye, or get along for that matter. But…I want to try, if you’re willing to put aside our differences with me.”

He sat in silence for a moment, very obviously mulling over what I had just said to him. He still looked very conflicted, but there was something else there too. I couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Wren, I-”

He was interrupted by our emergency monitor connected to headquarters going off, the light flashing a bright red as it rang out through the ship. We both bolted up from our seats, rushing to the console. Chanyeol opened the channel, the connection going in and out, the picture glitching as we heard gunfire in the background.

My father’s face came into frame, my hand flying to my mouth as I gasped in terror. You could see large flames behind him, blood trickling down from a gash in his forehead as the chaos continued behind him. I felt Chanyeol’s hand on the small of my back, a gesture of comfort as he leaned in towards the screen.

“Dad, are you okay? What’s going on?!” I exclaimed, tears brimming my eyes as I looked at my father, who was clearly in pain.

“Wren, my sweet girl. I love you. Please, always remember that.” he choked out, tears streaming down his cheeks, a sob escaping my chest. Chanyeol pulled me into his side, hand cradling my head as I looked at the screen.

I knew my dad wasn’t coming out of this alive.

“Chanyeol,” his eyes roamed over to him, turning his attention there.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Get as far away as you can, where no one can find you. They’re coming, and you’ll be the only ones left for them to come after. Please, protect my baby, Chanyeol. I know you can.” he pleaded, pulling himself back together, bringing his gun up.

“I love you, Wren. So much.”

The screen went black, a strangled cry leaving my throat. Chanyeol wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. I gripped him tightly around the waist, crying into his chest as he held me.

“Fuck, Wren, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he whispered into my hair.

I don’t know how long we remained there, wrapped up in each other, but I was beyond grateful he was with me. He put his hands on my shoulders, pulling me away from him so he could look at me.

“I’m going to get us out of here, as far away as I possibly can. Do you need me to take you to your room? I can.” he offered, his voice calm and soothing in a sense. I stared blankly up at him, shock seemingly paralyzing me where I was. I couldn’t respond, I was just stuck, staring at the man in front of me.

Just then, a large explosion shook the ship, startling both of us from our trance. Chanyeol’s eyes widened, immediately pushing me against the nearest wall to keep us from toppling over. I white knuckled the front of his jacket, gazing up at him with concern.

“Shit, shit, shit! They found us already, fuck! They must have been tracking us the entire time.” he exclaimed, his hold on me tightening as he looked around for any structural damage.

“Wren, I know that-that what just happened is a shock, but I need you right now. I need your help. I can’t fend them off on my own.” he pleaded, hand cupping my cheek, the deep pools of his eyes searching my face. I let out a deep breath, brow furrowing in determination.

“Let’s end this. Right now.” he grinned, letting go of me and retrieving his gun from the table.

“There’s the Wren I know.” I spun, running to my room to grab my guns before meeting him. He took my hand in his, tugging me with him towards the boarding area, meeting them head on. We both found cover on opposite ends of the large room, nodding to each other, signalling that we were ready.

Chanyeol hit the button to the blast doors, them sliding open slowly. The raiders swarmed in, there was at least ten or twelve of them. They looked around, seemingly surprised that the doors opened on their own.

“Welcome to the Black Pearl, motherfuckers.”

Chanyeol yelled, jumping out from his cover, firing off a shot that hit one right between the eyes. His aim was absolutely impeccable, always. The firefight began, blast hitting the walls next to us almost endlessly. There were so many of them and only two of us. It didn’t feel like we could win this, but we weren’t going to give up that easily.

One by one, we slowly took them out until there were no more left standing. We both let out a sigh of relief, thinking we were in the clear, but we were very wrong. Five or six more came running in, someone at the back following close behind.

Sehun.

The leader of the Hittmu Raiders was here, on our ship. The same man we had been searching for, for months. The man who ordered the Diamond Corps demise.

My fathers demise.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Sehun taunted, knowing full well where we were. Chanyeol shook his head no at me, knowing simply by the look on my face, what I wanted to do. I ignored him, stepping out, gun raised and aimed at him.

“There she is. Diamond Corps most prized solider.” he snickered, making my blood boil in anger. Chanyeol appeared from his hiding spot, stepping in front of me protectively.

“Hello, brother.” a growl rumbled in Chanyeol’s chest, his body shaking in anger, hate. I looked up at him in shock, unaware that Sehun was Chanyeol’s flesh and blood. His determination to find him made so much sense now in my mind, all the dots finally connecting.

“You are not my brother. You haven’t been for fifteen years, cocksucker.” he responded, voice low, almost terrifying. I had never seen such hate drip from his lips, not in the entire time I’d known him.

“Is that any way to greet family, Chanyeol? Tsk, tsk. Luckily for you, I’m very forgiving.” I felt his hand on my hip, pushing me behind him even further, making me latch onto his forearm.

“I’ll tell you what, you give me the girl, and I’ll let you live. How’s that sound?” he offered, folding his hands in front of himself professionally, dark eyes piercing, intimidating as he grinned maliciously.

“Fuck you!” he shouted, neck flushing bright red.

“What a shame. I didn’t want to kill you, brother. But, I can’t have you getting in the way of what I’m after anymore. Open fire, boys.”

“Chanyeol!” I screamed, trying to pull him out of the way before the first shot went off, but I wasn’t fast enough. It hit him in the side, singeing his jacket, burning the skin there. I yanked him out of the way, pushing him behind the nearest cover. They continued to fire, sparks flying, shrapnel falling all around us.

“No, no, no. Not you too.” I cried, holding my hand over his now bleeding wound. His fingers came up to cover mine, eyes meeting my stare. He gave me a small smile, eyes going in and out of focus in pain, face contorting slightly.

“Tis but a scratch.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, the firefight around us seemingly fading into the background as he made light of the situation.

“I’m okay. I’ll be okay, Wren.” he reassured. I took a deep breath, getting a good hold on my gun and then taking his from his grasp.

“I need to borrow Elizabeth for a minute.” he nodded, hand moving to cover the spot I had been holding for him, applying the pressure he needed.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, anger fueling my rage. I walked out from my cover, standing tall as I shot them all one by one in the head. Sehun’s surprise wasn’t hidden, him backing away from me as each one of his men collapsed at his feet. When they were all dead, I squared up with him, eyes burning with hate as he looked at me in terror, staring down the barrel of Chanyeol’s gun.

“Say hello to Elizabeth, dickhead.”

The gun went off, his head exploding into a million pieces from the close range, blood splattering my face. I watched his body slowly drop to the floor, staring down at what was left of the man who was responsible for the death of my father and many other’s.

A pair of well weathered hands removed the guns from mine, my head turning to find Chanyeol, eyes full of sympathy. He dropped both weapons to the floor, turning me to face him, hands cupping my cheeks. I could see the admiration in his eyes, and something else.

Suddenly his lips were on mine, kissing me fiercely as he pulled me close. I found myself returning the kiss, hands winding around his waist and gripping him tightly. Suddenly he let out a yelp into my mouth, my hands immediately leaving him. I realized I had touched his wound, my fingers soaked with his blood again.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Chanyeol.” I apologized, taking his hand and tugging him back towards our living area, quickly shutting the blast doors behind us. I sat him down in the nearest chair, then ran off to grab our first aid kit. Kneeling between his legs with a hand on his thigh, I surveyed his wound.

“Well, this is a sight I never thought I’d see.” he remarked, my eyes shooting up to give him a glare.

“Just because you’re hurt, doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass, Park.” he shrugged.

“Fair enough. I’ll be quiet now.”

“Good idea. Now, I need you take off your shirt.” he smirked, receiving a smack to the arm from me.

“Oh, come on! I couldn’t ignore that one!” he complained.

“Just take your fucking shirt off. I’m going to go get us out of here and head towards…somewhere.” I demanded, moving to stand up and walk away. His long fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping me.

“Set our course for Earth.” I stared at him dumbfounded, unsure what to respond with.

“But, Chanyeol-”

“I need you to trust me, Wren. Please.” I brought my free hand to his face, digits pushing that ridiculous blue hair from his eyes.

“Okay. I’ll be back, alright?”

“I’m going to take care of this on my own. You should probably go get cleaned up too, you’ve got blood all over your face. Meet me in my room in an hour, alright?” he proposed, giving me that look I couldn’t place again.

“Okay, Chanyeol.” he released his hold on me, slowly standing up and grabbing the first aid kit as he walked towards his room. I watched him until he disappeared from my sight, curious about his change in demeanor and actions towards me. I shook off the feeling, turning to head to the front of the ship.

I sat myself down in Chanyeol’s usual seat, hastily imputing the coordinates to Earth. I stared down at the console blankly, unsure of what to think of everything that had occured, in such a short amount of time.

Where do we even go from here? Everything that just happened was in heat of the moment, wasn’t it? That kiss didn’t mean anything. It just kind of…happened, right?

After I had taken a shower for the second time that night, I made my way to Chanyeol’s quarters. I knocked lightly on his door, hearing him call for me to come in. Slidding the door open, I found him sitting on his bed, struggling to wrap gauze around his naked waist.

“Chanyeol, why didn’t you let me do that? I told you I would.” I complained, pushing the door shut behind me before moving over to help him. He dropped his hands, sighing loudly in defeat as I carefully dressed his wound, fingers grazing his skin every so often as I did. I kept my eyes on my own hands, not wanting to meet his intense gaze.

“I’m sorry you even have to do this for me. It’s kind of embarrassing.” he confessed as I finished up, taking a seat next to him.

“You’d do the same for me.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I would.”

We sat in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just relishing in the calm. His fingers reached over, intertwining with mine. His hand warm, comforting. I finally looked up at him, our eyes meeting.

“I’m sorry about your dad, Wren.”

“I’m sorry about your bother, Chanyeol. I didn’t know.”

“He deserved to die. He’s killed so many innocent people, it was only a matter of time before it caught up to him. I should have told you he was my brother, but I didn’t want you to hate me more than you already did.” I felt incredibly guilty for how I had treated him all these years, never taking the time to understand why he was the way he was.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I was so wrong about everything…about you.” I revealed, bringing my other hand up to run my fingers over the back of his hand that was laced with mine. I rested my head on his shoulder, my cheek pressed against his hot skin.

“It’s okay, Wren. How were you supposed to even know, when I never told you about it? You couldn’t have. It’s not your fault.” he replied softly, head moving to rest against mine.

“I’m sorry.” I choked out, carefully lifting my head to look at him. He gave me a comforting smile, making my insides feel like they were on fire.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. We were both too caught up in our own shit, to see the other for who they truly were. It’s water under the bridge, and now we just need to focus on getting the fuck out of here, okay?” he reasoned, bringing his free hand up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. I nodded in response, feeling my cheeks dust a deep shade of pink at his intimate gesture.

“I should go. You need to rest.” I got to my feet suddenly, getting myself as far away from his touch as I could, moving straight for the door.

“Wren, wait.”

He called out, struggling to stand up, but managing to on his own. He approached, making me back up until I hit the closed door, hands splaying out against the cold steel as I made myself as small as possible. His large hand rested on the surface next to my head, face inches from mine, his warm breath washing over me.

“Don’t go.” he whispered, his other hand reaching up to cup my jaw, thumb skimming over my bottom lip. A tingle shot up my spine, back arching slightly, my reaction making a cocky smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Chanyeol…” my voice cracked, making me suck in a breath as my heart pounded wildly.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, Wren. I was trying to tell you earlier, but obviously we had more important things to deal with at the time. I’ve only ever teased you, because I wanted to hide how much I actually liked you. You’re smart, funny when you want to be, ruthless and an absolute fucking knockout.” I felt my face heat up at his words, probably looking as red as a ripe tomato.

“I want you, and I want you right now. Please, Wren, I’m begging you. I need you.” he nearly whined, making my thighs clench in excitement at his words. His hand moved down to my neck, digits skirting across my skin, moving until they reached the top of my breast, resting there.

“Please.” he asked again, lips brushing against mine.

“Yes.” was all I said.

His lips came crashing down onto mine, pressing the length of his body flush against me. I wound my arms around his neck, fingers tangling into his still slightly damp hair as I deepened the kiss. His tongue stroked mine, dominating easily as he pulled me away from the wall, guiding us towards his bed.

We tumbled down onto the soft mattress, Chanyeol letting out a grunt into my lips, making me pull away. I took his face in my hands, reading his expression carefully.

“Are you okay?” I questioned him, caressing his soft cheek.

“I’m fine. Now, shut up and kiss me.” his mouth slanted over mine in an instant, fingers finding the hem of my shirt and beginning to pull it upward. He moved away, easily tugging it from my body, revealing my lack of undergarments, eyes darkening with pure lust.

Immediately he snaked down my body, lips wrapping around a peaked nipple, pulling it into his mouth as his hands cupped my breast, tongue swirling around it slowly. I pushed myself towards him, hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue did marvelous things to me. Looking down, I found his eyes on me, smiling devilishly as he caught my bud between his teeth. I let out a loud whimper, fingers moving to his hair and tugging.

He let go, swiftly moving to the other one, giving it the same treatment as he rolled my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I couldn’t stop the sounds passing my parted lips, making him groan against my flesh in return. He released me with a loud pop, quickly moving down my body, fingers undoing my pants and yanking them down and off of me.

He tossed them over his shoulder carelessly, making them land somewhere on the floor. His thumbs hooked into the band of my underwear, pulling them off just as fast as he had my pants, my glistening folds now on display to him. I watched him lick those plush lips, eyes taking in all of me as I lay naked before him.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes on, Wren.”

He praised, lips beginning to kiss every inch of my bare skin, fingers leaving a trail of fire behind them. He moved between my legs, wrapping his long arms around my thighs, yanking them open and exposing me fully. His right hand released its hold on me, moving inward to run his finger along my slit. I jerked slightly at the contact, feeling my core stir with anticipation.

“Look how wet you are for me already.” he mused, smiling as he gathered my essence along his finger, then popping it into his mouth, licking off every last drop. My eyes rolled back, a moan bursting from my chest at the sight.

“Chanyeol, stop toying with me. You tease me enough as it is.” I proclaimed, grabbing at my own hair in frustration.

“You didn’t say please.” he taunted, making me whine in complaint.

“Please! Please, Chanyeol!”

“Atta girl.” he dove in full force, tongue finding my swollen bud and starting a full fledged assault on it. My thighs tried closing on their own, but he quickly pushed them apart, licking along my folds with vigor. I squirmed under his tight grasp, feeling the heat building in my abdomen, feeling like a hole was burning right through me.

His lips found my pearl, bringing it between them and sucking roughly, but not an unbearable amount. I grabbed his blue head of hair, rotating my hips against his face, desperate to feel my release. He pulled away unexpectedly, my juices running down his chin, shinning on his swollen lips. He brought two fingers to his mouth, wetting them before bringing them down to my entrance.

He gave me a wicked grin, then roughly inserted both, curling them immediately. I arched off the mattress, my body throbbing as he fucked me with his fingers, mouth moving back to pay attention to my clit. I could feel my core tightening, walls clenching around him. He pulled his mouth away from me again, his voice bringing me out of my trancelike state.

“You’re going to cum all over my fingers, aren’t you, dirty girl?” I panted, chest rising and falling rapidly as he worked those long fingers with skill I had never experienced.

“Yes-yes!” I cried out, tears stinging the corner of my eyes.

“Then do it.” he snarled, teeth clamping down on my inner thigh, curling his digits one last time, sending me hurling into my orgasm. I moaned loudly, calling out his name like it was stuck on repeat as it fell from my tongue. I ground myself into his palm, riding through my climax as he stopped his movements inside me.

His hand left me suddenly, making me let out a whimper in protest at the loss of contact. I locked eyes with him, feeling my hair sticking to my sweaty skin. He removed his pants and underwear finally, crawling up my body until he was face to face with me.

Grabbing himself at the base, he coated his length in my release before pushing into me with ease. I let out a sound of relief as he filled me, quickly bottoming out. He growled over top of me, eyes closing as he held my hips tightly.

“Fuck, you feel so warm and wet. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last with your cunt feeling this good around my dick.” he confessed, beginning to move slowly within me.

“Just fuck me, Chanyeol. Hard and fast, I’m begging you. I can’t even tell you how much I fucking need you.” I pleaded with him, holding his face in my hands before kissing him hungrily. He returned the kiss as he fucked into me roughly, skin slapping against skin. I wrapped my legs around his waist, nails raking down his back as he showed me absolutely no mercy.

We both cried out loudly, my slick walls tightening around him like a vice grip. His thumb eagerly found my clit, rubbing in harsh circles as he maintained his brutal pace. My second climax came roaring up through me, a scream erupting from the back of my throat as I came hard on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He whined, pulling out quickly, pumping himself as ribbons of his release coated my still clenching stomach. I lay there speechless, arms hanging loosely at my sides as he sat back on his heels, both of us panting heavily. I gave him a content smile, running a hand through my hair as I reached out to touch him. He returned it, that goofy grin taking over his handsome face.

“What?” I finally asked, still breathing rapidly as I gazed up at him.

“Your stomach looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.” I leaned up and smacked his chest as he laughed loudly, halfheartedly trying to fend me off.

“If you hadn’t just given me the best orgasms of my life, I would kick your fucking ass, Park Chanyeol!” I shouted, still swinging away at him playfully.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I’ll wipe it off! Gesh, woman.” he joked, leaning over the edge of the bed to grab a discarded shirt to clean it up. He was gentle, making sure he got all of it off before tossing back to the floor.

He stretched above me, wincing in pain, both of us remembering his wound. I took his hand, carefully tugging him to lay down beside me. I brought his arm around my shoulders, resting my head against his chest, fingers running along his still sweat covered skin slowly.

“Where do we go from here, Wren? Everything we’ve worked for is over, the people we cared about, gone.” he pointed out, hand stroking my hair gently as he spoke. I tilted my head up, taking his face in my hand and moving him to meet my gaze, my thumb and forefinger latching on to his earlobe and massaging it gently.

“No. I still have you, and you still have me. That’s enough.” I told him confidently. He bent to kiss me, holding my face gently as he did. Once he released me, he grinned happily.

“You’re right, Wren. That is enough. None of this will be easy from here on out, I know that. But, if I have you to go through the rest of this life with, I’ll be more than content.” he stated, his words making my heart flutter happily.

“Me too, Chanyeol. Me too.”

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