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otomegema · 3 years

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title: Convergence Theory pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don't even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: Mature for now, explicit later most likely because WHY NOT tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your yukata stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes. Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. Your had been born with the Limitless, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His pale cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

***

September, 2017.

The uproar that followed that moment twelve years ago had been profound. Your parents had spent the remainder of the visit profusely apologizing and demanding explanations… and the entire time Gojo had stared only at you. Blue eyes wide and engulfing, a smirk etched in the corner of his mouth even as he got up and strode out without another word.

You remembered he had whistled as he went. As if it were all according to plan.

No betrothal was agreed to that night nor any night since. You were never summoned to the main house again.

It had been the most freeing moment of your young life, opening the world from the one pinpointed hope you’d be born with the Six Eyes or wed to the one who had it into a kaleidoscope of possibility.

You attended Jujutsu Tech’s Kyoto branch, keeping far out of the way of the rising star of the Gojo clan.

Well.

Sorta.

So the problem with having an inherited technique that allowed you to “see” curses and cursed energy users from great distances? Gojo Satoru. The man was such an expansive supernova of energy that when you opened your mind and utilized your gift of telemetry to try and pinpoint targets you had to navigate around his massive, dominating aura.

It was like counting stars against a sunlit sky. The ability, that should have been astronomically useful, rendered inert if Gojo Satoru was on the field.

You tried not to have your own missions line up with his. Which meant keeping tabs on him. Which meant having to live with this gnat, this buzzing fly of cursed bullshit constantly humming in the background when you used your gifts.

You wished everyday you had swatted him harder.

Missions in Tokyo were the worst, but you accepted them without complaint. The fact you’d even managed to rise to second grade despite your public humiliation of the main family’s golden child was a miracle in itself and not one you would squander.

The task was simply. There was a cursed entity that was utilizing the signal within electric devices of all things to move from device to device, rapid as an electrical pulse. It had already killed five non-sorcerers in surge related house-fires in two days. The risk of it causing a massive firestorm in any district rising.

The air had begun to cool in Tokyo, the heat of the summer giving way to fall. You sat on a bench, wireless com already clipped to your ear, the only sound so far the faint static of the open radio and the sound of your breath. The air had that crispness already, the bare cusp of autumn. You steadied your thoughts and began to shut down your senses.

The cursed energy of the young sorcerer students around you began to glow in your mind’s eye, the rest of the world fading into shades of imperceptible grey. Blurring. Distorting.

If you had the Six Eyes, you would be able to see it all. But instead, you blinded yourself to everything but the cursed when you utilized your skill.

You shut your eyes and with a soft breath you whispered, “Cursed technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

The city revealed itself to your five senses like a massive overflowing of information. Had you not taken the time to adjust, quickly shutting down your hearing, sight, taste, smell and touch in order to compensate, the mental load would have stunned you into a comatose state for several hours. Another thing a Six Eyes user would never need to do. You mentally chastised yourself for allowing the distraction of a deprecating thought, and focused instead upon your sixth sense. The one that tracked beyond the physical.

You were effectively helpless in this state, but within your mind you breezed through the city like a thumb pressed over the pages of a book. Flipping at your leisure as you focused in upon the fastest moving pulse of cursed energy.

In your “peripheral vision” or what acted like a sort of peripheral vision, you could sense the constant presence of Gojo. It was far away, diluted. You wondered if perhaps he was overseas for the barest moment until your senses snapped together and fell upon your target.

You spoke. Your words falling on your own deaf ears as you gave the location into the com. You perceived the movement of the three students. Good kids, fast learners. One boy was even a scion of another great house and the one girl among them possessed a cursed technique of extreme value. The other boy, the pink haired one, you had yet to understand, but his cursed energy output was impressive.

The entity moved. You adjusted, giving new instructions. The curse had not yet caught on to the fact it was being tracked, a fact you would use to your advantage as long as possible. If the curse sensed you, it could easily close the distance and attempt to seek you out… which was why sitting in a park, far from any electrical devices other than your battery powered radio was the safest place you could be.

And if worse came to worse, at least it would be drawn out in the open.

The entity jumped again, following the planned route the three had decided upon to box it further and further into a section of the city that they had already prepared to shut down. Without power, the curse would have to break free of its hiding place within the electric current.

How did a curse even get into the power grid? Too many lost football games on TV? You chuckled a bit to yourself without thinking, providing the newest coordinates as you watched, like an omnipresent spectator as the energies of the curse and the students moved.

This is why I score the highest at Pac-Man…

Everything was going according to plan. You had begun to even let your thoughts wonder, your focus softening just the barest fraction as the students rounded the final corner and blocked the curse into the chosen spot.

And now here comes the switch…

You braced for the surge of cursed energy you expected to feel from it’s ejection…but the power stayed on. You had to stifle the sensation of panic that sparked through your heart, your cursed energy rising a fraction.

And there it was. You felt the shift, the sudden adjusting of the entity. The students flared bright, attacking to try and ward off its escape, but without the power shut off they were waiting for, the curse easily vanished, pulsing through the city and heading now straight ahead… to you.

It’s fine. Fine. Nothing electric by me, so no fast travel.

It couldn’t pass through the coms. It would need to branch off into another grounded circuit and then physically come out to face you in the empty park.

You could hold unto the technique a little longer. Guide the students a little longer. You snapped information in quick short terms. Watching the cursed energy approach closer and closer until it reached the last building at the far end of the park.

And then, inexplicably, it jumped again.

The force in which you were propelled did not immediately register to your mind as your senses flickered and began to come back on line one by one.

The first was touch.

And thus pain.

Your muscles contracted, shot full with an electrical pulse. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the strike coming indirectly as if someone had forced the curse away. Something blinding and bright exploding over the far-reaching vision of your Limitless technique before your ability snapped off like a cut thread.

Your hearing came back first from sheer force of will. Sight returning in blurry, slowly filling shapes. You forced yourself up from the ground, feeling scrapes biting along your palms.

“You fucking dick.” You managed to hiss, your vision returning just in time to witness the exorcism of the curse by none other than Gojo Satoru.

***

“You used me as bait!”

Your voice reverberated off the hallway walls, your mild injuries tended to but your grievances still in desperate need of airing.

You were only comforted by the fact his students had not been involved in the deception, having also thought Gojo was away while they worked under her guidance in the meanwhile. You were no teacher, but you had taken enough students through missions to be adequate at “babysitting”.

Gojo grinned easily, eyes hidden behind his blind fold as he ran a hand up his neck, feigning a bashfulness you knew had not an ounce of genuineness to it.

The bastard had quietly set up a god damn daisy chain of extension cables into the park, ending plugged into a cheap TV set… right next to you. And he’d done it only after you’d entered your Limitless, taking advantage of your lack of senses to literally bait you like a god damn fish hook and then swoop in to destroy the curse.

His students had been a distraction. A means to force the curse into seeking you out and getting into the open where it could not easily run again. It was the most convoluted, infuriatingly, ridiculous brilliant bullshit you had heard in a long while.

“Pretty clever, yeah? I’ve been practicing my multi-layer tactics.”

“That wasn’t a tactic, it was a gamble and a shitty one at that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but did you die?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side. His voice was tinged with amusement and you wondered for a moment if he even remembered you and this was some elaborate “gotcha” twelve years in the making… or if this kind of backhanded backstabbing was common place for him.

“It was interesting to see your technique in action. I could probably give you some tips on how to make it more effective, but they’d be pretty useless to— well. You. So I figure I’ll just make the tweaks and practice it myself!”

You stayed silent.

“What did ya call it? Limitless Telemetry?”

You turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Whoa— hold on.”

Your exit was cut off, the grinning face you wanted nothing more than to connect your fist into coming back into view.

“I’m kidding. Don’t run off and cry now, we got some other business I wanna discuss.”

“If you’re planning on pitching another mission to me, I pass.”

“Nope. Well— yes. But not like this one.”

You sighed, side stepped, and continued around him again.

“I’ll buy you lunch!”

You stopped.

“And maybe even some kakigōriiiiiiii—“ he continued, his voice lifting to a sing-song tone as he stretched out the word. Your stomach twisted and grumbled in response. Using your Limitless always took so much out of you… a side effect you wondered if he experienced to.

You turned to look back at the man who hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years and wondered again if he was so stupid he didn’t remember who you were or if he was hatching some new plot.

He smiled in what you assumed he thought was a disarming and charming way.

“Fine.”

***

You had settled for a sweet plum flavor, dipping your small wooden spoon into the shaved ice and enjoying the way it melted across your tongue. Flavors always felt more pronounced after you used your Limitless, smells more intense. The sights sharper. It was probably just a placebo effect from being without them, even for a short amount of time, but regardless you enjoyed the sweet flavor and the fruity smell of the different syrups… most of which were coming from Gojo’s own cup.

He had gotten every flavor. The shaved ice in his cup a rainbow of color and tastes as he scooped several together at a time.

The lunch he promised had yet to come, but the treat was enough for now as the sugar helped give a little more pep to your body and your mood. The amount of calories you expended using your gifts was another thing entirely.

The two of you walked a ways in silence, giving you time to observe him for the first time in over a decade.

He had changed, that much you could tell. There was something less harsh in his general demeanor and he had grown considerably since he was fifteen. The boyishness of his face had sharpened, the man overtaking his features. He was broader, less lanky than his teenage self and while his easygoing and devil-may-care attitude was still present, there was something less— edged about it. Less angry.

“Your hair is shorter now,” Gojo said suddenly, “And your chest is bigger.”

You immediately frowned. A look of open disgust flashing over your face. Gojo laughed.

“Thought I forgot about ya, didn’t you?” He slid a thumb over his cheek, the gesture making you flush at the memory of what it felt like to slap the smirk off his face.

“Honestly? Yes.” you answered shortly, taking another bite of your ice.

“Nah. I remember, just figured there was no point in makin’ nice. You seem to be doing fine on your own these days. Second grade, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“As short worded as ever.”

He strode off, forcing you to match his pace. He found a park bench and sat down, sprawling out lazily. You sat next to him at his insistence, knocking your knee into his own until he closed his thighs a bit more with a chuckle.

“Thought you’d be a first grade by now.”

“I have not been recommended.”

He snorted, “Bet you know why.”

You clenched your teeth, holding back a sharp word and an even sharper desire to toss your kakigōri right in his face. Arrogant as ever. Some things, you guessed, did not get better with age.

“The great and fabled Six Eyes holding a grudge over a love tap? How trite.” you said, trying to keep your words indifferent.

“Is that what it was? I had a bruise ya know.”

“You could have stopped my hand before it ever even touched you. You wanted me to slap you so you could get out of having to do anymore meetings.”

His laugh was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

“It’s what I know.”

Gojo turned his attention back to his shaved ice, the two of you sitting in silence long enough for the weight of it to become uncomfortable for you. Finally you shifted and scrapped your spoon down the ice, leaving trails of melting syrup.

“What is it that you want?” Because that was what this was about wasn’t it? He wanted something. The main family never disdained to speak to the lower members without a need and Gojo Satoru was not about to be the exception.

“I’m going to recommend you for first-grade sorcerer status.”

You scrapped your spoon through so harshly a chunk of colored ice fumbled down the side of the paper cup and down your hand. You dodged just in time to avoid it landing with a wet smack on your pants.

You gaped openly at him, but Gojo kept his attention fixed on his ice, happily stirring it up into a soupy, syrupy mess.

“… and yet again I ask, what is that you want?”

Gojo leaned back, tilting his face towards you with an easy grin. You wondered if he saw the world the way you did with your Limitless with his eyes shaded. Seeing only the impressions of energy and sensation. Could he see your expression? The confusion in the downturn of your mouth or the suspicion in the narrowness of your eyes?

“Nothing too crazy! Just need a fiancée.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

***

You waited outside the small convenience store across the street, feeling your cheeks beginning to lessen in redness from both anger and embarrassment at your sudden outburst.

When Gojo returned from inside, his hair was still wet… and there was still some redness from the syrup stuck to the strands. You hadn’t been able to control the impulse to throw your kakigōri at him, the breaking of your composure having flowed directly down your arm. It could have been worse, you supposed. You could have punched him.

He had needed to rinse off his blindfold, the fabric now folded and tucked into his back pocket. He had replaced it with the dark glasses you recognized from his youth, giving you a glimpse of the bright blueness of his eyes every once and awhile.

Gojo sighed and tossed a damp paper towel into a bin and turned to you expectantly. You gingerly handed him back his own dessert, having minded it for him while he went into the men’s room to clean up. It was practically soup now and you winced when he lifted it to his lips and drank it.

“As I was saying—“ he began with a smack of his lips.

“No—”

“—it’s a pretend engagement.”

Your mouth hung open, half ready to utter another refusal, which you swallowed back in as he waited expectantly for you to cease interrupting him.

“You let me take you on a few dates, we put on a show of my courting a potential betrothed and in exchange I green light your promotion.”

You narrowed your eyes, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth in obvious consideration.

“For how long?”

Your directness didn’t seem to offend him. Quite the opposite actually. Every time you curtly dropped a single or few word sentence he seemed to only smile brighter.

Gojo shrugged, “A few months. Maybe more. Until I figure out a permanent solution.”

“Your parents want you to get married?”

“The whole clan wants me to get married, sweetheart. I am the strongest.”

And now came the obvious question.

“Why me?”

Gojo shrugged, “You were one of their first picks to start with, so they’ll approve. And there isn’t a risk of you falling for me…”

His lips upturned into a sly grin, “… too quickly.”

You scoffed.

“Family will back off. I get a bit of peace until I have to kick you to the curb, and you get to be a first-class sorcerer. Everyone wins.”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

Gojo gave a sad little nod, like he was agreeing with a deluded person in order to keep them calm and reasonable.

Granted, you did just effectively hurl a slushy at him a few minutes prior.

“This seems a bit extreme, even for you. Why do you think I’d even say yes? You know exactly why you got slapped. Can I expect that same level of charm from our future ‘dates’?” you asked, kicking yourself for having implied in your words you knew him well enough to even know what was extreme for him. The comment did not go unnoticed, even with his half expression hidden you could tell his interest was piqued. The last thing you wanted to do was to explain to this insufferable man how his very presence was as constant as the sun. Always nagging in the back of your mind and in your abilities.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“That was awhile ago. Most girls find me pretty charming these days. As to why you’d say yes— given it is probably your best chance at getting to first grade sorcerer status, I can’t think of a reason you wouldn’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Fifteen year old you would be outraged, furious. She would not have considered this offer for a second. She would have stamped her foot and told him exactly where he could stick his offer.

But twenty-eight year old you had learned that very often principles were made to be damned.

“And the fact I can tell you are just dying to say yes.”

There was that arrogance again.

“You still buying me lunch?” you countered and the smile he gave you was a bit different than the ones before.

“Wow. No one will even question how I could have been charmed by such a talented freeloader.”

“I am exceedingly charming.”

“And what an arm. You play softball or you just start a lot of food fights as a kid?”

“I want sushi.” You said, the finality of your voice inarguable. You thought he might have rolled his eyes, but nevertheless you got your lunch and even managed to bargain a single day to think about the offer.

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greyias · 3 years

Note

3. Things you say too quietly - - Grey/Theron

I know you didn't ask for a Jedi!Theron AU with this prompt... but the muses spoke, and well...

“I’m sorry that you couldn’t become a Jedi, Theron. You would have been a great one.” - Jedi Player Character, Shadow of Revan

Theron had grown accustomed to a few not-so-subtle glances in his direction and the echo of whispers as he passed. His surname, as well as the apparent family resemblance between him and Grandmaster Satele Shan of the Jedi Order, ensured that his ancestry would never be hidden in the long run. But usually the whispers began after he stepped off the shuttle.

He tried to smother a frown as he strode through the temple, weaving through the crowds milling on the landing pad. If the persistent whispers and exchanged glances between Jedi were any sign, something out of the ordinary was going on. Tython was typically a much more reserved place than this, and the atmosphere set him on edge.

When something was amiss in his environment, the reassuring, yet almost insignificant weight of the lightsaber at his hip was always a comfort. The comfort and familiarity of the hilt, of the bright green blade that shone when he activated it, was one of the few constants in his life. Despite what some in the temple may have claimed, he wasn’t quick to draw it — the legacy of Revan followed all of his descendants in pernicious ways.

The murmurs continued with each step, and he caught only snatches of information as he worked his way through the crowd. Perhaps a different Jedi would have stretched out their feelings and tapped into the Force to figure out what was causing the uproar. However, he and the Force had a unique relationship. What came naturally to most of his peers, Theron had to work twice as hard to master. Communing with that mystic energy never came easily to him, and he preferred not to waste his time and energy on petty pursuits when he could more easily use his normal senses. He preferred to be grounded in the physical, to touch something and confirm its reality.

Theron finally emerged from the crowd swarming around the platform and entered the temple’s great map room — and spotted the source of the uproar. He wasn’t able to smother the shock of surprise that ran through him when he saw the motley crew gathered around a table in the far corner of the room. He’d had little interaction with everyone on the Defender’s crew, but he could still recognize them from a distance. Sergeant Fideltin Rusk appeared irritated, the Chagrian’s lethorns twitching as he attempted to disappear into his seat. Doc, as he insisted on being addressed, was leaning back in his chair, attempting to smooth talk a nearby Padawan who was attempting to ignore him. The little astromech T7-01 emitted shrill beeps at his flirtatious crew-mate. If Theron’s mental translation was correct, it was a stern warning to the medic to stop clowning around.

Of course, the biggest mystery wasn’t what the astromech was saying, but why it or the rest of the crew were here at all. The last anyone had seen of the Defender, its crew, or commander was six months ago, when they and several other members of a covert strike team infiltrated a secret fortress and capture the Sith Emperor himself.

Theron’s gaze narrowed on the group, lips pursing together. The busybodies here didn’t know about that part, though. All they knew was that a member of the Jedi High Council and a rising star in the Jedi Order had vanished almost completely without a trace.

Rumors of new, powerful Sith cropped up, whose descriptions seemed disconcertingly similar to the missing Jedi. That was where Theron had been, gathering intelligence on these rumors at the behest of his former master, Gnost-Dural, and why he had come to Tython to deliver reports to the Council directly.

He was supposed to deliver the report alongside Jomar Chul, with whom he’d teamed up when the rumors started. During their investigation, however, it became clear that Jomar’s interest in the mission was very singular, centered on the fate of just one of the missing Jedi. They’d eventually split up. Jomar focused on his obsession, leaving Theron to chase the remaining leads on his own.

He had a feeling Jomar was going to get into trouble again. Just like when he’d crash-landed on Tatooine while scouting the Dromund Kaas system for Tol Braga’s strike team and needed to be rescued by the Order’s resident overachiever. Since “The Force” allegedly intervened and brought Little Miss Perfect in, they had kicked Theron off the strike team. Never mind that he’d already done extensive legwork on the scope of the entire mission.

The story of his life.

Theron’s talents in the Force had always paled compared to the alleged legacy he’d inherited, and the two most prominent rising stars in the Jedi Order had always outshined him. First there was the Barsen’thor, with their raw talent and diplomatic savvy. And, of course, the woman who had nearly saved the entire Order and the planet of Tython from Darth Angral’s wrath. Theron was off world in the Vesla system at the time, and when he’d returned, the temple seemed unable to talk about anything else.

He could have approached the Defender’s crew and asked for precise details of their whereabouts for the past six months, or inquire about the conspicuously absent members of their crew. But he suspected that if he just kept walking, more would reveal itself. So, with only an arched brow at the strange ensemble, he made his way out of the chamber.

Theron found his way to the large balcony in the main hall, which overlooked the Eye of Zallow hovering in the center of the vast room. The Chamber of the High Council was just to his right. The Council members were speaking to each other, their words indistinct but their concerned tones loud enough to be heard over the buzz of conversation in the hall. He couldn’t help but wonder if the return of the Defender’s crew was responsible for that, too.

That’s when he saw her, leaning against the balcony railing, gazing down at the first floor.

For a moment, Theron almost didn’t recognize her, and it was only that dim, electric hum that seemed to pass between only the two of them that revealed the woman’s identity. Gone were the squared shoulders that projected serenity and strength, as well as the ornate tunic she wore after earning the moniker “Hero of Tython.” Theron’s eyes narrowed as he took in the pale face, tight jaw, and dark circles that stood out beneath haunted eyes. She wore a plain, stained tunic that hung loosely around her. Her hair was still pulled back into a ponytail, but it hung limply around her shoulders. Possibly most alarmingly of all, her lightsaber hilts were conspicuously absent. It may have been six months since he’d last seen Greyias Highwind, but one look at her revealed she’d been through hell and back.

Theron could have walked into the Council Chambers — and probably should have — but found himself settling in next to her at the railing, as if drawn there by a gravitational force. With his gaze fixed on the Eye of Zallow, he simply rested his arms on the railing, making no attempt to speak. While he may not have felt like wasting energy attempting to connect to the Force in order to determine the source of some whispers, but the connection seemed easier here. He felt the raw emotions tumbling off of her almost effortlessly — although perhaps it was more her not shielding herself than any effort on his part — and he wasn’t sure what to make of what he was picking up. She was projecting a sense of loss and bitterness, but there was a fog over it, as if she was trying to conceal it from all those around her.

Theron kept his mouth shut, trying to push his own emotions to the side. The last words he’d exchanged with her hadn’t exactly been the kindest. He’d been frustrated by being sidelined yet again and took it out on her, calling her a glory hog, among other choice words. She’d even apologized later, as if she felt some remorse for his exclusion from the mission. But she also didn’t try to persuade Tol Braga or the Council to let him back in.

Of course, after six months of radio silence, the entire strike team presumed dead and now possibly turned traitor… in retrospect, it now almost seemed a blessing. At least for him, because it was clear from looking at her it had been anything but on her end.

“Sometimes I wonder,” she finally said, her voice so quiet he couldn’t hear it over the din of the temple, “if you should have gone instead of me.”

That drew his gaze up to her, and he studied her features closely. He didn’t need the Force to see the darkness that clung to her like a lingering stain. Her normally expressive face was masked in an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, but even despite that, her eyes still spoke much louder than her voice.

It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts (and stamp down his stubborn pride) before he spoke. “Look, I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone, but we both know who the better Jedi is between the two of us.”

“I... I did not mean it in that way.”

He almost winced, but stopped himself. He was doing a fantastic job at... whatever this was, wasn’t he? “In any case, I doubt my presence would have made a difference.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, as if whatever he’d said was the most obvious and logical thing in the world. “I suppose not.”

He considered the report he was about to deliver, and the likely identities of the Emperor’s new dark enforcers wreaking havoc across the galaxy. If the rest of her strike team had fallen to the Dark Side — some of the Order’s best and brightest — it spoke of her resilience that she hadn’t joined them.

“You made it back, though,” he added cautiously. “That has to count for something.”

“Does it?” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but he could pick up the despair and resignation in it.

It was a far cry from the cheerful Padawan who’d fought alongside him against the Flesh Raiders in the Gnarls. Or the pompous and pious young Jedi who rescued Revan from the Maelstrom. Or the honest Knight who always seemed to land the toughest missions, earning her the Grandmaster’s favor. As much as he’d resented her outshining him throughout his Jedi career, seeing her in this state was much, much worse.

In all of his years as a Jedi, Theron had always been reaching. At first, for the Force — trying to establish a connection which eluded him repeatedly over and over until one day, suddenly, an intangible yet firm hand had grasped him like a lifesaver being thrown out into stormy waters. He’d been reaching ever since. For the respect of his peers. For his mother’s—er, the Grandmaster’s—acknowledgement. Trying to reach for some destiny which always seemed to be plucked out of his grasp every time his hand closed around it. Over and over, he kept trying, with a stupid persistence that would have a smarter person giving up and moving on.

The woman in front of him had once been the personification of everything he’d been striving for. He’d looked into her bright, shining future and compared it to his own. Who always came out on top? Who walked away with the fancy titles and the admiration of the whole Order? And who had to stand in the shadows, watching as she earned accolades for her bravery and skill? As he looked at this shell of a once great Jedi, he wondered if maybe all this time, he’d been reaching for the wrong thing.

And yet he reached out again — but this time, to rest a hand on her shoulder.

When she looked at him, he could see surprise mingling with something softer. As if he’d plucked some cosmic string, the surrounding air seemed to shift, and a silent symphony filled the empty spaces between them. A familiar warmth rose up, melting the fog that shrouded her. He pretended not to notice when she blinked once, twice, a curious shimmer almost clinging to her lashes.

Neither of them moved for a few beats. Then she extended her hand, barely brushing his before pulling back, a faint blush creeping up on her cheeks. The minor emotion rippled through the Force, and for a second, Theron thought he heard a tune that sounded familiar but couldn’t quite place it.

“Every moment is what we make of it, right?” he said, trying to move past any awkwardness he’d created.

The corners of her mouth twitched slightly upwards, the closest thing to a smile he’d seen since he’d last seen her. “When did you become so wise?”

“Well, you know — I’m a Jedi. Comes with the territory.”

A laugh. A sharp, clean laugh, as if it had been trapped in her chest and only now had a way of escape. For a moment, she was almost herself again. Almost. The gray pallor remained, as did a haunted look in her eyes, a tension she’d not yet released. But he could see a spark now, a flash of the past’s brilliance. He wondered what it would take to restore that light to its former radiance.

Probably time.

“That you are,” she said, her smile still on her face. “And a pretty great one too.”

“I think you and I both know who has done the most good.”

“It is not great deeds that makes a Jedi,” she sobered slightly, tilting her head at him, “but this.”

She reached out, placing her hand over his heart. Her eyes crinkled as she gave him a half-smile, and the air between them practically crackled. A divine warmth radiated from her fingertips, through his shirt, and deep into a forgotten part of himself and lighting a fire in him. Not the type that left a searing mark, but almost cleansing — as if something was drawing him out of himself and connecting with her, making another part of them both more whole. The moment hung there, the rest of the world reduced to background noise. That strange energy filled the air between them and seemed as natural to both of them as breathing. Perhaps it was the Force; perhaps it was something else. He’d figure it out... later.

Her hand dropped, and she took a step back, bringing the surreal moment to an end. It was as if the room suddenly reappeared, drowning out the strange music that filled the space between them.

For lack of anything else to do, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I should… report to the Council.”

“It is probably wise to not keep them waiting,” she agreed, tucking her hands behind her back.

They exchanged a glance, and he was caught off guard by the softness in her expression. She didn’t move as he walked away from her, but her gaze followed him as he approached doors to the Council Chamber.

He took a brief pause just before entering to glance back. She was still there, leaning against the railing, her gaze distant. Perhaps he was imagining things, but she still seemed to radiate the warmth that had filled the distance between them. He reached out through the Force, and was met by a familiar light. Then it was gone, as if tamped back down.

He turned away and was about to slip through the door when he heard her voice drifting to him, soft but somehow louder than the wind. “Thank you, Theron.”

That was the only thing she said. But it was enough.

He smiled — and walked on.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #(pre-relationship)#Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #the road not travelled #canon divergent au #jedi!theron au #andveryginger #thank you for the prompt!#oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #swtor #fanfic #greyfic #there are so many details of this au that i couldn't fit into this without derailing the point of the fic/scene #i had to keep things short and focused (and it still felt a bit rambly at times)#(also this may be 4 of that '5 times' theron childhood au i had been talking about a while back)#(because why write in order?)

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twoflipstwotwists · 3 years

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Becky Downie has missed out on an Olympics before. In a 13-year gymnastics career, which has seen her win 14 major medals, she felt the heartbreak of watching a home Games from the sidelines in 2012. But this time is different, she says.

On Monday, her shock omission from the Tokyo 2020 team was announced, and she now says she can “never forget” the turmoil she endured from British Gymnastics during the selection process. She also hints that her treatment was influenced by her decision to speak out at the culture of abuse within gymnastics, suggesting she was “made to feel not welcome” at the sport’s training hub at Lilleshall after going public.

In an exclusive interview with Telegraph Sport, Downie describes the last few weeks as "the hardest of her life". She had thought things could not get worse than 2020: Olympic postponement, the fallout after she joined whistleblowers to speak publicly about what she described as "normalised" abusive training environments, and her father's time in intensive care battling Covid-19.

But last month tragedy struck when her brother Josh, 24, died suddenly from an undiagnosed heart condition while playing cricket. It was news Downie says "you never imagine receiving". To make things worse, she received the devastating call on the eve of the final Olympic team trial, while apart from her family at a hotel in Cardiff.

"I got a knock on the door after midnight, and my first thought was it must be drug testers," Downie says of that night. "I was half asleep, completely dazed. The coaches came in and when they told me [that Josh had died], I thought, am I actually dreaming this? There are really no words to really describe it. There were a lot of tears. It was the longest journey of my life, getting back to be with my family in Nottingham."

Sat in her living room in Nottingham now, Downie still has a look of disbelief on her face as she describes the events of the last few weeks. Condolence cards are placed around the room to mark how raw and recent her family's grief remains. Mounting more pain on top of that seems unimaginable, but the blows have kept coming.

Just two months ago, she was on top of the world after executing what she believes is a world leading uneven bars routine. At 29, she felt in the form of her life. When she posted a video of her routine online, major champions were applauding her in the comments, even the legendary Nadia Comaneci. Downie believes the routine put her in contention for a gold medal.

But last Friday her appeal was denied, and British Gymnastics confirmed she would not go to Tokyo. It is less than two years since she won a stunning silver medal at the World Championships - a competition that counted as a trial for the Olympic squad - but somehow she has failed to make even the three reserve spots for Tokyo. Though Downie has wished all of the gymnasts selected the best, she remains baffled by her exclusion - especially because she “met all the criteria” and her trials scores put her top of the rankings in bars.

British Gymnastics have defended the decision, saying they are focusing on medals in the team event, and that Downie's specialism in bars posed a "risk" to this strategy. But it has caused uproar, with a petition calling for an independent review of the selection process receiving 25,000 signatures in the last five days. Beyond selection though, Downie says what hurts the most is the way she believes the decision was made and how she was treated in the process.

After missing the final trial due to bereavement, Downie and sister Ellie were given another opportunity by British Gymnastics to compete for their spot on the team 10 days later. Though Ellie elected not to do so, Downie made the brave decision to take up the offer.

"I know that Josh would want me to, he wouldn't want me not to try," she says. What followed though, was a process where she alleges British Gymnastics lacked "any element of compassion".

They did not allow her to compete at her home gym in Nottingham or at the national centre at Lilleshall. British Gymnastics then rejected a venue she and her coach proposed and instead suggested she return to Cardiff - a six-hour round trip from her home and the very place she had learned of her brother's passing.

"That's the part that hurt me most. I refused. Why would I want to go back there? I don’t think that should have been asked of me at all."

Another venue was confirmed instead, and though British Gymnastics emphasised their intention to replicate as closely as possible the environment that the other gymnasts had competed in in Cardiff - for the benefit of fairness - Downie says it was her that was put at the disadvantage.

New obstacles included British Gymnastics failing to book her training slot at the chosen venue - a basic thing that all of the athletes had for their trial - which saw her make a 90-minute trip and have to plead with the Leisure Centre to remain open. She also had an existing dispute with the governing body because they refused to allow her to use equipment at the trial which more closely resembled that being used in Tokyo. As a bars specialist, this meant she couldn't perform her highest difficulty routine. "It's like telling Lewis Hamilton to get in a Ferrari and drive - in a sport of small margins, and high performance, equipment is always a factor."

Actually competing in the trial, while still reeling from the death of her brother, was "the hardest thing I ever had to do", and she describes national coaches walking past her wordlessly while she “sobbed uncontrollably”. But afterwards, she and Ellie walked out of the gym with "not a doubt in our mind" that she had done enough.

"If I can perform in that environment, which was harder than any Olympic final would ever be, I’m really proud," she says.

But, according to British Gymnastics, it was not enough. Knowing now that the team event was the priority in selection, she believes her exclusion from the team was already a foregone conclusion before her trial.

British Gymnastics "categorically" denies the suggestion that the trial was a "tick box" exercise, and say they trust that selection was decided purely on merit, but Downie is unconvinced. To add insult to injury, she was given a 48-hour deadline to appeal the decision, falling on the day of her brother's funeral.

"It makes me feel sick that they treated me like that," she says. "It hurts me to know the things I had to miss. Picking the flowers for the funeral whilst I was away trialling, a tribute for my brother at his cricket club, which happened when I wasn’t even given a proper training slot. I missed that, for what? There’s so much that was hurtful.

"I'll never forget that. And no amount of apologies will ever make that okay."

Downie and her sister were two of the only current British gymnasts to speak out about abuse in the sport last year, which triggered an independent review commissioned by UK Sport and Sport England. When she was left out of the squad on Monday, lobbying group Gymnasts for Change called it a "sinister warning" being sent by British Gymnastics to whistleblowers.

Does Downie think this outcome is a result of her speaking out? "It's very hard to say... But I definitely know that there has been a big behavioural shift towards me and Ellie, since that point, from certain individuals, decision makers. We’ve gone down to Lilleshall and been made to feel not welcome.

"I have been told by a person of significant importance - in the national team environment - that a lot of coaches do not agree with what we've done. Maybe I did open my mouth a year too soon, I'm not sure. If this is the sacrifice [an Olympics] then this is the sacrifice, change needs to happen. I’m proud of what I did and I don’t regret it."

Tokyo was meant to be her final bow, but now Downie has spent her first week in months out of the gym.

Downie is adamant though that she is not done with gymnastics. Despite the heartache and hurt caused, her love for the sport remains strong.

"It’s hard for me to think, can I be selected for a team ever again? I do know I want to carry on, because I want to show that routine. I haven’t done two years of work to sit on the sofa. There’s a World Championships this year. They certainly don’t have control over my final chapter. I know I want to compete again on my terms."

But the dream of Olympic gold is gone: "I genuinely believe that we could have done it. I think I had a shot at being the first female Olympic champion Britain has had in gymnastics."

#becky downie #ellie downie #bg deserves to burn

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Protective Humans.”

Saw this suggestion in my inbox from a couple months ago lol :)

“I am glad you could agree to come commander, with all of the …. Issues with the LFIL, we have had a really difficult time trying to maintain good relations with the rest of the galaxy.”

“We are glad we could come, of course, anything to help people understand humans a little bit better, plus Dr. Krill has a speaking engagement at the conference, so my coming here was twofold.”

“Ah, yes, your little doctor, when I heard about his particular speech, I have to admit I am very intrigued and excited. Anyway, we are glad that humans could come and help us with our mission. Even with human tourism growing in certain sectors of the galaxy, there are still many places were humans had never been seen, and it is in those areas where we have the most difficulty. They hear the rumors, and they see reports on the news about the worst kind of humans, and they just get scared.”

Commander Vir pulled to a stop standing next to the conference director, A Finnari by trade with a relatively trustworthy face despite being an alien, “Well, then they wouldn't be the only ones. Humans have been practicing paranoia against ourselves for thousands of years.”

Out in the hallway of the conference center, aliens bustled by many of them staring on at the commander and his group of following humans with wide frightened eyes. Some of them pointed in excitement while others shied away to the other side of the hall.

It was still true that less than 7 percent of all aliens in the galaxy had ever seen a human, and for many of these, that fact was no different.

This would be their first time seeing a human.

The commander had to bite back his innate response to smile at them, seeing as most aliens, like most animals, considered the display of teeth to be a threat. So he simply waved a hand garnering a few flinches, and a number of curious head tilts.

Maybe someone should do a seminar on human body language, perhaps then the general public would feel more comfortable around them.

“Anyway, we thank you for coming, but your friend’s lecture is about to begin, and I am very excited to see how it goes.” The commander nodded to the Finnari director, and he, and the other three humans with him, Maverick Ramirez and Dr. Katie stepped into the room where doctor Krill was setting up his presentation.

As was becoming routine at the conference, they received a gasp and an eruption of mutterings as they appeared from the doorway.

Dr Krill looked up from his work, as the humans inched to the side of the door trying not to be too disruptive, “Stop right there you four, and come here.”

In confusion the humans did as directed.

Dr. Krill stood up voice electronically amplified over the sound of the room, “Can everyone hear me, good, that is very good, now today I am going to be talking about a subject that, as the humans say, is very near and dear to my heart. That translates as, it is very important to me.” he motioned the humans to sit down on the stage, and they did as ordered though rather awkwardly, “Now I thought about just speaking to you for today, but have decided that, you aren't going to be able to keep your focus away from the humans anyway, so I might do us all a favor and add them into my lecture as a way to introduce you to them in a controlled environment, and hopefully, after today, you will come to see the humans as I do. Great allies, and an undeniable opportunity for friendship.”

“now , I wanted to do something a little different today, something a little off from my normal structured way of speaking about humans because I find it very displeasing the way the rest of the galaxy sees humans, and I want to change that. I tried determining a fact about humans that is the most forgiving and the most empathetic. Something all of you would enjoy.”

There was a muttering of intrigue about the room.

“Well I am going to start off with a little bit of a lecture. A lot of you may not know that humans give live birth to their offspring, not eggs like the Vrul, Rundi, or the Celzex, but more like the Tesraki or the Drev. however based on the physical structure of the human, and the slow evolution to walking on two feet. Humans are only capable of producing offspring at a reasonable size generally around six to seven pounds, and arguably no greater than twelve to fifteen pounds, though there may be exceptions. Now, as you know six pounds is very very small compared to the end result of a human, and the size of the head has the greatest bearing on this issue. The human head shape requires offspring to be born extremely underdeveloped, so underdeveloped that when they are born they can barely see or hear and have no ability to coordinate their own movements. It takes almost an entire rotation of their planet around their star in order for a human to walk. In essence it takes as much as eighteen revolutions before the average human is no longer taken care of by their parents.”

There was a muttering from the crowd.

“Now based on the surprising helplessness of the human offspring compared to the final product, they tend to be very loud, and very difficult to take care of seeing how underdeveloped they are. Generally if any one of us were saddled with an offspring like that we would probably just give up, but the human brain is so hot wired to love their offspring, that none of those annoying things generally tend to matter. In fact, the power of a human’s bonding abilities is so strong that they can even bond to creatures that are NOT human in nature.”

Another surprised murmuring around the crowd.

“A human will have the same reaction to a nonhuman than they do to their own young, and in that case, this means that a human will protect the offspring of another species with their own lives. Human parents have been known to kill, lift objects five times their size, and fight off even more dangerous predators for the safety of their offspring, and they will do it for yours too..”

This time the murmuring around the room was almost palpable, it was as if they could hardly believe what they were hearing.

That couldn't be right.

“What if I told you that the safest place our offspring could be, is in the arms of a human.”

That caused an absolute uproar of chattering, and Krill had to wait a few minutes before the room calmed down.

The humans were looking between each other with some curiosity hardly believing what they were hearing, not sure where this was going.

“now , I have brought forward a couple of gracious volunteers who trust my judgement enough to help me demonstrate what you are about to witness .”

“Our first volunteer.” He motioned to the side of the stage were a Rundi was waiting, as she walked onto the stage, the crowd noticed at least three tiny shapes running around her feet.

The human turned to look eyes wide, to the crowd they almost looked hungry.

“Dr. Katie, can you tell me what you are thinking.”

The human looked up her wide brown eyes somewhat magnified through her glasses, “I want to hold one so bad.” She turned her head towards the rundi, “Can I hold one…. Am I allowed to do that. I’ll wear gloves.”

The rundi mother seemed surprisingly calm allowing the human to come over and pick up her little ones holding them gently in their hands running a finger over their tiny heads. One of the humans was holding the tiny creature to his chest. Patting its tiny head with one finger.

“You see the protective nature in which the humans hold young that isn’t their own, I picked the rundi first specifically for this reason, simply because they don’t look remotely human. Arguably the humans shouldn't even connect them with their own young, and yet this is the posture of a creature that isn’t going to let anything happen to their charges.” He turned to the humans. “What would you do if someone tried to hurt these little rundi?”

The darker human looked up from the creature he was holding to his chest, “I don't know probably rip their arms off and beat them with them…. But that's probably a bit graphic so… er, i would be very very upset?”

“Great save.” The commander muttered, stroking his hand delicately down the little Rundi’s back, who seemed to be enjoying it rather happily. Of course all the humans were wearing gloves, considering that the rundi had an aversion to water, and humans had a habit of shedding it wherever they went.

They actually seemed disappointed when they had to let the tiny creatures go.

Not that they were disappointed at the next moment when A dark blue-black tesraki brought out a fuzzy little bundle.

One of the humans made a strange squeaking noise. Again begging to hold it.

The humans seemed to be having even more fun than the rest of the crowd was having watching them.

“You see the younger a creature of a different species is, the more likely humans are to adopt it with their social bonding.”

“Look at its little pig nose eep!”

“Hey let me hold it. You don’t have to be a hog.”

“You can fight me.”

“Sharing is caring.”

“What if I don’t care.” The humans jostled with each other for a turn holding, petting or cooing over the creature, though their aggression seemed to terminate at a predetermined distance from the small one, and if it wasn’t obayed, there were other humans to make sure they kept in line.

“You see, I would wager to say that your children are safer with humans than they are with you. Not to call you a poor parent. But humans will take falling impacts, jump in front of speeding vehicles, and their bodies are known to be quite durable.”

The commander was leaning over Dr. Katie’s shoulder stroking the Tesraki’s huge ears with one finger, “So soft.”

“Though the creature does not have to be fluffy, but for some reason humans really enjoy it, despite their own young being hairless. In fact there are many humans that much prefer to have a creature of a different species than they are interested in having one of their own

“Furbaby.” A human whispered as the tiny Tesraki was appropriated back from them.

“My next demonstration we have to thank by way of lord Celzex.”

The humans lifted their heads, eyes widening, “No!”

“YES!”

What came next was an excessive spectacle of human happiness characterized by a lot of squealing from both male and female humans, and a ton of tiny, angry little balls of colored fluff with massive eyes and huge feet.

Dr. Katie sat in a corner holding a handful of the little colored fluff balls in her arms, “Guys….” She moaned, “I think I’m gonna cry, this is pure happiness. I want all of them.”

Maverick lay on the ground flat on her back as at least ten of the tiny creatures crawled all over her. It was pretty clear they were trying to attack, but to the human it caused nothing more than an eruption of giggling.

The commander and Ramirez sat opposite each other trying to wrangle a small heard of the fluffies who ran about in an angry circle.

Needless to say, the humans were very disappointed when they had to be taken away.

Ramirez held out a hand, “Wait, but, no….”

Maverick was frowning looking down at her empty hands like she was missing a finger.

“And now for my last demonstration.” The doctor began.” Motioning his last volunteer up.

What came next was a nine foot tall male Drev, cradling a tiny shape in his lower arms.

Excitedly, the humans rushed over, and the Drev seemed to have no problem handing over his young to the pack of cooing humans.

Maverick bumped Katie out of the way, and took the tiny creature in her arms running away with it across the room.

The other humans trailed after Craning their necks over her shoulder and trying to see the tiny creature who opened its little beak like a baby bird chirping and blinking at them.

“I swear if anything happens to this child I will kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“I didn’t know they were so frigging adorable. Shit, I want one.” The commander grumbled playing with one of the tiny hands.

“Yeah, who wants a human baby anyway, these ones are way cuter., and they don’t smell.”

“Maverick, if you don't let me hold it, I promise I will have you on bathroom duty for the rest of your foreseeable career.”

Maverick frowned, “Just five more minutes.”

“Fine, five, but then it's my turn.”

The doctor continued to lecture as the humans sat in a circle passing around the tiny drev, “You see in a time of crisis, a human will wrap themselves around their offspring using the rigged bones, and taught muscles of the shoulders, back and ribcage as a shield diffusing impacts and cushioning falls. It is also quite common for an entire pack of humans to form up around younger humans to protect them.”

The commander had appropriated the tiny Drev from Maverick and was softly stroking a thumb against its tiny cheek. The small creature opened its mouth like a baby bird, chirping slightly before nuzzling its head against the human’s chest growing quite comfortable against the warm, soft human.

“Its official, I am the favorite.” The human announced

“But-”

“No no, you see, sleeping, now you can’t take him away.” The other humans pouted and the commander grinned.

“You see it is all thanks to the annoying and underdeveloped nature of the human offspring, that we can thank for human over protectiveness. Now, this effect lessons somewhat as you grow older, but generally speaking it never goes away entirely. A human will bond with anything, a broken piece of equipment, an item of clothing, and definitely you, for sure. Should you be cautious about which humans you trust? Certainly, but we exercise that caution daily with each other.”

He motioned to the group of huddling humans holding the tiny sleeping Drev.

“Just remember this image here the next time some propaganda string tells you humans are monsters.”

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are spaceoddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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themwordsblog · 4 years

Text

Eloped

“Good Evening! Good Evening! Good Evening Everyone!” James Corden welcomed his audiences, both live and the ones watching the telecast, through the thunderous applause.

The applause slowly died down, before James continued,

“Good Evening Everyone! Welcome to The Late Late Show. I am your host James Corden, and we have an amazing show lined up for you.”

More applause followed.

“Our first guest tonight, also our only guest tonight, is someone with whom I personally have a bone to pick. He has created a lot of uproar across the internet and the world in past few weeks, that he managed to crash Instagram. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the newly or not so newly hitched NIALL HORAN!”

Niall walked on to the stage, waving his hand toward the crowds and camera. He did a semi bro hug with James before making himself comfortable on the sofa.

The applause subsided, except few hoots and claps here and there.

“Welcome Niall!”

“Hey! James!”

“Don’t ‘Hey! James!’ me.”

Niall let out a nervous laugh.

“Care to explain this?” James continued and pointed to the screen. It was the acceptance speech he gave at the AMAs a few weeks ago.

“...I would also like to thank my wife. Thank you, Bells, for standing by me. For giving me the push and pull when I needed it. For being by strength, my support, my heart, my soul. You make me a better man and I cannot express the love I feel for you in any words. Thank You! Thank You all! Have a great night!”

“As you declare your love for your wife, about whom no one seems to have any idea, I mean look at Louis’s face-”

The screen started showing Louis’s confused ‘What?’ reaction to Niall’s declaration of love.

“His reaction has ended up being a meme!” James exclaimed showing various contexts. Niall let out a hearty laugh.

“Not only Louis, look at the reaction of others in attendance.. there’s Taylor- classy Taylor surprise reaction, there’s Liam- he too has managed to become a meme.” James showed various artist’s reactions to Niall’s speech.

“Yeah. I mean... what can I say? Yeah.” Niall tried to play it off.

“What can you say? Well, you can always start with the fact that how you ended up being married while the rest of the world thought that you were enjoying the bachelorhood.”

The audience cheered.

“When the hell did you get married?”

“It been almost more than six months.... actually no.. it’s been eight months.” Niall confessed.

“Eight months?” James exclaimed. “Eight months?” James looked baffled.

“Yeah!”

“How come we didn’t know about? Where was my invitation? Did it get lost? How did you send it? The courier company are going to hear from me very soon?” James bombarded Niall.

“Well....” Niall hesitated.

“Well what?”

“There was no invite?” It came out as a question.

“What do you mean there was no invite? How was I suppose to attend your wedding without invitation? Did you even invite me? Did I make it to the final guest list?”

“There was no guest list... there was no invite. Me and Bella had eloped.” Niall finally admitted.

His confession caused a lot of uproar of applause and hoots in the audience. James was speechless.

“I should be congratulating you. I’ll do that once I can completely process this information. But why on earth will you do that?”

“Well, she wanted a small and intimate wedding, I also wanted the same. But it was an impossible task, considering that we both have extremely large families. So, the only way we could do it was if we disappointed some of the family and friends or we disappoint all of them. We went for the later option.”

This earned a laugh from the audience.

“How did your family take it? When did you tell them?”

“We told them as soon as we came back home from our honeymoon-”

“So you had a honeymoon too? How thoughtful!”

“Actually it was a vacation, but we ended up marrying, so our vacation turned into honeymoon.”

“Alright. How did your families take it? We they disappointed with you as I am right now?”

“My folks were disappointed and hurt... but they understood our reasons. It took them some time, but they accepted it.”

“What about her folks? Were they convinced as easily as yours were?”

“Eh... Not really.”

“Yeah? How did they take the news?”

“Let’s just say that I literally ran for my life”

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan imagines #1d #1direction #one direction #harry styles #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn #niall-horan-imagines #niall #horan

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chimchimsauce · 4 years

Text

The Hills

The Hills have eyes

A commission for darling @illnevertrustmyselfagain

Thank you for your patience! Commissions are open

A steady stream of sweat sticks YN’s thin T-shirt to her back and her hair to her forehead as she struggles under the weight of one of her moving boxes. It’s not all that heavy, but it's incredibly large and awkward to hold against her as she makes her way up the stairs. Finally, she sees the light at the end of the tunnel (or rather hallway) and steps foot into her brand new apartment, setting the box down immediately.

“Is there anything else you need, ma’am?” One of the burly movers YN hired asks her, sweat heavy upon his brow.

She’d brought the last box up herself, wanting to have the personal honor of finishing moving herself in.

“No,” she shakes her head, breathless from her own hard work, “That’s everything. Thank you, guys.”

She tips the men generously, knowing that it must have been extra difficult to move all of her furniture up the many flights of stairs in her new apartment building.

Now, all alone, YN can finally take a good look at it. ‘Apartment’ doesn’t quite seem to fit this new place. It’s massive - room after room with tons of space to put any and everything she could ever need inside of it. A small smile graces her face.

She’s done it. This is all her. Working every single day for the past eight years and dumping all of her time and energy into her startup has truly paid off. She may have missed out on so-called rites of passages and her relationships have certainly suffered, but she’s done it!

That little startup that began in her childhood bedroom when she was in eleventh-grade grew to something so massive that investors sniffed around in record time. Soon enough, someone gave her a number bigger than she would have ever imagined and the decision to sell was easy. YN had given her company the very best she had, but now it’s time to move onto something new.

But before she decided to dedicate her life once again to a passion project, YN makes the choice to step away for a bit and enjoy her newfound wealth by moving to the richest neighborhood in Seoul - Hannam the Hill. The security ensures that she doesn’t have to worry about anything and the location offers her proximity to everything she’d ever want to do.

And speaking of location, YN drags her exhausted body to one of the many massive windows in her apartment, looking out and seeing the evening Seoul skyline. Buildings taller than anything she’s ever seen stand tall and proud like soldiers, their lights bright like her future. The businesswoman goes to bed with a grin on her face, her dreams full of lights that shine like stars.

Within a week of moving in, YN is more or less unpacked. All of her meager wardrobe has been placed in her massive closet and her dishes all unpacked, barely filling a single cabinet in the kitchen.

“Well that won’t do,” she says to herself, looking at her mostly empty-looking apartment.

In the past she spent the vast majority of her time at the office working, so her house was of little consequence She never even hung anything up on her walls. But now, now she finally has the chance to relax, to indulge and fill her life with color.

Grabbing her keys off of the hook by her door, YN decides that now’s as good a time as any to blow some money. She shrugs on a light jacket and heads out. Excitement drums through her veins and pep is in her step. For a moment, she’s in her own world, completely oblivious to everything around her.

That obliviousness leads her to run smack into a small, thin figure, nearly knocking the person off of their feet.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” she says, continuing on her way without questioning the person’s masked face too much.

She knows the Hill’s security is top-notch, so they’re certainly someone who lives here or otherwise has permission to be here.

Annoyed and exhausted, Yoongi glares at the retreating figure, trying to figure out if he’s seen that rude person before. Her face doesn’t seem the slightest bit familiar, so he guesses she must be the new neighbor who moved in a few days ago. Shoving his hands deep in his pocket he finds his keys and heads inside, not even making it to his bed before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, YN steps foot into the parking garage. Her car is fresh off the lot, that new car smell still clinging to her seats. She sets her GPS for the nearest furniture store and pulls away.

YN stays away from leather and white. Those were all her life had been - empty white walls and uncomfortable chairs and couches. She moves through the store slowly, analyzing each and every piece of furniture before settling on a bright yellow couch. It’s loud and undeniably eye catching, something she never would have even thought about buying before.

But now . . . the black card is burning in her pocket.

An hour or two later something of every color under the sun has been charged onto her card, destined to be delivered and put together in her home in just a few days.

And boy oh boy, does it feel good!

YN could swear the world is brighter when she leaves, walking through the streets of Seoul, boutique shops and fancy cafes lining her on each side. She comes to a stop when she sees an especially fascinating looking store and raises her hand to pull open the handle but stops when she hears a small whimper.

For a moment, YN thinks she’s making something up, but the sound comes once more. She pulls away from the storefront and peeks into the alley next door, carefully making her way down the near-empty valley. The whimper comes again and YN crouches down to open a sad looking box.

There, inside, a small shivering puppy is balled up into himself, not even looking at YN. She feels her heart break. Gently, she lifts the small animal up, clutching it close to her chest and rushing towards her car, looking for the nearest vet.

Yoongi isn’t sure when the last time he left his house was. He’s been working nonstop, constantly leaning over his computer to write and compose. His work was easy initially, but Yoongi has been stuck on this bridge for only God knows how long now.

He sighs, pushing away from his desk to stand and stretch, ignoring the way his body screams out in pain and his bones creak. Chip bags and crushed beer cans litter the ground, Yoongi shuffling through the mess without bothering to pick any of them up.

Sunlight nearly blinds him when he steps into his living room. He tosses his arm over his eyes as spots swarm his vision, nausea bubbling up inside of him quickly.

Damn. He’d forgotten to close them last time he’d been out here.

Once he can finally look ahead without his vision looping he shuffles into his kitchen, plugging in his coffee maker and impatiently waiting for it to brew. The window his counter is pressed against to looks out over a park. Bored, he actually glances out for once, people in the distance not aware of the multimillionaire looking at them.

At first, he doesn’t see anything of interest, just the usual stiff-necked people wearing the absolute wrong thing to the park. But then, faster than light, a small creature dashes across the massive green space, a woman chasing after it. Yoongi thinks that maybe someone’s dog has run away, but it soon becomes evident that it’s some sort of game, as the dog starts to yip happily when the woman catches up with him.

A small smile makes its way onto Yoongi’s face as he watches them but it falls soon after. When was the last time he’d done something as simple as enjoyed a day at the park with his dog?

The coffee machine whirs to a stop but Yoongi doesn’t grab it, too lost in his own thoughts. It’s been how long since he broke up with his band mates and gone solo? Three years? Four? He honestly doesn't know. While at first, Yoongi had been all to happy to leave his twenties behind and move forward with his career as a producer and occasional soloist, it soon set in how terribly lonely such a decision made him.

He’s much too well known to simply stroll about how he could when he was a teenager, just another face in an endless stream of people with dreams. But once he reached that dream - once the words “Min Suga” were on every tongue across the globe, he realized that it wasn’t what he wanted at all.

He loved music and success but he hated always being in the limelight without a shred of privacy and under the constant creative censorship of millions of people. So when it once again became time to resign their contracts, Yoongi took a step back even though the others begged him to stay.

Yoongi remembers that day vividly. The look of shock and betrayal as Yoongi said that he wished he’d never even joined BTS, never even pursued the path to idoldom. It was all lies but he’d been feeling so overwhelmed that he just wanted everything to stop for once. Stop the cameras and stop the screaming fans each time he stepped foot out into public.

And so seven became six . . .

But it didn’t last long. Less than six months later the three youngest members decided to leave for military service together and they just never came back. Their sudden departure caused a media uproar and several lawsuits, but the boys had made more than enough money to sweep them under the rug. And then there were three. That didn’t last much longer at all.

Within a year of Min Yoongi leaving BTS, the entire group disbanded.

Yoongi sighs, reaching for his cup and tearing his eyes from the window. He doesn’t deserve such joy, not after he destroyed the only real familial bond he’d ever had. He hasn’t talked to the other members (Ex-members, he reminds himself) since he walked out on him.

Usually, Yoongi is able to create beats with very little inspiration, but lately, that same tiredness from before has sprung up inside of him, leaving him with nothing but pure garbage and terrible posture.

He desperately needs a new muse, but at this rate, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find one.

Pitying himself, Yoongi drags his feet all the way into his office, once more shutting the world out.

Within two months of living in her new apartment, YN can confidently say that her life has never been better. She’s never been so stress-free and relaxed. All this free time has her diving into new hobbies every chance she gets. While most of them don’t stick for more than a few days (Is it really a surprise that sewing isn’t her thing?) she has fallen head over heels in love with baking.

For most of her teenage and early adult years, YN lived purely off of takeout food, never once lifting an arm to cook something for herself or bake a treat. Really, it wasn’t her fault. She was always in and out of meetings, drafting new business ideas, and making trips. She just didn’t have the time! And while she is absolutely awful at most of her new hobbies, YN’d taken to baking like a fish to water.

She enjoyed it so much that she’d quickly overbaked for herself, somehow coming to be surrounded by dozens of cupcakes, muffins, pies, and every other sweet thing imaginable. So, freshly made treats in hand, YN began to introduce herself to her neighbors.

While she is phenomenal at meeting people in a business setting, going over to her incredibly rich and sophisticated neighbors’ homes had been a bit anxiety-inducing. YN has never been great at making friends, but she was pleasantly surprised how kind the other people of the hills have been. Multi millionaires tend to be portrayed as stuck up, but YN now has a few friends she meets up with for weekly coffee gossip sessions. While she doesn’t really have much to add to their conversations, it’s nice just to be included.

At this point she’s met pretty much everyone on her floor, everyone except . . .

YN has never seen her next door neighbor leave their apartment. Whoever they are, they never make so much as a peep. It’s almost as if the apartment is completely empty. YN even asked her new friends about it, but they claim that someone has lived there for over three years now.

That once buried anxiety flares up once more as YN finds herself standing in front of his door, apartment number 613. She lifts her hand up to knock politely, hip supporting a large basket of muffins. She hadn’t made this many for her other neighbors, but something about the mystery of this one had her tossing in a few extra for good measure.

No one answers.

YN tries one more time and again there is not a single sound.

Just as she’s about to turn around with her hypothetical tail tucked between her legs the door creaks open ever so slightly. She can’t even see who is behind the door.

“Oh! Hello!” YN says, a little shocked, “I”m YN. I moved in next door about two months ago.”

Silence.

“I . . . um . . . I made muffins,” YN says, thrusting the basket towards the door.

Once again, the person doesn’t say anything. Unsure if she’s creeped out, embarrassed, or some awful combination of both, YN begins her retreat.

“Ah, well, I’ll just leave these here!” She manages to say, setting the basket down and hastily making it back to her own apartment, nearly slamming the door shut behind her.

What was that? What had just happened?

Just a few yards away, Yoongi stands in his own home, looking at the muffins his neighbor left outside his door. He never opens his door all the way, fearful that some old sasaeng would have found him out. But when he saw that it was her - the woman he’s been watching at the park almost every day, he didn’t know what to do.

For the first time in years, Yoongi felt a jolt of something running through his veins. She always looks so happy and full of life that Yoongi can’t help but feel intrigued by her. Hesitantly, Yoongi peeks out and plucks the basket up, bringing it inside.

His kitchen is bare of anything but empty wrappers, so the basket of freshly baked goods looks incredibly out of place.

Yoongi’s stomach growls, so he picks up one of the muffins, pleasantly surprised to find that it’s still warm. Before he knows it, he’s eaten six muffins, all of them delicious. When he retreats to his studio once more, a soft, sweet melody is in his brain.

He composes a song for the first time in months.

The next day, as YN prepares to go on her daily walk with her puppy Sugar, a small piece of paper slips under her door. Sugar is eager to check it out, sniffing it with abandon. YN, laughing at Sugar’s adorable antics, struggles to get the paper away from him without ruining it.

YN,

I apologize for my odd behavior. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday and thus acted rudely. The muffins you made were delicious and made me feel leaps and bounds better. If you feel up to it, would you like to go to dinner with me? I’d love to make it up to you.

Thanks again,

MYG

MYG? Is that her neighbor’s name? YN recalls her friends saying that the person next door is a near complete recluse. Dinner? Should she go?

YN clicks Sugar’s leash to his collar, throwing a look over her shoulder as she leaves her apartment to head to the park, unaware of the man peeping through his door.

Sure. Do you have any restaurant recommendations? There are still plenty of places I haven’t gone to. Here’s my number XXXXXXXXX

Yoongi is more than shocked by the letter under his door when he emerges from his studio after cleaning up his latest song. That adrenaline rush he’d gotten from YN’s treats has worn off somewhat and inspiration has fallen quickly. He finished the first song in a breeze, but he began to struggle again with the second.

SO why not get to know her better? Best case scenario, YN provides more inspiration. Worst case, she’s a psychopath.

He doesn’t think the second one is very likely, but he’s still hesitant, choosing to go to a restaurant he’d been a regular in for quite some time. Yoongi books out a room in the back and texts YN the details, setting their meeting for the weekend.

When the day finally rolls around, Yoongi is more nervous than he has been in a long time. What if she recognizes him? Or worse, what is she stands him up altogether?

His fears are squashed when he sees her standing on the sidewalk, dressed too simply for the restaurant he booked.

“Hello,” Yoongi says, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide how nervous he is, “You’re YN right? I’m Min Yoongi, your neighbor.”

“Oh!” she says, brightening up and sticking her hand out to greet him, “It’s nice to meet you!”

He takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently and pretending not to notice the shivers that shoot through him.

“This is the place right?” she asks, taking her hand back and brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Actually,” Yoongi says, noticing the odd looks YN is getting based on her everyday outfit, “I was just going to pick food up here and then head to the park, if that’s okay. It has a really clear view this time of night.”

“That sounds great!” YN says.

Yoongi, slightly frantic with his new lie, heads up to the reservation counter and asks to speak to the manager, a close friend of his. A couple of hushed whispers later, Yoongi is given a bag of freshly cooked food, the producer not feeling even the slightest bit bad about taking someone else’s order.

“So . . . how have you been enjoying the Hills?” Yoongi asks as they stroll side by side to the park she always frequents.

They’re standing too far apart to be more than anything but acquaintances. Yoongi finds himself wishing she was closer so their arms would brush.

“It’s been really nice!” YN says enthusiastically, “Everyone has been so kind and it’s been so amazing to finally have time for myself.”

“Finally?”

“Oh!” YN remarks, “Yeah, I had a startup that just recently got sold. I decided to take a few months off before I began another business venture. What about you?”

The curiosity in her eyes tells Yoongi that YN truly has no idea who he is. He finds himself relaxing even more.

“I’m a producer, mainly. Sometimes I write songs as well,” he says shyly, stopping next to one of the picnic tables that sporadically dot the large park.

He sets the food down and sits opposite to her, leaving plenty of space between them.

“Really? That sounds so cool! I’d love to hear something you made one day.”

Her tone is nothing but polite but dread forms in Yoongi’s stomach. He hasn’t worked on many new projects at all and he doesn't think he has anything good enough to show this incredibly bright woman.

Yoongi’s face must betray his apprehension because YN backs off right away.

“It’s totally fine if you don’t want to share! When I was younger one of my cousins was really into art but she never showed anyone what she made. I get it, it can be really personal.”

“No!” Yoongi says a little too loudly, “I’d love to show you something. I was just surprised you asked.”

YN smiles and everything is right again. The rest of the night passes much too quickly for Yoongi’s tastes, but he leaves feeling more inspired than ever. For once, he actually cleans his entire apartment, preparing it for YN to come over. Bags and bags of trash are tossed away and candles are lit to rid the space of any lingering odors He takes extra care in preparing his studio, hiding all the evidence of months of frustration in drawers and sitting down with a melody stuck in his brain.

She visits a week later. YN is more than surprised how clean Yoongi’s apartment is. She has learned quite a lot about him through all the texts they’ve exchanged and he never rubbed her as a clean freak. Methodical? Sure. Not the best at expressing emotions? Definitely. But the cleanest person she’s ever met? That’s a new one.

Yoongi is a little dressed up when he answers the door. His smile is wide and almost childlike, adorable in a way that has YN smiling as well.

They make small talk over the treats she brought over (cookies this time) before Yoongi leads her to a large room in the back of the house.

It’s breathtaking. Expensive devices line every open surface of the studio, all gleaming under the overhead lights. The studio walls are lined with records even she can tell are rare, each encased in a glass frame. A large couch is pushed against one wall with a coffee table in front of it, tastefully decorated with magazines and small plants.

“This is amazing, Yoongi,” YN says, half breathless.

Yoongi can hear his own heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears at the way stars seem to have shifted into YN’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “Would you like to hear what I’ve been working on?”

He needs to work up the courage now before he comes up with an excuse to never show YN the song he’s been working on so diligently day in and day out.

“Of course!”

Yoongi had pulled an extra chair in front of his computer in advance and she takes a seat, waiting eagerly for Yoongi to pull up his masterpiece. His fingers shake ever so slightly as he pulls it up and presses play.

He doesn’t think he takes a breath during the entire three and a half minute long song. How could he? It’s not every day you show the love song to the woman you’ve been watching for almost two months.

“Yoongi,” YN says when it finishes.

He feels his heart clench.

“That was beautiful! Who’s it about?”

“Who?”

“It’s a love song right? Are you in love with someone?”

Her question is innocent but it sends Yoongi into a panic.

“Yeah, actually,” he says, looking at anyone but her, “You.”

For a moment everything is silent. Neither of them breathe.

“Oh,” YN says.

Yoongi never knew two letters could crush him.

“I’m flattered but . . . I don’t really see you as anything more than a friend . . .”

YN trails off, not exactly sure what to say. She’s never been the romantic type. She always figured she’d fall in love when it was time but that time certainly isn’t now. She’s just barely figuring out who she is herself. She doesn’t have space in her heart for anyone else.

“Ah . . . I wasn’t expecting you to . . . um . . .”

Yoongi stutters out words at random trying desperately hard to not make things any worse than they already are.

“Maybe I should go . . .” YN says.

She doesn’t wait for his answer, simply standing up and leaving, casting one more glance at the hunched over man behind her. Her red heels click against the floor, fading when she leaves the home.

For the next two weeks, Yoongi texts her constantly. YN can barely go ten minutes without her phone buzzing with an apology or an offer for lunch. If she felt bad about rejecting him at first, YN is glad she did now. He’s behaving obsessively and it’s beginning to creep her out. Finally, she’s had it altogether, sending him a curt message demanding he never talks to her ever again and blocking his number straight away.

For a time, everything seems okay. Min Yoongi leaves her life just as swiftly as he had entered it. She’s almost forgotten about it altogether, until she’s stuck in traffic one evening. YN is listening to the radio, head bopping mindlessly along to the beat of a song she doesn’t know. But then the chorus starts and the hair on her arm stands on end.

Really, is it strange to fall in love? Really, is it odd that I want more? You flew in just like a turtle dove, pure and sweet, I only wanted your love. Maybe I should have locked you away? Maybe I should have clipped your wings? Then at least I know you’d stay? Stay, forever here with me.

Normally, YN wouldn’t have paid it any attention, but something about the song is so eerie that she begins to get creeped out.

Another male voice joins the singer.

Sweet like cinnamon, bright as the sun, soft, so soft, I needed you to melt into me. Salvation came in a wicker basket and left in bright red heels. Maybe I should have had something better to say, maybe then, you wouldn’t have rushed away.

Ignorance is bliss, but baby you’re all I think about. I couldn’t ignore you if I tried, if I wanted to. Ignorance is bliss, baby, but euphoria lives next door.

The song fades and the host’s voice floats out afterward.

“That song was ‘Red Heels and Cinnamon’ by Dave Kim and Min Yoongi. This song has been the most popular song on the charts for weeks! The famed producer and songwriter hasn’t given the press much background on the story, simply commenting that it’s something close to his heart and that more songs with this new vibe will be releasing soon.”

Release they did. Hit song after Hit song comes out, each creepier than the one before. If YN was able to convince herself that the songs weren’t about her, they became impossible to ignore. Yoongi next released a song about a woman with aspirations and no room for love, followed by one about a man following the woman he loved to make sure she was okay. That song detailed the entire events of her day.

And finally, Yoongi released a song giving out YN’s phone number.

Having had more than enough of this nonsense, YN knocks on Yoongi’s door, leaving her blaring phone behind.

He cracks the door open again before swinging it wide, looking much too pleased to see her.

“YN? I thought you never wanted to see me again. What are you doing here?”

“I know what you’re doing. Cut it out,” she hisses at him.

“Cut what out?”

“All of the songs! And the stalking! I know you’re following me!”

YN clenches her sweater closer to her body, trying to comfort herself. Yoongi looks down at it.

“You should have gotten the red one. It suits you better.”

Chill crawls down YN’s back and her limbs go stiff.

“What do you want from me,” she whispers, unable to look him in the eye.

“I feel something different when I’m around you. I feel alive - more motivated than I’ve ever been. All I want is for you to feel that same way.”

“And if I don’t?” YN asks, daring to look at him.

He’s silent for a moment. Yoongi’s expression darkens.

“That new firm that hired you as a consultant? The CEO’s daughter is a long time fan of mine. He’d do anything to keep her happy. Even replacing you . . .”

“But I can -” YN objects.

“Get a new job? Oh, sure. But I don’t think anyone would want to hire you if they knew what you did on May sixteenth.”

YN’s blood turns to ice. There are only a few things YN isn’t proud of and getting kicked out of a bar and then arrested after starting a fight is on the very top of that list. Thankfully, she had some connections to get her out of any charges and had swept the entire thing under the rug. But if it gets out . . .

“It’s up to you. Why don’t you come inside and see what I’m working on?”

Yoongi leaves the door wide open and retreats inside.

Hesitantly, YN follows after him.

#network bangtan #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere yoongi #yandere au #bts yandere au

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pinballwitxh · 5 years

Text

kickstart my heart - (request) - spencer reid x oc

REQUESTS - CURRENTLY ON HOLD

IF YOU ARE NOT 18+ DO NOT CLICK ‘KEEP READING’

summary: a night out with the team reminds spencer and his wife of what life was before kids. one babysitter later, an extra evening at the hotel and the night is finally there’s for the taking.

also yeah I love kickstart my heart by motley crue and I heard it earlier and I was like oh yes INSPIRATION

AND my first drunk karaoke song I ever sung was Don’t Go Breaking My Heart with my cousin at a small bar in Dallas and part of that experience helped me to write this lolololol if y’all ever want the video hmu LMAO

warnings: well if the request asked and the summary didn’t give it away there shall be SMUT, so much ~smut~ ; )

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this, anon! hope you enjoy this and have kept your eye out.

The team had just wrapped up another case and it wasn’t quite dark out, yet. Morgan smirked at each of his teammates before suggesting they check out one of the local bars down the street from the hotel and stay an extra night. JJ groaned and leaned against the SUV, “It’s so late,”

“My internal clock is so off,” Spencer’s wife sighed.

“You parents, have some fun!” Morgan exclaimed, “The night is still young,”

Spencer laughed, “Not when you have kids,”

Prentiss whined at them as well, followed up by a teasing Rossi. When Hotch said he would join Derek, though, the entire team couldn’t say no. When they arrived back at the hotel they made a call to their regular babysitter and booked another night along with the team.

it took so much control not to just snuggle up under the covers and go the hell to sleep. Which is exactly what Spencer tried to do.

“Nuh-uh, if I gotta go then you gotta go,” she reprimanded as she leaned over his limp body.

He groaned, “Go without me, I’ll come down in twenty minutes.”

“That really means ‘I’m going to sleep and never waking up,’“ she scoffed, “Come on, Spence, when was the last time we actually went out?”

“If I remember correctly it was five months and six days ago-”

“Stop stalling, get up.” she said as she shoved him playfully. It took her about five minutes to refresh herself and he jumped at her commanding voice, “Get up!”

- - -

Many drinks later his wife was slung over his shoulder and talking wildly about their first date. Their coworkers laughed at her many rabbit trails and funny quips, particularly towards Spencer’s awkward self. He blushed and took small drinks of his second cocktail, the beginning tingles of tipsiness finally making themselves known.

Rossi and Prentiss were currently up on the stage performing Don’t Go Breaking My Heart and having a wonderful, drunken time together. By the middle of the song everyone in the small bar was singing along with them and having just as much fun as the performers.

If only Garcia was here, then the bar would be ten times more rowdy and the drunk girl had to admit she missed her techie.

“Sing for us!”

Spencer and his wife turned to Morgan with quirked brows. Spencer immediately rejected but his wife, on the other hand, jumped at the idea. After much useless tugging and yanking on her husband she left him at the table and practically sprinted up to the stage.

“Oh, Jesus. . .” Spencer muttered to himself with a smile.

He hadn’t seen her this drunk since two New Year’s Eve’s ago.

The familiar guitar twang of a song very near to Spencer started up on the stereo. A blush spread across his face as each memory involving that song ran through his head rather fast.

It was playing the first time he saw her. The first time they kissed. At their wedding.

With her best effort she belted the beginnings of the song, unashamedly.

Soon the rest of the team was cheering her on with grins on their faces. The chorus unsurprisingly brought nearly the entire bar to singing with her. With a look in her eyes that Spencer hadn’t seen in a long time she approached him with swaying hips that made him nearly drool.

With an arm around his neck and the other holding the cheap microphone she dipped dangerously low in front of him. Morgan and Hotch roared with laughter at Reid’s wide eyes and deep red face. JJ was nearly crying from laughter and Prentiss merely nodded in admiration towards her drunk coworker.

Rossi sipped on his rum and coke, “Young people,” he rolled his eyes with a smile.

She ran a loose hand down the front of his chest before turning back around to belt the chorus. She had the entire team singing with her now, Morgan approached her to dance alongside her. Spencer smiled at the sight of his two friends attempting to dance and sing like they were actually on a stage.

The intense guitar solo slowed down along with her singing. With sultry eyes and a devilish grin, she approached her husband again. She raised one leg over his own in the chair, leaning down painstakingly close to his lips with her own. This, of course, was followed by many hoots and whistles from their friends.

For a minute there was no music or lyrics to be sung, only their eyes and their pounding hearts. That sweet and genuine smile he had grown to love over the years appeared on her features and she sealed the space between them.

Deeply she kissed him, pulling him closer by his tie. The whistles only grew longer now and he could faintly hear Morgan cheer, “That’s my Pretty Boy!”

Spencer’s hand grabbed at her hair, pulling her closer to him in a surge of confidence and deepening the kiss. Discreetly his tongue slid between her lips and he could have sworn he heard the faintest of moans from her. A tingle spread through his body straight to his core, definitely not from the drinking.

She nearly missed the last few lines of the song because she couldn’t pull away from him so soon. But when she did, the entire bar (which was about ten extra people) was in an uproar from the scene they had all witnessed.

- - -

They were the last ones to occupy the bar, talking quietly amongst themselves about the case and their everyday lives. Their buzzes had died down after ordering a few appetizers (and many glasses of water.) It was one of the few times the team could get together as a team and enjoy each other’s presence.

Spencer’s arm was wrapped tightly around her waist as they walked down the dimly lit hall to their hotel room.

“Think the kids are okay?” she asked quietly as they approached their door.

Spencer slid the key in, “Babysitter called me an hour ago, they’re asleep and didn’t cause her any trouble.”

She smiled, “That’s good,”

It was quiet as they undressed and got ready for bed, the dark circles underneath their eyes starting to appear. It was well past their ‘bedtime’ of ten o’clock and both of them were ready to knock out for the night.

Spencer looked up from his book when she opened the bathroom door clad in just a towel. Her hair was wet from her shower and he could faintly smell her soap and shampoo. His eyes roamed over her wet body, licking his lips subconsciously.

“Cat got your tongue?”

He glanced up to see her smirking slightly at him, pulling the towel tighter over her body in a (useless) effort to hide herself. She winked at him and leaned down to retrieve her pajamas and toothbrush.

Spencer’s eyes did not leave her body as she gathered her things and headed back into the bathroom. Once the door closed he was painfully aware of the growing bulge in his boxers, now.

As quietly as he could he walked to the bathroom door and knocked on it.

“You can come in, Spence, why are you knocking?”

He opened the door slowly and leaned against the doorframe, taking in her clean state. She glanced at him with a cocked brow, “Need something?”

“Definitely,” he responded.

She turned to him, “Excited to see me? Or is-”

“I’m definitely excited to see you,” he responded huskily, entering the bathroom completely now.

He shut the door behind him and smiled at her, “Tonight, when you were singing, t-that was. . .um. . .”

She blushed, “I know, I felt it too.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve had a night just to ourselves,” he sighed, relieved she was feeling the same way, “I love the kids, but I miss all the time we used to have.”

“Well we have plenty of time tonight, don’t we?” she responded.

He smiled at her and took her into his arms. She wrapped them around his neck and stood on the tips of her toes to meet his lips halfway. He smiled within the kiss, tasting the faint remainder of toothpaste on her tongue. She squeaked when he wrapped his arms underneath her and hoisted her up onto his waist. She gratefully wrapped her legs around his middle and smiled down at him.

“We’re gonna slip on the tile floor if this continues in here,” she whispered in his ear, kissing beneath his lobe.

He nodded in agreement before releasing a sigh and carrying her out of the bathroom. She landed against the bed with a smile and uncontrollable, small giggles. Spencer loomed over her body with lustful eyes, drinking in the sight of his wife beneath him. Drops of water were still scattered over her shoulders and inner thighs and her hair was pressed against the sides of her hair, still damp.

“You’re so,” he paused, “Well, I couldn’t think of a better word than hot after the performance you gave tonight.”

“Had you thinking about that the rest of the night?” she teased, pulling him down by the collar of his night shirt.

He kissed her neck slowly, “That had me thinking of many things, tonight,”

She sighed as he peppered kisses up and down her neck, suckling on her collarbone just the tiniest bit. Hastily she pulled him away and attacked his lips in a much more needy way than she had tonight. Their tongues swirled around each other and explored the insides of each other’s mouths and teeth clattered against each other in the intense lip-lock.

His hands slowly pulled the towel off of her body that she had been keeping from him all night and he nearly growled at the sight of her. He leaned down to take one of her hard nipples into his mouth, tugging and nipping at it ever so slightly.

She shivered against the contact and arched her back at the feeling of his mouth around herself. Goosebumps spread all over her body and she wanted nothing more than to make love to him all night.

Slowly he kissed down her stomach, fingertips trailing over all the stretch marks from her pregnancies. It made her smile to think of the family she had with Spencer, and how she would never have wanted to start one with anyone else.

His lips hovered over her dripping core, placing sweet kisses all along her inner thighs. She giggled at the ticklish sensation and leaned back into the fluffy bedspread. Pure bliss took over her senses as Spencer finally dipped his head between her legs.

She gasped when his lips finally met her aching center, his hot breath creating quite a contrast to her exposed self. His tongue roamed between her folds and lapped up every drop of liquid as she squirmed beneath his strong hold on her hips. She couldn’t contain the very loud moan of his name as his tongue dove inside her, rubbing against her insides and creating a friction she craved.

“Fuck me, please, Spencer,” she moaned out, hardly able to hold herself back anymore.

He pulled away with glossy lips and a sweet smile, “I’ve been waiting all weekend for this,” he said as he stripped himself of his shirt and boxers. Her eyes widened at the sight and ushered him to come closer, running her hands up and down his chest with a kind of greed that made him even harder.

“Don’t keep yourself waiting, then.”

He kissed her long and hard as he lined himself up with her entrance. Slowly he pushed himself inside of her, groaning at the warmth that surrounded his length now. She let out a sharp gasp at the feeling of him filling her completely.

It had been quite some time since they had been intimate.

Spencer began to pump inside and out of her slowly, “Fuck, I needed this so bad,” he groaned.

She pulled him close and kissed him, “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too,” he said before beginning to pump himself once more.

As Spencer gained speed the friction between their bodies grew stronger and hotter. She could feel her juices leaking all over his cock, it made her feel so young again. Sex was rare with the kids around, now, only making the spontaneous fucking even more hot.

If that was possible.

He pulled away and stood at the edge of the bed, pulling her legs close to wrap around his middle as he began to pound into her. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from her bouncing body beneath him, her face twisted in pleasure and the sweetest moans coming from her perfect mouth. One of his hands went to her breast, squeezing it tightly as he rammed faster into her.

“I’m gonna cum,” she moaned, “Oh shit, Spence!”

He nodded, “Do it, cum for me, love.”

Just as her orgasm hit he placed both of her hands above her head, threading his long fingers between her own. She let out heavenly moans that made him twitch inside of her as she clenched around him, rocking her hips against his. He watched as she rode out her high, her moans becoming quieter chants of his name.

“Cum for me, Spencer.” she whispered, pulling his head down close to her.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck, picking up his pace once more. She wrapped her legs around his back, giving him a better angle that made both of them moan simultaneously. The closer he got to the edge, the harder he sucked on her neck.

His orgasm rocked his entire being as he spilled himself inside of her. She placed a hand on his cheek and brought him in for heated kiss as he bucked his hips against hers, riding out his high. Soon his bucks became quick and sharp twitches against her until he finally collapsed over her sweaty body.

They remained like that for a few moments, panting heavily in each other’s ears and shutting their eyes in exhaustion. He pulled away from her neck and pushed the strands of hair away from her eyes, smiling down at her. She gazed up at him with a smile of her own and pecked his lips, “We should have date night every week if it turns out like this,” she panted.

He laughed and kissed her forehead, “I think we could manage that,”

- - -

The team were waiting patiently in the lobby for the couple to make their first appearance of the day. Emily had not-so-subtly hinted that they had been busy for at least part of the night before she finally fell asleep.

Morgan’s eyes gleamed with mischief as the couple finally arrived from the elevators. Spencer groaned at the sight of his friend giving him a thumbs up, whereas his wife was basking in the glory.

“Don’t encourage him,” Spencer grumbled.

She scoffed, “I just got laid by my incredibly attractive husband last night, there’s no way I can hide it.”

Spencer smiled at the comment and slung an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Well, when you put it that way. . .”

“Heard you two lovebirds had a ‘busy’ night?” Morgan clapped Reid on the shoulder with a grin.

“You didn’t hear them, I did!” Emily exclaimed as they gathered their luggage.

Spencer and his wife blushed to the tips of their ears but smiled at their friends nonetheless. Hotch held the door open for his teammates with a very small smile on his face, “Last night was fun, but we need to get home and get some much-needed rest.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and followed after each other to the SUVs parked outside. Before she slid into her seat, Spencer laid a forceful (but quiet) slap to her ass. She turned to find him wearing a smirk that was so rare, it made the feelings from last night begin to bubble up inside of her once again.

Rossi rolled his eyes, having seen the entire exchange in the side mirror of the SUV.

“Save it for home, agent.”

THE MASTERLIST (MORE REQUESTS AND SPENCER FICS)

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #oc #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid smut #smut #spencer reid smut imagine #request #criminal minds request #spencer reid request

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pastthevaulteddoors · 4 years

Text

Work in Progress Wednesday

This is more a summary, unclean vision of a story I thought up of. I'm not a huge mpreg fan, but I fell in love with a few Loki/Tony Stark get preggers due to MAGIC some years ago so that trope kind of stuck with me. Forgive me if it's not your thing.

The basic story; at a tense conference at Carp Tower, Lan Xichen offers to share his usual pavilion rooms with his brother and brother-in-law because of how packed the place is with unexpected guests.

Due to magic experimentation and an unexpected sexy times with Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao in the adjoining rooms, everyone is caught up in a pregancy spell of WWX's doing. That same night, unrest causes uproar inside Carp Tower and allies of WWX are forced to flee.

Things happen, Jin Guangyao gets separated and ends up in a fog that causes memory loss. He's found by an old farming couple, and they agree to take him on as a hired hand while he tries to piece together the mystery of his amnesia. They call him Li.

At the same time, he's very concerned that he's getting a belly rather quickly on a farmer's diet. Six months later, and he's convinced that whatever stole his memories also implanted a demon inside of him. He's looking for help get it out with cultivators in town when he hears of the famous WWX becoming pregnant as a man! He puts two and two together and realizes that he must have some connection to him, as the farmer's wife did joke about his symptoms being similar to when she had her children.

The following is my sorta written part I wanted to share. Enjoy!

A few days later, a small group of shadows drifted down from the skies into the village. And there Li saw the most beautiful man he’d ever seen; tall and dashing, eyes full of kindness in reserve yet brimmed with worry and hope. He, along with a few others, began to ask around for the famed Lanling advisor.

Li, however, was shy to approach. The thumping of his heart frightened him and he knew that his heart belonged to another (he merely didn’t know who that person was). Then he spotted a man in black with a wicked smile and a belly nearly as full as his own.

It was him! It was the famous demonic cultivator, Wei Wuxian. If the ebony flute and equally famed husband at his side didn’t give him away, then the rounded and full belly did! Everyone by now knew of his exploits.

He approached him as he (was forced to) rest on he porch of an inn. He looked bored and his lower lips protruded in a pout. He swung his flute around by the tassle as he watched the tiny town move about their daily lives.

Li didn’t dare rise up to the porch itself, and instead remained on the road. He offered a deep bow to Wei Wuxian, low and humbled. All he wanted to do was ask his advice about this strange growth in his stomach, he did not expect a loud cheer. Nor did he expect the overstuffed man to catipult himself over the porch railing and slam himself to Li’s side in an enthustiatic hug.

The following, babbling conversation ensues;

“You’re alive!”

“Y-yes, I am.”

“YOU’RE ALIVE!”

“You know me?”

“Yes, yes, I do! And you’re… pargarant? Pargerent!? Tweleve plus two weeks… PRAGRANT!!”

“Am… I don’t understand. Am I an experiment of yours?”

“What- no! No way! That means…” Wei Wuxian counts on his fingers. “You snuck into the pavilion the last night at Carp Tower, didn’t you? You dog!”

“I am not a dog!”

“Why didn’t you come find us? Everyone was worried sick about you.”

“I can’t. I couldn’t. I-“

Then a soft, deer-like tone sounds through the mess of conversation. “A-Yao,” it says sweetly, dearly, so full of enduring emotions that it makes Li’s heart ache from the purity of it all. Li turns to the beautiful sound and is captured by the deep hazel eyes of the tall man in white.

His eyes brim with happy tears, that hope spilling over like fountains in a garden. “A-Yao,” he says again, and Li knows that this must be home. He lets himself be swept away in another hug, and this one he returns. This stranger he does not know fills his heart with so many complex and happy emotions; his mind might not remember but his heart certainly does.

When they finally regain their composure, both are smiling widely, but then Li breaks the moment when he asks, “I’m sorry but, who are you?”

Lan Xichen’s face falls, even as he strokes Li’s cheek with his hands. “What do you mean?”

“The demon mist,” another voice calmly interrupts. It’s another tall, beautiful man in white. But certainly not as beautiful as the one in his arms.

“That’s right!” Wei Wuxain chimes in. “That distorts and wipes memories. Jin Guangyao must still be afflicted.”

“And pregnant,” Lan Wangji notes that huge belly.

It’s at that the Lan Xichen moves his hands to Li’s belly. His touch is far too familiar to be one of simple friendship. They must have been very close. Then, he suddenly gives a sharp look to the couple.

“What?” Wei Wuxian shrugs innocently, even as he takes a half step behind his husband. “We told you guys we were trying for a baby. How was I supposed to know you two would get wrapped up in that magic circle.”

Lan Xichen shakes his head. “Perhaps we should reconvene inside where there are fewer prying ears and eyes.” He then smiles once more to Li and it again makes his heart swell with joy. “I hope my brother-in-law was not too crude before I arrived.” He moved to escort Li inside when he stopped dead.

“Brother-in-law?” Li asks, astonished, eyes wide. He then glances to Wei Wuxian, then the stern man in white beside him. Of course, he heard of his famously disowned husband, Lan Wangji, who is brother to… “You’re Sect Leader Lan?!” he belts out before he can stop himself. When his mind catches up to this, of standing before one of the major sect leaders, he bows suddenly and low. “I apologize for causing you any troubles.”

#work in progress wednesday #work in progress #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #xiyao #wangxian #lan xichen #jin guangyao #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mpreg

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mrwinterr · 4 years

Text

The Consequence [5]

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Charles Blackwood x Female Reader

Summary: The reader is in search of Charles Blackwood as he’s been missing for several days and not once considering the warning that no good ever comes from being associated with a Blackwood.

Warnings: We Have Always Lived in the Castle spoilers (book and film). Semi/non-canon elements to the original story. Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, oral [female receiving], dirty talk/degradation, a bit of anal play) and mentions of violence [choking, slapping].

Title Inspiration: “The Consequence” by You Me At Six

Disclaimer: There are characters, dialogue and references from the actual book and film, We Have Always Lived in the Castle. They belong to the author and I take no credit for any of these elements.

A/N: It only took about six months, but here’s an update! I’m also currently working on a separate Charles Blackwood one shot, so if you love this bad boy you know where to find it.

P A S T

Going against your parents’ wishes, you continued to see Charles. Their disapproving looks or muttered comments didn’t bother the two of you whenever he’d come to pick or drop you off back home. It was safe to say he wasn’t welcomed back in. The relationship you had with your parents was even more strained than ever now. You were surprised you hadn’t been disowned sooner, but none of that didn’t seem to concern you at all especially since most of your thoughts and priorities were preoccupied and focused on one person.

One time, Charles had decided to plan a trip to a cabin where you both were secluded. He allowed you to roam and drag him through the fields and he’d even just watch you write in the small notebook you always carried. It was the first of many trips Charles would take you on. You’d replay that moment and believe that’s when you fell in love with him. Your dad none but gave you a sermon-length lecture after you hadn’t returned for almost a week, a week away with Charles, without notifying them. Your parents weren’t stupid. They knew you were with him. It was tough on them to see their daughter run with the Devil and only hoped you’d see the light before it was too late.

When Charles’ dad passed away, you tried to be sad, but you couldn’t. You didn’t need to hide that because Charles didn’t seem to be too phased by the loss either. The man wasn’t much any kind to you as your own father was. Charles inherited everything since he was the remaining member of his immediate family, so then you start to spend the night at his home and while it wasn’t traditional you still continued to stay.

You’d begun to notice the stares from people in Charles’ village. A lot of woman flocked to him and a lot of men talked about him. Sometimes those women made you feel small. It was a harsh little town compared to yours. They were in an entirely different league than of your own. Charles never gave you the impression of unfaithfulness, but he sensed the insecurity.

While you were confident enough to trust he wouldn’t purse them, that didn’t mean you were okay with how he welcomed the attention he got from other women. Most times you just sat or stood there taking it, but when it was the other way around, he became somewhat of a madman.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, ripping your hand out of Charles’ hold, and walking out of a seemingly friendly conversation you both were having with an “old friend” of his. How dare they bring up topics that purposely didn’t include you as if you weren’t standing right there? It was rude, you thought to yourself. If it was her job to make you uncomfortable and leave, she was successful in doing so.

Not to mention things weren’t going in your favor as of late and Charles’ recent actions back there didn’t help at attempting to turn things around. You’d been able to finish school not too long ago and were unsure of how to kickstart your own career and your father slowly started cutting you off at home, probably more so in retaliation of your relationship with Charles, plus there was no support from your mother and your siblings no longer looked up to you.

So, really, seeing the one person that was supposed to be the positive in your life acting like this didn’t sit well with you. You were almost to a breaking point. It made things even more muddy in your mind when you don’t fail to notice how he wasn’t the first one to chase after you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Your mind was too clouded by anger to even acknowledge the kind person checking up on you. You had scurried out of the mansion owned by one of Charles’ friends, who was throwing a party for whatever reason you weren’t sure of. He might’ve told you, but your mind had been miles away at the time.

When you turn your head, you notice it’s the friend who was hosting this party. You’d met him only a handful of times and he seemed genuinely nice for what he had been blessed with. He had hundreds of other guests to attend to and yet here he was outside worrying about a woman he barely knew.

“Oh, hey,” you greet him trying your best to calm down. You weren’t mad at him, so it wouldn’t be fair to ruin his mood too, “…yeah. I just needed to get some fresh air.” Complete lie. You were trying to figure out a way to walk to the nearest station, in heels, to get you back home without encountering Charles.

“Are you sure that’s all you came outside for?” He pried.

“What did you see?” You sigh giving up the act. You weren’t that good at hiding your emotions as of late. In addition, you accidentally bumped into one of the servers on your way out, causing a small uproar from a woman whose dress you ruined in the process.

“Not much other than Charles trying his best to calm the lady who is demanding you pay for her dress that she said you ruined,” he replied.

“Fucking brat,” you mutter as an insult to the woman. She could very well have afforded a new one on her own and it was just a dress after all.

“I don’t think that’s all that is bothering you.”

“What do you think is bothering me?” You ask him, your body now fully turned to face his. He’s studying your demeanor, arms crossed in defense and a tired look on your face, while he has his hands in his pockets, causing the ends of his suit jacket to bunch up at the wrists.

“I think it’s something a little more than you let on and Charles doesn’t care.”

You shake your head at the accusation. “No, Charles cares about me,” you say trying to convince not just him, but also yourself.

“Really? Then why am I here and not him?” He challenges you and your jaw visibly ticks because you can’t answer that. Why wasn’t Charles out here instead of his friend? You really just want to scream.

“I want to go home,” was all you said. He nods his head and offers to give you a ride back to your shared home. You hesitate not wanting to take him away from his own party, but since it was almost coming to an end, he waived it off assuring you that the party could go on without him for the rest of the night.

The majority of the ride back is silent as he drove. It was between a bit of a blessing and a curse in disguise. For one, you weren’t willing to be asked or answer any doubting questions about your relationship with Charles to someone and two, the silence only ate at you the more time you had to yourself to examine each of those doubts. At least you were able to hitch a ride back on your own and avoid confronting Charles for a little while longer.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks as he puts the car in park by the gateway of the house. He takes the silence as a yes and continues. “Why are you with him?”

“What?”

“Charles. What do you see in him?”

“I don’t-“ you start, not really understanding where he’s going with this.

“Look, you seem like a nice girl. I’d hate to see something bad happen to you because of a Blackwood.”

There it was. Did the whole world just have it out for Charles? You let his words sink in for a moment. He realizes he’s not going to get a definite answer out of you right then, but his words definitely do leave a mark, so he takes this opportunity to get out of the car, crossover to your side and open the passenger door.

His words replay over and over in your head combined with what your family had been telling you this whole time. He notices the concentrated look on your face and carefully places his hands on your arms to bring you back down.

“If things get too much for you with him, please, don’t hesitate to ask for help,” he says and hands you his card. You accept it and are about to thank him when you briefly look over his shoulder to the house, the infamous red car already parked out front. Charles had made it home before you. You thank him for the ride and bid him goodnight before starting the pathway up to the house.

The lights are on inside and you brace yourself for impact. The relationship with Charles wasn’t perfect, but what relationship didn’t have their faults? There were times you both argued, emotions getting the best of you and hurtful words were said, but the good mostly outweighed the bad. The good was enough to keep you around because you couldn’t convince yourself enough to find that elsewhere or without Charles.

You find him reclining in one of the chairs when you enter the house. He has his eyes closed and you can’t tell if he’s asleep or not. Had he been waiting long? When did he leave without you noticing? You didn’t stick around long enough to find answers and decide to head upstairs to the bedroom. The quicker you were out of these clothes, the quicker you could get in bed and forget about the whole night. To your surprise Charles doesn’t budge and you’re not sure if you should be scared about that. Whatever. He can sleep there.

You carelessly toss the thin dress you were wearing on the seat of your vanity and drop the card on the table before heading into the bathroom to freshen up.

“You don’t have anything to say for yourself for what happened back there?”

You almost drop one of your earrings down the drain of the sink when you hear Charles’ voice. When you recover from the small jump it caused you, you ignore his question and proceed with your nightly routine.

“Really?” He scoffs and you watch him from the mirror. You can see him from behind you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, a sick smile on his face; one that shows he can’t believe you’re acting like this.

“You fucking embarrassed me in front of everyone,” he starts, the tone of his voice is harsh, and the cold smile quickly evaporates. He’s trying to keep his anger under control, and you hope he does because the few times you’d seen him get angry was frightening. But he was making it hard for you when he was talking like that, especially right now.

“You were embarrassed?” You throw the question back at him. Him? Embarrassed? If anyone felt embarrassed it was you. “You embarrassed me!” You say pinning the blame on him and throwing an accusing finger his way.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asks, his hands now on his hips. You notice he’d ditched the suit jacket and he’s left in his white button down and slacks whereas you were in your bra and panties, but you didn’t care.

“I stood there like a fucking idiot in front of what’s her name!”

“Is that it? You’re jealous?”

“No! That’s not it! It’s not the first time something like that has happened. You let them play me like a fool and for what?” He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re not done. “You don’t seem to notice that I’ve been unhappy lately and the worst part of it all is that you don’t even care. Do you even love me?”

The words just kept coming out and you couldn’t stop them from doing so. You see how he straightens up, jaw clenching and eyes growing dark. No. You say to yourself and the take quick strides to him and slam the bathroom door right in his face, locking it immediately. It wasn’t one of your brightest ideas, but you already started digging your own grave hours ago.

You jumped back at the sudden slam of his fists on the door. He was mad, alright. He kicked and shouted repeatedly for you to open the door. When you didn’t, you could hear him resort to knocking around the furniture in the room, yelling about he didn’t deserve this attitude you were giving him. You leaned against the counter listening to his tantrum.

After several minutes, it’s silent. All you do is stare at the door while biting at your fingernails. You’re not sure if he’s still there and you don’t want to take the chance. You think maybe you can sleep in the bathtub tonight k use the towels as a makeshift blanket and pillow. When you move to pull the towels out from the tiny bathroom closet, Charles calls out to you calmly like as if he wasn’t just rioting on the other side.

“Baby, let’s not fight,” he says through the door, “I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention when you needed me to.” You let go of the towels and walk closer to the door to hear him out. You can almost feel him through it, “…you know I love you. I love you so much.”

You’re still unsure of what to do or how to respond. He wasn’t going to own up to his mistake that easily. This was just the calm before the storm.

“I mean…remember Italy, when I proposed to you. Remember how that felt? We can talk this out. Please, you have to open the door,” he begged.

You decide not to give in and instead head to the sink and turn the faucets all the way on to drown him out. It wouldn’t have been as loud as the shower, but you still needed a spot to sleep in, so the sink would have to do. He didn’t take kindly to that response and soon enough he was once again outraged. You hear him call you other nasty names before he’s threatening to walk out on you.

“I could just walk away. I could!”

“Then do it!” You shout back, louder than you’ve ever shouted before.

It has some effect on him because one good kick in and the next thing you know the door forcefully swings open. It’s definitely damaged on the other end and now so is the wall that it collided with.

Charles marches towards you, backing you up against the counter, and reaches behind you to shut the running water off. He grabs a hold of your face; his grip so tight you can’t talk back or look away.

“I’m really trying here and you’re making it so hard,” he sneers while his body presses against yours, and it hurts because the more he does so, the more the counter digs into your back. You let out a small whimper and he catches on.

Instead of letting you go, he grabs your wrists and yanks you out of the bathroom. You try to hold your ground, not allowing him to drag you out any further. You can’t even fight him because he’s that much stronger than you.

One pull towards him, you end up colliding into his chest. He wraps his arms around your frame, your legs lifts off the ground and kick wild in the air as he continues to carry you to the bed, where you both drop down, him on top. Your next point of action is to scream, but he’s always one step ahead of you and he clamps your mouth shut with his large hand. You can smell the material of his corresponding engagement ring under your nose, but his hand is slightly blocking your airway, only causing you more stress.

The fight you put up is enough to tip him on the brink of insanity when you feel a sharp sting spread across your cheek. Your vision changes from him to the wall; he hit you. You’re really scared now. He’s never been this violent towards you. Stray tears escape your eyes and burn your ears as you’re made to look at him and stare back at a different set of eyes, not the ones you’d fallen for. His face so close to yours, your body is pinned down rendering you almost invalid underneath him and he wasn’t letting up. You think you could die this way.

“Stupid little girl,” he belittles while slipping his belt off and tying it uncomfortably tight around your wrists in front of you. Your jaw was still aching, so screaming wasn’t an option anymore and all of his weight was on your legs at this point.

“You think he’s going to love you?” He says referring to his friend from the party. He must’ve seen you both outside. Then he confirms it as he produces the card from his pocket that you were given earlier and rips it to pieces in front of you, scattering it all over your face.

Struggling against him wouldn’t get you anywhere, so when he realizes you’ve caught on, he begins wiping at your tearstained cheeks and place soft kisses all over and down your neck all while more and more of his clothing comes off.

You can feel a hardness against your thigh, and you try to swallow down the bile in your throat at the thought of him getting turned on by all of this. He gropes at your breasts through your bra and you wince at his rough handling. The noise you make causes his blood to rush and you feel his cock twitch. It barely grazes your clothed core.

He then flips you over like a rag doll and yanks your panties off down your legs. Your hair clouds your view of anything, and arms start to become numb from your crushing weight. He’s now caressing the plushest asset of your body before he runs a finger through your pussy folds. Your legs tense up at the feeling, a sign that your body is slowly starting to betray you.

Charles pushes a finger in, so deep you can feel the coolness of the ring at the end of his finger. It’s feels quite nice in contrast to the sting of the intrusion you weren’t exactly wet enough and ready for. That didn’t pose as a problem to Charles because he knew your body better than you did and he slowly began to pump his finger in and out of you, gradually inserting another and eventually in speed.

You tried your damn hardest to stifle your moans by managing to get a mouthful of the bedsheets your face was planted in. Your teeth’s hold wasn’t strong enough when Charles lifts your hips up in the air, causing the rest of your body drag along the linen. Your eyes snap open when you felt the tip of his tongue dart out and lick all the way from your clit to the end of your opening, dangerously close to your taint.

He teasingly bites, nibbles and pull at your now soaked folds that allow him to easily slip his fingers back inside you. What you don’t expect is for him to go back to your other hole. His fingers continue their assault and his tongue is suddenly pushing in and out then spreading more of his saliva all around the tight opening. This combination has your mind spinning and you don’t bite back anymore. You let out a feverish moan because it’s a whole new feeling and it felt awfully good.

You’re about to tether off the edge until he shoves your body away from his; your lower half losing balance and you fall onto your side. The position is awkward until he straightens you out. Charles removes the whips of hair splayed wildly all over your face, so you look at him head on. You take in his appearance, the way the ends of his hair curled from the sweat that’s built up, lips shinning, and the flare of his nostrils as he says his next words.

“Nobody is gonna love you like I do,” he reminds you before pushing in you torturously slow. He wanted to make sure you feel every inch all the way to the very bottom.

You groan letting your head lull back. Your thighs begin to quake, and you know he’s holding back only to spite you.

“There’s never going to be another like me,” he continues to taunt, but with each new remark that comes out of his mouth, the more force is added to his thrusts.

“I’m going to ruin them all for you,” the next thrust knocks the wind out of you; you can feel his balls slap right up against you too, “ ...you’re never going to forget the feeling of my cock,” and then he’s uncontrollable after that, pounding into you so hard, you can almost feel the bruises form as your hip bones knock each other’s.

“You’re fucking mine,” he says slowing down momentarily. You turn your head to the side as you writhe underneath him, but he takes it as a sign of refusal. He wasn’t pleased with that because it earns you another slap to the face before he is forcing you to look at him. A hand encircles your throat, and his fingers start to dig in, “...say it!” He demands.

The restraint on your wrist don’t allow much extension for your arms, your fingers uncalculating reach out to try and get him to loosen the grip around your throat. The little scratches of your fingernails to his palm are enough for him to catch on, and you’re quick to oblige to the command, chanting you belong to him until you’re out of breath. His pace speeds up again and you want to touch him so bad, it hurts more than the leather that’s digging in your skin as your wrists try desperately to break free.

Charles pushes his lips to yours when he comes, unloading deep inside you. Your back arches feeling rope after rope of his thick cum pool in you, a warm feeling spreading all over that sends you down into oblivion with him. He growls against your lips at how your walls suffocate his sensitive cock.

He lets go of your legs once he feels them stop quivering from the orgasm and gently pulls out. Not much of his cum seeps out because of how deeply he rooted it. Your eyes are closed trying to collect yourself, but also, you’re not sure if you’re ready to look at him just yet. You don’t sense his presence and imagine he’s either looking at you or worse he’s left.

You twitch at the sudden feeling of the cool damp cloth that touches your legs, but quickly relax when you realize Charles is cleaning you. You watch as he handles you delicately down there; his whole demeanor changed back to your Charles. You hear the splotch of the cloth being thrown aside and then he begins loosening up his belt around your wrists. You don’t get to attend to the wounds because he’s already inspecting and kissing at the sore skin. He helps you slip out of your bra to relax more before bringing you under the covers with him.

He cradles your body close to his. He lovingly rubs your face with the pad of his thumb trying to soothe away the residing pain he caused you there. You fall asleep through the night to constant apologies and whispers of I love you.

It’s a few days after and that night almost became unspoken, but you pushed though it and the pain aside because you had something important to do.

You lugged the suitcase that contained the remainder of your belongings at your parents’ home as you trudged down the stairs. Your siblings trailed along right behind you before stopping behind your mother’s legs.

“You’ve lost your damn mind!” You hear your dad shout at you.

You came here to announce your engagement to Charles and invite them to the wedding. Charles didn’t see a point in extending the invite, mostly knowing they would never approve of him, but it was important to you and he promised after that particularly intense night he vowed he would listen to you.

You were a fool to think this would go out any other way. Your parents would never accept Charles and in doing so, it meant they weren’t going to accept you. It was the final straw that had you officially wanting out. You hated the thought of leaving and most likely never seeing your siblings again, but they were being brought up to believe you weren’t redeemable anymore.

Your parents start to argue over one another trying to get you to reconsider eloping, but you’ve already made your decision.

“Listen to me, child. No good will ever come out of being with a Blackwood,” your father said as a final warning that for a split second it halted your steps towards the front door.

The decision was made long ago.

You gather all your strength to lift up the luggage and walk right out the door to the shiny, red car and to the man that was inside it waiting for you.

Never once looking back, you’re determined and ready to live the rest of your life with Charles and hope you never have to hear those words of warning ever again.

P R E S E N T

It was lunchtime in the Blackwood household and you’re helping Constance set the table before Merricat’s arrival. Merricat expected it from Constance. You found it a little odd that Constance slaved around the house, while Merricat ran off to do whatever it is she does. You thought there was a lot of odd things about how the two of them lived after studying their routine. You couldn’t imagine how the rest of their family had been like.

Another odd occurrence that was happening, as days went on, more and more of your things went missing. You were finally able to let go of your notebook, but then it was a pen, a book and a shirt. You resorted to keeping your jewelry on while you slept or some things under your pillow. A coincidence one too many. You had a crazy hunch as to how some of your belongings had suddenly started to disappear, but you didn’t act on it just yet.

Merricat was up to something, alright. She often returned to the house dirty and a bit on edge the more you tried to talk to her about anything. Your patience was almost running thin here. You tried being nice to them, and while it was effortless with Constance, Merricat was a different story.

You await on a Tuesday to start forcefully finding answers. Why Tuesday? Because Tuesdays is when Merricat goes into town to run some errands.

It seemed as if every waking moment in this house was spent tidying up the place. Did they ever take a break? The place was huge, you weren’t sure what part of the house you were cleaning in anymore.

An attempt to sweep up some debris, you find a charred piece of newspaper from the Shirleyville Herald, the headline read Blackwood Mansion Horror, and below it briefly detailed of an at home murder. You shoved aside more of the wreckage of the fire and found more pieces of what looked like more newspaper clippings. It was horrifying, seeing pictures of dead bodies, Constance’s mug shot and so on. It became overwhelming, and you threw the mess away on your way out of that room.

“Where are you going?” Constance asks catching your attention on the way out.

“I need some air,” you reply and walk out the front door; not another word exchanged.

You start on the path down the walkway that you always saw Merricat take on her way to town. You’re not looking to go there. No, because the last thing you needed was to be ridiculed by the townspeople. Instead, you decide to just wander around in the quiet woods. You don’t know how long you need, but you start to think how appealing it seemed to be out here than in the castle nearby. It was peaceful.

The mirage is broken when you hear a crack. You look down and notice you were stepping on broken glass. Luckily, you were wearing thicker footwear today, but you didn’t let that distract you from the mess underneath. There were tons of glass scattered around, it looked to be of broken mason jars stuffed with cloth and random objects, except they weren’t random at all. You inspected further the contents of the jars and realized they were your missing belongings.

It had to be her. It had to be Merricat. The dirty appearance and the fact she was hardly around the house. She was stealing your things under your nose and burying them and for what? It was so confusing to you.

There was one thing that wasn’t in a jar, but rather had a nail piercing through it. You reach over and grab the item and carefully yank the nail out of it. When you opened it, a flood of emotions ran through you as you realized it was your notebook. You were relieved you’d found it, but you were also outraged that she took something so precious from you and desecrated it.

You continue to flip through the pages until a page falls out. It was folded and didn’t match the paper of your notebook. You want to cry the moment you recognize the handwriting as you unfold to read the letter addressed to you. It was dated about a week before you got here.

“My darling,

It’s going on a full week since I’ve last seen you. A full week since I’ve last held you, kissed you, touched you – I miss you. I’m not one to write, but you always told me that it helps in difficult times, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m taking your advice and writing, writing to you and only you.

The paper starts to crumble between your fingers from how tightly you’re clutching onto it. Your heart starts to quicken its pace and you’re trying your best to stop your hands from shaking.

I should’ve told you where I was going. I didn’t lie when I told you I came out here to take care of financial things and boring stuff. I came here to help my family. You probably don’t know, but my aunt and uncle lost their lives a few years ago and their surviving daughters and our uncle Julian inhabit the home.

I never told you about this because I didn’t want it to scare you away. Although, I’m almost certain your parents might’ve already told you about everything. Let me tell you about my dear cousins. Cousin Mary doesn’t like me, but at least Constance does. Constance insists that cousin Mary likes me, but I could tell the moment I arrived she hated me. Oh, and uncle Julian seriously needs to see a doctor. The way they live, it isn’t healthy. They don’t even own a damn phone!

Look, I’ll just say it. There’s a large amount of money here and I want a cut of it. I came here to make sure I get something and enough for me to take care of you when I come back home.

You knew the intent was for him to never send you this letter. Charles writing this letter was for him to let off some steam or find some way to help ease his guilt. He always told you he didn’t believe in that method, but you were relieved to find this because it was big clue. You also knew that he was greedy sometimes and the money part didn’t surprise you at all.

I can’t wait to get out of this crazy town. You’d hate it here. I’m never taking you to this god forsaken place.

I’m thinking about the night we watched the sunset over Florence from the top of the Duomo. You looked so beautiful. A picture couldn’t capture the magic I saw in you. I knew I made the right call in asking you to marry me. I look forward to returning to you for forever.

Love, Charles.”

A floodgate of emotion wrecks through your body when you finish reading the letter. You don’t keep the tears at bay because this is the first sign of Charles you’d received in weeks. He had in fact been staying here, so you were on the right trail. Then you start to think about how this letter even found its way between the pages of your notebook. The girls had to know more than what they let on and you intended to find the truth.

You tuck the notebook under your arm and start to head back to the house. You make it back in time just right before dinner is about to be served. You internally scold yourself for failing to assist Constance with preparations. After all, you were still a guest to their home. You notice Merricat hadn’t made it in yet, which was no surprise.

It worked out in your favor because after you hid the notebook in the area you were sleeping in, Merricat’s absence allowed you some alone time with Constance. You asked her about any other surviving relatives and if they’d come to visit lately. You don’t miss the slight strike in fear of emotion that slips through her smiling façade when she lies to you that no one has stopped by. You continue to interrogate her by saying you heard about other Blackwood family members coming through from the townspeople, but she dismisses it with other topics.

Constance uses your appearance as an excuse to end the uncomfortable conversation. You didn’t realize that you had dirt on your knees, forearms and hands. When you leave to wash up, you bump into Merricat. You stare her down for a moment before retreating to the bathroom.

Dinner is uncomfortably silent that night except for the request from Constance asking if you’d assist her in gardening tomorrow. You agree to helping her, hoping it’d bide you more time with her to ask more pressing questions.

Unsure of how long she’d been staring at you, you shift awkwardly in your chair as Merricat has her eyes fixated at the wedding band on your left hand.

A/N: One more chapter left! I know how I want this to end, but how do YOU want it to end? I’d love to read what you’re thinking! Thanks for reading!

#mrwinterr writes #charles blackwood imagine #charles blackwood smut #charles blackwood x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader

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thevengeanceuniverse · 4 years

Text

Truce? Ch 3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622497/chapters/63285697

They get caught up in the game, becoming so good at the pretending that it no longer feels like a chore. It starts being second nature for Bucky to order Tony something sugary to eat with his coffee because he’s secretly a child with an enormous sweet tooth. Tony learns that while Bucky can now make conversation with anyone at the galas, he likes the people involved in NGO work the most and secretly sets him up with sweatshop activists interested in shifting the labour to a manner that doesn’t horrendously violate human rights.

Bucky has had enough of organizations using people.

The culmination comes on Bucky’s birthday, which the team, minus Tony (and Bruce who baked Bucky a dozen cupcakes before retreating to his lab) tries to celebrate like normal people do. They go out to dinner in disguises that only work with varying success, drink innumerable bottles of champagne and eat cake that is so rich it feels like it’s giving them diabetes just from looking at it.

It turns out that supersoldiers can get drunk after all, if they have a god in their midst that brings Asgardian mead to the party. Everyone is overly enthusiastic about putting its powers to the test and they all end up various levels of wasted.

Stumbling back to the Tower at 3 am to order pizza and wings and all the other greasy food they can find, they’re confronted with Tony’s gift, which is just lying in wait for Bucky’s return.

A giant tank dominates a part of the space that Bucky was sure had a wall before. It is as long across as Bucky is high and swimming happily inside, in his miniature body of water decorated with what seems like thousands of dollars in plants, fish and castles as well as a state of the art filtration system, is a red-eared slider.

There’s a nameplate on the front of the tank, with the engraved words “Call me Crush.”

Bucky, of course, tries to thank Tony. Tony predictably tries to avoid it as long as possible.

Driven to desperation, Bucky does something he’s not proud of, but he would argue it was desperate circumstances. He enlists the PR team.

They arrange it so that Bucky and Tony are outside when the photographers catch them, so Tony absolutely cannot escape as the man he professes to love presses a sweet kiss to his cheek and thanks him happily. It’s absolutely chaste and leagues tamer than the majority of things that Tony Stark has been caught doing in public, but somehow it reduces Tony to the equivalent of a puddle of goo.

Even the sceptics are convinced the relationship is real when they witness Tony Stark transform into a blushing maiden at an innocent kiss, unable to form words until he ultimately just hides his red face in Bucky’s neck. He would obviously rather be anywhere else at the moment.

Bucky’s smug grin, on the other hand, tells the world he is utterly comfortable exactly where he is if that meant Tony Stark was in his arms.

“Tony, can you explain this to me please?” Pepper dropped a newspaper on Tony’s lab table.

“Oh my god,” Tony said, shocked. “Pepper, is this paper?”

“It’s not the paper that’s the focus here, Tony, it’s what on it!” She pointed at the image of Tony and Bucky plastered across the front page. “What is this?”

Tony glanced at it briefly, seeing a headline about his and Bucky’s fake romance and quickly turned away, forcing his mind to return to the problem he had been working on before Pepper had so rudely barged in. “What do you mean, what is that? That is the proof of my brilliant acting and everything going according to plan. I thought you would be happy.”

“This is not acting!” Pepper held up the paper in front of his face until he had no choice but to take a good look at it. It’s two pictures side by side. One is the famous still of Bucky’s thank you that had splashed all over the gossip channels, but the other was one he hadn’t seen before.

His face drained of colour as he stared at the image that must have been taken that day at the trampoline park, where Barnes had decided to blow his mind by showing him that while he didn’t dance, he sure as hell could.

The picture was one of him pressed up with his back against Bucky Barnes chest, held there by metal and flesh hands intertwined with his on his abdomen.

The closeness wasn’t the issue, it was the look of rapture on his face as Barnes dragged his lips across the exposed expanse of Tony’s neck, intent and seductive. It looked as if the photographer had caught them in a private moment, one that had never been meant to share with others. It’s what made it so enticing. That two fully clothed people in a photo had the ability to seem so indecent was one thing, but both photos together enlightened Tony to a damning discovery.

Tony gaped at the image, mortified. “What the hell is this?” Tony had no recollection of any of this happening. Was he drugged?

“No, you were not drugged,” Pepper answered, making Tony aware that he was speaking aloud. “Though that would more easily explain why you’re suddenly so chummy with Sergeant Barnes when six months ago you couldn’t stand being next to him.”

“We need to end it,” Tony said abruptly instead of answering, not wanting to touch his burgeoning relationship with Barnes with a 10-foot pole. “It’s the only smart thing to do. If we keep this going, people are going to expect us to stay together and it’s going to be even more of an uproar when we split up. We’ll make up something—say I cheated, people would believe that.”

“Tony, you’re not the same man you were years ago,” Pepper said, dragging a hand over Tony’s hair. “Are you sure you want to throw yourself under the bus in order to protect the Winter Soldier?”

“That’s just the thing, Pep,” Tony replied. “He’s not just the Winter Soldier anymore.”

“Bucky, I brought back food,” Steve announced as he walked into the apartment after his run, clad in t-shirt and shorts. Catching sight of Bucky sitting slumped on the sofa with a pillow clutched to his stomach, he dropped the smoothies and bagel sandwiches on the table and moved towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, “what’s wrong? Is it a bad day today?”

“No,” Bucky mumbled. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Steve said, sitting down next to his oldest friend and longest love. They had been through hell and back to be here, and even if he was still learning who the new man Bucky was, he knew when he was okay and when he wasn’t.

“It’s stupid. I just got a call from the PR people.” Bucky sighed. “They said that Tony thinks that it’s a good time to end our fake relationship. They’ll start the de-escalation sometime this week so in a few months we can naturally break it off.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Steve asked, shifting on the sofa to pull his feet up and crossing them. He knew that Bucky and Tony had been getting friendlier over the course of the last months, a real affection growing for each other as evidenced by Bucky’s birthday gift. When Bucky had walked in to see the enormous tank and his new turtle friend inside, drunk from the Asgardian mead—which Steve was going to treat with extreme caution from now on—he had grasped on the open edge of the tank and attempted to go swimming. To bond with his new friend.

Luckily, Thor (the only one still standing upright) had enough strength to dissuade Bucky from taking a dip with the turtle, convincing him that he would probably scare Crush and ruin their blossoming relationship. Bucky had pouted fiercely, but it had worked.

“No—I mean yes, of course, it’s good,” Bucky conceded to Steve’s question. “Because it means that the public is no longer interested in persecuting me for the crimes I committed as the Winter Soldier, but—” Bucky broke off, burying his face in his hands and groaning. “It’s complicated.”

Steve stoked Bucky’s side soothingly. “Yes, like this whole charade has been the definition of simple.”

Though Steve and Bucky were the ones actually together, Steve wasn’t jealous that Bucky had to pretend to be with Tony in public. He knew that Bucky loved him and if this fake relationship would protect him and prevent the Winter Soldier’s crimes from coming back to haunt them in the future, he was all for it. He would endure any discomfort if it meant protecting Bucky and whether he liked it or not, he knew that his actions of turning against the world to go chase after Bucky did leave a stain on his reputation. Fury had been frank with him on that fact. Tony, on the other hand, still had the political clout, financial means and media finesse to help Bucky out of this situation with the best possible outcome.

Especially because of his personal connection to the issue causing the uproar.

“Bucky,” Steve pulled the brunette back to him, holding onto his hands and squinting at him with concerned blue eyes. “What’s really wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

Bucky worried the flesh of his lip with his teeth, pulling away to clutch the pillow back against his stomach once again.

“Oh god, Steve,” he finally whispered, eyes wet and guilty. “I know that it was all pretend, that we actually weren’t dating and I know that I love you more than anything but…I think the illusion became the reality.”

“Hey, can we talk?”

#winterironshield #stuckony #stony #stucky #winteriron #fake dating #fake relationship #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #vengeanceworks #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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whats-the-story-tc · 5 years

Text

24th of January, 2020

"The One with the Uproar"

You guys are NOT ready for this.

On my way to school in the morning, I met Bandana Friend, as we live quite close to each other, and thus, we walked in together. On our way up the stairs, I looked at her and asked "Ya know who's supervising this morning?" Once she realised, she gave me this impressed look and said "V is so sweet." "I love her." I replied. And immediately, as we look up, guess who's standing at the top of the stairs. Poor thing looks like she hasn't slept in a week, so I promptly greet her with my biggest smile. Little did I fucking know.

Things with my foreign English teacher got intense. Our whole English group was very frustrated and ready to speak to the headmaster, all 15 of us there today. We spoke the whole lesson through. The moment the teacher said I'd put the new bloke who'd be coming in to shame with my English, I started crying, and she hugged me, telling me she refuses to say farewell to us just yet.

We stormed up from class when it ended, all of us as one. I'm still crying, and shaking from anger as I got myself quite riled up. Homeroom teacher enters stage left, sees me crying, I get what is probably my fifth hug in ten minutes. But when we try to speak to the headmaster, we get informed he's "off grounds", and nobody knows when he'll be back. We get out, down the first flight of stairs and find ourselves face-to-face with none other than V. About five or six of us are venting to her all at the same time, all the while she's trying to remain professional and calm not to rile us up even more.

About five minutes later, when the headmaster arrives, we still don't get in immediately, and I feel completely at my wits' end. Every teacher who knows me and saw me then got a little scared, as I'm not usually one to cry in public, only when absolutely necessary. And out comes V, right over to me when she sees me. She strokes my arm, and tells me to feel free to cry, but I didn't. Not completely. I really didn't want her to see me like that, to look at me with her concerned eyes. (Did I mention she was wearing golden eye makeup today? Gosh, what a stunner.) But here we were. Me staring at her little coffee mug necklace and trying not to break into even smaller pieces.

Didn't work much. After the meeting, I wept through the fifteen minutes-ish of Music class we were actually in for, and sat down in the corridor on a seat-thingie alone to clear my head a little. And I definitely did not deliberately chose to sit nearest to the classroom I knew V would be in. Who, me? Never.

Out she comes half a minute later, and bends down to me, to make sure I look at her, hands on both my arms. I don't actually remember what she said to me, even though I remember she spoke, as it's mostly a blur, but I do know I did look up at her, as she was smiling this tiny little comfort smile. Then, a couple seconds later, that felt like an eternity, I stood up from my seat to be at eye level with her— mostly. She's taller than me by a bit. And then. Oh, then.

I don't actually remember which one of us moved first, but, in the most Hollywood way possible, I hid my face into her shoulder and sobbed into her shoulder, my fingers actually curling into her back a little, holding her like my life depended on it. And you guys... she held me so tight. Her hands were around my waist first, just generally holding me as if to say 'It's gonna be okay soon', as she was silent the whole hug through. Then she started stroking my back slowly and all I could think was 'I have never got such a good hug in my whole damn life.'

She let me sob as long as I liked, with complete disregard to the fact that I was robbing her of her lunchtime. When I pulled back, she told me not to "fall on my sword" and that nothing was certain just yet. And, after I assured her that's just how it would be and she walked off, I spent the next five minutes telling all my friends what happened. Plus, when she walked past the room we were in on her way back to class just next door, she made sure to look inside as she passed.

Jesus Christ, you guys. I'm absolutely in awe of all the kindness in this woman's soul, I really am. I'm fortunate enough to say that I got a lot of affection and a lot of hugs in my life, but... never once have I needed one this much. I never imagined our first hug would happen like this. That it would happen so soon. But you know what? It was perfect. Absolutely, one hundred percent perfect, and just so fitting. All these times I've cried about her, more than anyone else I've ever loved and here is where it lead me. Right into her arms.

English class with V afterwards was quite the chaos. We vented all of our problems to her, and she listened, trying to be professional and diplomatic with all of her answers not to get us worked up, seeing we've mostly calmed down a little. The poor woman even tried to teach, but seeing she would get nowhere with it, she told us that we can spend the rest of class talking if we agreed to do Grammar in next week's double lesson. And we're smart kids, so naturally, we did. After that, most of class was chaos and lots, lots of laughter. V kept roasting my classmates, spoke about how messy her own class used to be and that she likes us. Aand, though she didn't say an exact date, we got it out of her which month her birthday is in and what her star sign is. I laughed so much in class that my cheeks hurt a lot, and I honestly don't remember the last time that happened. V was all smiles, too, and at one point, she asked me "Specs, doesn't this feel better than crying?" Her wording made the situation a bit awkward, especially considering everyone went quiet, but I refused to be thrown off by it, because now I actually did know how she meant it! It was supposed to be a 'see, you can still laugh, cheer up' kind of thing, and from what I saw on her face, that really is what was behind the words. At one point, a little later, I turned to her and said "You were right, definitely better than crying."

After class, I told her I hope I didn't scare her a lot earlier, and she just said no, although she didn't think this thing would cause such an uproar. She also told me that when she cries, she mostly does it out of frustration instead of sadness. (I kinda figured that out because of earlier.) Then I thanked her for listening to me, instead of saying sorry, and she just smiled and said "Oh, come on." When we later met in the corridor, we did our usual thing. Our eyes met, she raised an eyebrow with a smirk, I nodded. Back on track.

Bandana Friend and I had another meeting with the headmaster after V's class, and you know what? It worked! The crying and the anger and the frustration wasn't for nothing, and it was such a good feeling. As Bandana Friend and I hugged it out outside, V was already standing beside us the moment we parted, in her little yellow fox sweater she wasn't wearing until then. (And of course she was the first to come. Her chair faces the door. Gossip girl.) When we told her we did it, she reacted very professionally, as expected, but I saw the pride in that smile and those eyes. Plus, she clapped me on the shoulder. Bless.

Once we've told everyone in our class and the other class in our year what happened, and we were sitting and chatting outside the gym, Bandana Friend just told me "And V hugged you." I actually jumped to my feet and ran a little lap, because that's when it sunk in. V hugged me. Or I hugged her. I don't care! We hugged! I still can't believe it!!

It's midnight here. The hug was approximately 13-ish (but at least 12) hours ago. Half a day. Yet I still can't believe this actually happened. It doesn't feel real. While I was writing this, Bandana Friend even texted me that she was jealous. Good Lord... this is the best thing that has happened to me in a while.

I don't have school on Monday, as the teachers have a board meeting, so I don't know if I'll make a post. Maybe I'll write about an old story. Who knows. We'll see. Until then, take care! Love you guys lots!

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

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aurorasmitty · 4 years

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‘cause there’s a beauty in being broken, i’ve been seeing it || aurora & hook [closed] {part 4}

Fifty four years ago...

Pouted pink lips blew luck onto a mismatched pair of dice, before the blonde leaned back onto Blake’s lap, and held her breath as he tossed the dice. The group cheered and moaned depending on who they’d bet on.

“Aurora Smith, you never fail me,” Blake grinned, planting a kiss on her neck, before reaching for the dice once more.

Rory glanced up across the bar, and made eye contact with James. Everyone had turned up for the grand opening of Mulligan’s new bar, and while they all seemed, as a majority, happy, Hook looked less than thrilled. Aurora gave him a nod, before turning back to blow on the dice again.

The uproar that followed made Rory laugh, and Blake planted a kiss of gratitude on her lips. Knowing that James was watching, she put her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. There were whoops and jeers as Blake moved his hands round her waist, pulling her close.

“Good luck charm, you are,” he murmured into her ear. “Won me enough gold to drown everything out for a month,” he grinned, nipping gently at her ear.

Rory tilted her head back and giggled, stealing another quick glance at Hook, who was staring at her with an intense fire that both startled and excited her. Eyes on him, she leaned forward and whispered in Blake’s ear.

“Shall we christen one of the rooms upstairs to celebrate?” She asked, blowing a warm tunnel of breath into his lobe. Blake’s reaction was near automatic, as he gathered up his winnings into a small leather change purse.

The men begged him to let them try and win their money back, but the young Hook only laughed. He tossed a few coins to Mulligan behind the bar, grandly telling him to send a round of pints to the losers on him. Rory then took him by the hand, leading him to the stairs near where James was sat. She ignored the captain, though she could feel his gaze upon her, and took Blake upstairs.

Three a.m., the same night...

Rory rolled off of Blake and stood beside the bed, straightening her shift. She’d forgotten how younger men could just go back to back like this, and gave Blake a mischievous smirk.

“Blake Hook, I had no idea,” she grinned, backing away from the bed slowly towards the little round table that held a carafe of wine.

“What? That I’d be any good?” he chuckled, turning onto his side a moment.

“Oh no, I knew you’d be great. But five times--that’s a new record for me,” she laughed, turning to the drinks.

“Me too,” he joined her in a laugh, before leaning back, propping his arms behind his head. “I’d say we go for six, but I’d hate to injure you.”

Rory threw her head back with a laugh, pouring them each a glass. She padded softly over to the bed and held one of the long stemmed glasses to him. They each sipped the sweet, red wine, eyes on each other, as if daring the other to do something. Rory drained her drink, and looked down at him.

“I’d love you to injure me like that,” she shrugged, a minxy smile on her red stained lips.

Blake raised his eyebrows in surprise, before letting a single, disbelieving snicker out. When she quirked a brow at him, Blake set his glass down, and threw the blanket off his lap.

“Well get over here then.”

Four a.m., the same night...

Aurora pulled Blake’s jacket over her shoulders, and tiptoed out of the room. Downstairs, the bar was silent and bathed in darkness as the candles had long been doused. Rory was hoping to find some bread or something, as she was entirely famished. And while Blake hadn’t injured her, she moved gingerly down the steps, quite sore.

The blonde felt a little eerie to be in the dark in a strange place. Blake was fast asleep upstairs, and after all their activity, she doubted he would stir for anything any time soon. Rory fumbled for a candelabra and a box of matches, and lit two of the three candles before her ears perked up. She could hear someone breathing in the room with her.

Aurora spun around, dropping the box of matches, which scattered around the floor.

“James,” she breathed, hand flying to her chest. He was sat right where she’d last seen him earlier that night. “What the bloody hell are you doing there?” She asked in a rush, a scowl forming on her brow.

He rose from his seat, and crossed to her. This was something she’d never seen on him, or anyone else for that matter before. A silent, calm fury, that chilled her to her core.

“Now, is that any way to talk to your captain?” James asked, reaching up to her neck. His fingers traced along her collar bone, before clamping gently around her throat. It was not a hard or tight grip, but she dare not move.

“What do you w-want?” She asked breathily, swallowing against his palm. His thumb moved up and touched her lip, parting bottom from the top.

“I want you,” he said, pressing the curve of his hook against the middle of her slip, where her legs met her center. “Do you want me?” he asked, pressing her back against the bar. James moved his hook to the hem of her shift, the cold metal against Rory’s skin making her pulse jump.

It had been a year. A year since he’d touched her, a year since they’d been this close. A year of sins and strangers, of being catcalled and propositioned. Three hundred and five fucking days of being ignored by him. Enough time, at least, to teach her to unlove him.

“I don’t,” she said in a shuddered voice that even she didn’t believe.

“No?” James asked, hook paused at her thigh; he leaned forward, forehead nearly against hers, and ran his thumb along her bottom lip again.

“N-n-no?” she returned in question. At this, he let go, and pulled the hook away, now warm from the contact with her skin. He took a few steps back from her, and Rory was frozen against the bar. The candle flickered, surrounding them in a dim and broken light.

“Are you very sure?” He asked, pressing his thumb against the curve of his hook.

“No,” she breathed, hands moving to her thighs. “I am not sure of anything with you, James,” she added, heart pounding. The look he fixed on her held her in place, and she felt like she might melt through the floorboards.

“Do you want me?” Hook asked again, and Aurora gave him a pained and quizzical look. Did she want him? She wasn’t sure how to answer him. Was this all just a cruel trick? Did she even care? They stood there a moment, just staring at one another.

“Oh hell,” Rory breathed, and crossed to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “I fucking do,” she answered truthfully, before they both met each other in a passionate kiss.

James wrapped his arms around her, and stagger walked them to the corner booth. With his right arm, he relieved the table of it’s salt and pepper tins, as well as the paper with written specials. With his left, he lifted Aurora and set her atop the raised table. She began to fumble with his belt, but he halted that to slide Blake’s jacket off of her. As he tossed it to the floor behind them, Rory undid his trousers. James gently pushed her down flat on the table, and clamored atop her.

Smith sat up on the edge of the table, and Hook held his hand out to help her down. She gave a sheepish smirk, and looked up at him.

“I missed you,” she told him, placing a hand on either side of his waist. “I missed having you inside of me,” she added, looking up at him through heavy lids.

“I missed you too,” he said, but there was a hollowness to his tone. “You can come to me whenever you tire of the others,” James stated, words that loosened her grip on him like oil on rusted machinery. “And I will come to you.”

Rory looked up at him in question, swallowing the anger and sadness his words caused. The emotions soured on their way down, and made her stomach pang with sickness.

“Is that it, then? You want it to be this way?” She asked, melancholy filling her eyes. “You don’t...you don’t want me to be yours exclusively?”

“I’ve had that before. And I don’t want that again. To ask you to be faithful where I never could, would be unkind.” He explained, and all she could think to do was nod.

“Any rules?” She asked, raising her gaze to meet his again. “I mean, in a relationship there are dozens that go without saying. But this,” she said, motioning a half circle in front of her with both hands. “This is all new, Captain. So do you have any rules to set to this new arrangement?” She asked, biting back her bitterness.

James was shrugging on his jacket now, watching her as she spoke. He tucked his shirt into his trousers, and expertly fixed his belt.

“Yeah, actually. You can sleep with anyone in port. You can sleep your way through every shop, yard, and every bunk on the ship if you want,” James told her. “As long as you want to,” he said, buttoning his coat sleeves. “But there is one thing you must never do again,” he said, as the sound of a door opening upstairs broke the fantasy that they were alone.

“Name it,” she said, anxiously glancing to the top of the stairs. James moved to the door as Blake started down the stairs.

“You must never fuck him,” he said, pointing at the confused and bleary-eyed Blake. Hook then exited without another word.

The silence that filled the dim barroom was incredibly loud. Rory shifted on her feet, before retrieving his jacket from the floor. She walked cautiously to the stairwell, and held it out to him. Blake just stared at her, processing what had just happened.

“Well that sucks,” he finally broke the quiet, shrugged, and turned back upstairs.

Current time...

James sat in his booth at Mulligans, running his fingers along the bottom of the table. They brushed and then connected with a well worn notch where he had held onto for support one night with his hook, many years ago. He didn’t think of Rory on her back atop this table every time he came to the bar, but when his fingers hooked into that groove, the memory of it came flooding back.

She had asked him to meet her there, which was ominous in itself. He didn’t know what to expect, especially considering how they’d left things.

The pub was busy, as the day’s work had ended for most, and Hook hoped she would hurry up and get there so he could leave. He’d be sick if one more kiss ass brought him another pint. James thrummed his fingers on the top of the table, impatiently while he waited. Luckily, the next time the door opened, Rory was enveloped in, wearing a black dress that trailed by her ankles in the back, yet exposed her legs to just above her knees in the front. James decided to attempt to keep things light.

“Is that another new dress, Smith?” he tutted as she drew near.

“It is,” she replied with a smile. “Do you like it?” Rory asked.

“I don’t know, give us a turn,” he suggested, spinning his finger in the air.

Rory did so, and then kicked up one heel, giving a smirk of innocence as she looked up to the ceiling.

“It’s very pretty,” James admitted. “Although I don’t know where you’ll find the space in your cabin for it,” he added, tone bordering on chastising.

“That’s actually what I asked you here to talk about.”

“No, no, Rory, we’ve been over this. You can’t turn the broom cupboard into your second closet,” he told her, raising his his hand as she scooted into the booth across from him, laughing.

“I don’t need more space,” Rory told him, placing her palms on the table.

“Don’t tell me you’ve duped Cookson to let you use pantry space?” Hook teased, and Rory shook her head with a slight laugh for his benefit.

“No, nothing like that,” she said, picking up one of the three pints that sat in front of James. “I’ve moved into port,” she added quickly, bringing the beer to her lips, and immediately began drinking.

“You what?” James asked, aghast. “You can’t be serious, why on earth would you do that? What do you mean? What happened? For God’s sake, Rory, put that down before you give yourself hiccups!” Hook reached out, taking the three quarter drunk pint from her hand. “What is going on?”

Aurora sighed. She knew he couldn’t really have been expected to take the news calmly. She had hoped, but she should’ve learned by now that wishing was for children.

“I just can’t be on the ship anymore, James. It’s not working out anymore.”

“And why not?”

“You know why not. If we want to salvage any sort of friendship, I need to do this,” Rory told him softly. “I can’t be so close to you, available any time you’re hungry. And I’m sick to death of being around all of those pirates, all the time.” She said, leaning forward a bit. “I have to go.”

“What, now?” James asked, trying to wrap his head around this new concept.

“Yes. The last of my things are being delivered to Franny Taft’s place now,” Rory said, knowing she’d have to keep it brief if she was going to retain her nerve. Hook looked so taken aback, that part of her wanted to reassure him that nothing would change. But that would be a lie.

“But Aurora,” he said finally, as she slid out of the booth. “What have I done?”

Rory wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. A lie. She wanted to say it was just in her nature. A lie. She wanted to take the blame and not make him question his actions. An injustice.

She cupped his face with one hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. Her thumb caressed the stubble on his face, and she gave a sad smile.

“You never apologized,” she sighed, and turned to go.

“For what?”

Rory glanced back, lips pressed together in a sad line. For making me what I am now. For yanking me around all these years. For underestimating me. For making me feel so small and that my only worth is what’s between my legs. For using me.

“For what you said to Starkey. I’ll see you around, Cap.”

#this is long #and also the end of this miniseries paha #beauty in being broken #closed #also considered calling this installment 'a family affair' but nah #about #part four of four #part four #fin

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