#STARES AT WALL. TEN THOUSAND YEARS. TEN MILLION YEARS.
Text
NORMAL.
#STARES AT WALL. TEN THOUSAND YEARS. TEN MILLION YEARS.#franziskas relationship to manfred FASCINATES me. like so much.#because like. shes clearly not ashamed to call herself a von karma#and when the forgery came up like 5 minutes ago her knee jerk reaction was to get upset about it#but in aa2 when phoenix is under the (very wrong) impression that she hates him because he put manfred in jail#she doesnt really seem all that upset about it when it gets brought up#but in that same game she very much emulates his style of prosecution and his attitude#and its just. SO INTERESTINGGGGGGG . AUGH.#like. this line. like the implication that she still kind of looks up to him#even though she knows he was a terrible person and somebody who purposely used forged evidence to get innocent people convicted#and she clearly has very complicated feelings about this. that shes 1) not going to acknowledge and 2) definitely not going to disclose#but its there. and it fascinates me. this entire family is so . you have problems.#lorillee liveblogs aa investigations 2: electric boogaloo#the von karma-edgeworth family soap opera
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
More Than Meets the Eye #51 — Ten Has Done So Much for All of You, and for What? You Don't Deserve Him.
So, obviously, last issue ended rather poorly for Team Rodimus and Pals. It doesn’t look like the start of this one going much better, as a mass of baddies bombard the late Necrobot’s “Fortress”. Whirl, being Whirl, wants to go out and face his certain death head-on. Everyone else is more than fine to wait for death to come to them.
Rewind, showing off the skills he’s picked up as a videographer over the last several thousand years, gets the security cameras up. I’m assuming that Censere had these installed to keep an eye out for bored space teens who might have wanted to graffiti his millions of plinths. Too bad it didn’t save him, or his property, as outside, Tarn is shooting the ground with his twin fusion cannons. He’s having to hold his arm in place with his other hand, as I’m sure the kickback of firing two lasers at once must be something fierce. He finishes and commands his troops to cease firing, everyone withdrawing.
The Lost Lost Lighters are super jazzed about this, Brainstorm stating that they must have heard about Tailgate’s Power Punch, an attack with a name so banal, it surely must kill anyone who faces it, if only so they don’t talk shit about it after the fact.
Megatron, however, knows what Tarn’s pulling, as he’s a theatre kid, and everyone knows that the really intense theatre kids follow their scripts to a T, and will murder you for trying to ad lib like some filthy fucking improv performer.
By doing this, he’s honoring Shakespeare.
Swerve has begun to bawl like a baby over how bad the situation has gotten, likely recalling all the awful shit he witnessed the last time he crossed paths with the DJD. Magnus, who still has his arm off, because Velocity is all about uplifting her fellow women, demands that they try to call for assistance, then apologizes for swearing, even though he’s absolutely at the very least said “damn” in the past. Maybe he’s confusing the total inability to curse with the IDW publication law that you’re not allowed to say “bitch” until your series has been truncated by 50%. Or maybe he only allows himself to swear in the presence of poor snack management. Anyway, it’s not like it matters— Megatron’s just informed everyone that Tarn also likes to cut the phone lines in situations like this.
All of this, because you wanted middle management for your faction.
Because Megatron never baked any sort of loophole into the DJD’s way of handling shit, because how the fuck could he have possibly known he’d one day have to denounce his entire reason for existing to satisfy the commercial whims of Hasbro, the gang is going to have to figure out some way to defend themselves or escape in the next eight hours. Rodimus orders everyone to split up and look for clues, blowing off Ten in the process.
Velocity calls Swerve, the closest thing to a doctor besides her, to come look at the Necrobot’s corpse, which appears to have turned into a pile of ash. Swerve informs her that this is what happens when someone who’s old as balls kicks it. Now, it may concern you that Velocity, who was the only doctor for a ship of over 200 until this morning, doesn’t know what a dead old man looks like. However, we must recall that age-related spark burnout hasn’t been a thing until very recently for Cybertronians, and Caminus, the colony Velocity is from, is marginally younger as a society. It probably just hasn’t happened in her circles yet.
Velocity and Swerve play around in the pile of old man dust, until she pulls a key out, with “1/001” written on it. Her search party will be focusing on finding what this key goes to, as it was surely important, given that it was on Censere’s person at the time of his death.
Over on the DJD’s ship, The Peaceful Tyranny, Deathsaurus stares at the corpses Tarn’s nailed to the wall of his room. The nails have Decepticon insignias on the heads, because of course they do. These are the same corpses Tarn had on the wall of his office in Grindcore. Tarn asks if Deathsaurus is impressed with his first editions, and when Deathsaurus is understandably bewildered by this question, Tarn explains that these are corpses that were sent home after dying in the mines of Messatine, who had Megatron’s writing etched into their organs by Terminus, so that said writing would reach the outside world. Tarn thinks it’s pretty fucking cool, but Deathsaurus is, again, bewildered by this interior design choice. In general, Deathsaurus is bewildered by a vast majority of the ways Tarn chooses to live his life.
Tarn, opening the mouth section of his mask to drink a shot’s worth of energon, likely totally unable to see as he does so, since the eye holes don’t line up anymore, says that if Deathsaurus was a true intellectual like Tarn was, he’d understand that trying to chase down a ship with quantum jump capabilities is really difficult when you no longer have a sneaky little double agent to give you exact coordinates, so grounding their targets was the best option. No word on how Tarn feels about the ship he super-nightmare-death-murdered being perfectly fine now.
Deathsaurus really just wants to know why they backed off after having their targets cornered, because he hates Tarn and his stupid little games, having been working with him for at least a couple months by this point. Tarn, however, has the audacity to be smug about how all the Autobots are probably tearing each other apart out of fear, as the sun makes its way across the sky.
Back with Velocity’s search party, Nautica’s joined the one-and-a-half doctors in the Key Quest. Velocity asks Swerve about why Ten came down with the rest of the group, and in Swerve’s defense, it’s not like anyone knew this was a murder trip until after they’d arrived. When the brain attack happened last issue, Swerve hadn’t disclosed what exactly he’d heard— now, however, he admits that he’d gotten an earful from Ten about the Ambus Test, and how just because he’s made up of the corpses of multiple religious hermits doesn’t mean he isn’t a person too, and also once that union gets going, he’s gonna sic lawyer-mode Magnus on him.
Anyway, they found the door that key went to.
Back with Rodimus in the main room, he’s collecting the notes of all the other search teams. Rung’s face has been shaded to look like he got lip fillers. Rodimus isn’t pleased, but it isn’t because of Rung’s gotten work done.
Nightbeat, however, DOES have good news to pair off with the bad. News so good he starts using metaphors, which confuses and frightens Magnus. Nightbeat has found the quantum travel device the Necrobot used to travel to the deaths he recorded, and what do you know? It’s got just enough juice to get everyone out of dodge and into the loving embrace of safety. Hooray! Time to form an orderly queue, going from most to least obnoxious paint job.
Then Team Killjoy shows up, Velocity and Nautica letting everyone know what’s behind door #1: it’s a bunch of organics in stasis.
I will say, the inverse of Transformers fans collecting robot toys mint in package is decidedly more disturbing.
Whirl isn’t horribly keen to die over a bunch of squishy nobodies. Nautica states that the organics are vulnerable and need protection. Skids, really wanting to be in that straight-passing relationship, agrees that the DJD will totally kill these guys, because they learned their technoism from SOMEONE MEGATRON. Chromedome, who has had his husband back for maybe six months at this point, really doesn’t want to stick around for the sun to set. Cyclonus asks just why the fuck there’s a bunch of dudes in the basement. Tailgate wonders if it really matters, considering the situation at hand. Magnus, needing direction in his life, makes sure that Rodimus hasn’t decided to take a nap standing up like a horse. Brainstorm, who has been oh-so-subtly trying to edge the door to the quantum tube shut, makes the point that they could do a lot of good after the fact, if they left now and then vowed to protect a slew of organics afterwards, which would eventually even out their sins, probably.
Rodimus feels pretty good about this proposal, but he loves looking like the most appealing, middle-of-the-road choice, and says that they have some time to talk this out. However, we’ve forgotten that we’re riding with Mr. Ex-Peace Through Tyranny, who does nothing in half-measures and loves to be contrarian to Rodimus at every given opportunity.
This turn of events is such a shock to Rodimus, he shouts at Ten for trying to show him something. Poor Ten.
Rodimus reminds Megatron just what exactly they’re up against and what he’s signing himself up for and for what variety of living creature, but Megatron is aware of all of these things. Looks like the talking to Skids gave him on the duplicate Lost Light finally sank through his thick skull, and he’s ready to be a big boy about this whole Autobot thing. He then informs everyone that he’s not doing this to make a point, and that anyone who wants to dip is welcome to do so, as long as they’re doing it for themselves.
Of course, it’ll be a cold day in hell before any Autobot lets Megatron out-Autobot them, and it’ll be an even colder day before Cyclonus leaves his not-boyfriend alone on Murder Planet. Oh, and the fact that organic life is just as valuable as mechanical. Totally. Everyone defaults to stay, Rodimus closing the door to the quantum tube.
Swerve then offers a real heel-clicker of an alternate escape plan: what if… we just stole the DJD’s ship, stuffed it full of the organics, and flew away before anyone noticed? Now, this is, of course, an immaculate plan, which no man could ever find fault in, but Whirl is not a man, but rather a machine, and does question where exactly they’d be getting the keys to such a ship. Cyclonus is trying to be a bit more of a supportive friend to Swerve, since the last time the guy felt left out, they all had to project their consciousnesses 400 miles out and pay NYC rent, asks if there is more to this perfect, perfect plan, crafted in one of the finest minds of any generation.
There is not.
So, we’re gonna steal a ship.
Ravage offers to track the smell of unwashed bachelors and Megatron body pillows to see where the DJD parked. Rodimus gives him his blessing, marveling at the skillset at his disposal, as Magnus makes a fucking wild face of incredulousness and Ten sulks in the corner.
Before he runs off, Ravage brings Megatron a phone and asks that he talk to Tarn, because surely if anyone can get him off the warpath, it would be his old boss.
Back at the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn, Deathsaurus, Nickel, Tesarus, and Vos are going over the plan for the day. Sure hope Deathsaurus can parse Primal Vernacular. Tesarus reminds Tarn of the time they went after Heretech and he turned a storm shield into a forcefield that held them off for days, but this band of Autobot nerds aren’t Heretech, now are they? Even if they do have an ex-Wrecker, a Skids, and the power of love on their side.
Then Tarn tells everyone to shut the fuck up, because he’s getting a call on his electric razor.
Back at the “Fortress”, Megatron stands astride the space scooter, looking horribly depressed, as he prepares to have a little chat with his most murderous fanboy. Rodimus questions this decision, having clocked that even on his best day, Megatron wouldn’t just whole-heartedly decide to effectively kill himself for the sake of 50-60 organics he doesn’t even know.
Of course, we’ve seen that at least one planet in the Magisterian system still has life, as the Scavengers had to use holomatter avatars at some point, as seen in issue #45. Perhaps if Megatron knew about this, he wouldn’t be so keen to go on a suicide mission.
Over with Ravage, he passes by Skids’s plinth, which I’m sure isn’t an omen of any kind, and discovers that the smell of B.O. and hot pockets he was following wasn’t attached to the Peaceful Tyranny, but rather a base the DJD and Deathsaurus’s boys threw together. Also, Ten’s been crawling after him in an attempt to keep hidden this whole time, over what was likely multiple miles. He didn’t do a good job in the slightest, but points for tenacity, buddy. Ravage understands that Ten’s just trying to help in some form or fashion, so Ravage gives him a special job: bullet sponge.
Deathsaurus’s men, Helex, Kaon, and the Pet all see Ten up on the hill. Kaon in particular looks very excited at the promise of a plaything, so much so that he lets his rabid little chihuahua off-leash.
Meanwhile, Megatron races across his personal field of spark flowers, on his way to rendezvous at his plinth with Tarn. I wonder who suggested this meeting spot? When Megatron arrives, he demands that Tarn at least face him with his, well, face, but Tarn says that his mask IS his face, even though we know it isn’t, because Tarn couldn’t commit to the bit hard enough on this particular front for some reason.
Megatron offers himself up for surrender. But enough about his crisis of morality, let’s get back to Ten.
Ten, former Legislator that he is, fights valiantly, throwing four guys in the air at once, even as the Pet scratches his collar bone and Helex punches him in the head, his face telling me that he’s gonna do horny mouth shit with Ten’s brain if he manages to get ahold of it. Kaon’s in the background, shooting electricity into the sky. I think he’s just happy to be here. This nonsense up on the hill allows Ravage to sneak over to the base to check for a ship that DOESN’T smell like wine, jockstraps, and viscera.
Back with the Autobots, someone finally remembers that Ten’s a person, and asks where the hell he’s gotten to. Magnus isn’t sure, though he knows where he HAD been. I expect better from you, Magnus. Ten is your little buddy! Your brother in artistic arms! He even left something for your enjoyment, while he went out to help Ravage!
After having solved the issue of their defense system, Ten went out and got his ass shredded for multiple pages, where he was repeatedly shot and set on fire and torn limb from limb and electrocuted (I guess someone finally pointed Kaon in the right direction). It seems like the end for Ten, but his assailants are suddenly shot and dealt with, blanketing the hill in silence.
Silent enough to hear the equivalent of twenty USD in Australian dollaridoos, having been converted into English pounds, rustling around in a British guy’s wallet.
#transformers#jro#mtmte#the dying of the light#issue 51#maccadam#hannzreads#text post#long post#comic script writing
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
looking for some light
masterlist | ao3
summary: he tells raleigh, “i want to come back from this mission, ‘cause i quite like my life.” he means, there’s still so much i want to do, so much i have to do. (aka chuck wants to make it through this goddamn war so he can finally live a normal life, even if he doesn’t really know what that means.)
pairing: chuck hansen x reader
warning(s): character death (sorry), swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence.
word count: 3.86k
a/n: i meant to have this finished by the ten year anniversary of the movie but uh… anyways, here it is now! this is my love letter to chuck hansen and also a projection of my want for a beach house.
The universe gifts Chuck an unwanted Christmas present in the form of a memorandum. He swears under his breath when you trudge into the Mission Control Center that morning with a dejected frown on your face and shove the crisp paper into his hands. His eyes fall on the letterhead, embossed with the familiar spread-winged eagle, and he already knows what it contains. He’d been expecting it for months. He resists the urge to scream, to crumple the paper into a ball and hurl it at the trash bin with every ounce of remaining strength in his body. He doesn’t envy you when you announce the bad news to everyone else, fulfilling your final duty as Sydney’s Chief LOCCENT Officer.
Days later, not even twenty-four hours after the Shatterdome decommissioning and right at the beginning of the new year, the universe offers him—and the rest of Sydney—another unwanted gift.
Mutavore is an ugly thing. Nearly ninety meters tall and weighing over two thousand tons, it’s hunched over as if struggling to support its own weight, blade-like plates protruding from its head and back.
“I don’t care how many eyes it has,” he says after you read out its classification and measurements, “I’m gonna kick its ass.”
(Six. It has six eyes. Just because he doesn’t care doesn’t mean he won’t pay attention.)
The category four Kaiju plows through the coastal wall like a knife cutting through warm butter and tramps into Sydney Harbour, stopping only to raise its head and let out a guttural screech, as if barging through a metal barrier hadn't been enough to announce its presence. He wonders how many millions of dollars have now been reduced to rubble at the bottom of the bay and how many weeks were spent welding together beams that took only a few seconds to destroy.
Then, its beady eyes—all six of them—focus on Striker Eureka and her brass knuckles glinting in the sun. It screeches again before charging headfirst into Striker’s swinging fist.
Mutavore dies as quickly as it breached the wall, lying motionless in the bay, blood-soaked missiles lodged in its chest and Kaiju blue staining the water.
“That’s Striker Eureka’s tenth kill to date. It’s a new record,” he boasts to the reporter in the aftermath. He ignores the questions about the decommissioning and brushes off the look his father gives him. Don’t get too cocky, he looks like he wants to say.
When they return to the Shatterdome, the J-Tech crew cleans Striker, polishing her knuckles and wiping Kaiju remains from the Conn-Pod. Chuck takes a long hot shower. Then, the move to Hong Kong begins.
The Anchorage Shatterdome—the cold and stalwart Icebox—had been the first to close. He remembers how you had stared blankly at the official PPDC statement for hours while he watched the newscaster on the television read it out loud. The Marshal had been on the broadcast, too, brought on for further questioning. When the anchor asked about the future of the Jaeger Program, he had assured her that, as long as the Kaiju kept coming, the Jaegers would keep fighting. Chuck had laughed dryly at that. The dwindling funding from the U.N. would say otherwise and whispers of better opportunities at the wall hung in the air, getting louder with every passing day.
The closure of the Icebox set off a string of shutdowns: Lima and Tokyo later that month, Panama City in November, Vladivostok and Los Angeles a few weeks after. The clock was ticking and it was only a matter of time before that damned memorandum arrived in Sydney, his fate dictated by its contents.
His beloved Sydney Shatterdome closes at the turn of the year, leaving behind its only remaining sibling in Hong Kong. What had once been a robust network of PPDC hubs was now reduced to one.
And the clock continues to tick.
“We don’t need a stupid wall,” Chuck declares on the flight to Hong Kong, glaring at the news broadcast replaying footage of the Sydney attack. “We need better pilots.”
He’d expressed the same sentiment to the reporter who interviewed him after Mutavore’s attack, too, blaming the fall of the Jaeger program on the mediocrity of those involved. He isn’t sure if it’s that simple—you had explained something to him about politics and funding and morale, government nonsense he didn’t understand—but he sure as hell knows that the Jaegers would be winning if pilots stopped letting the Kaiju kick their asses.
“Have some respect,” his father chides. “Every pilot has fought tooth and nail to protect the people they love.”
And perhaps that’s the truth—it sure is for him. His days consist of sore muscles from training, never getting enough sleep, and always anticipating another fight. He does it for his father, who has been a soldier for as long as he can remember. For his mother, whose untimely death lingers in the back of his mind every time he sets his eyes on a Kaiju. For you, who frequently pulls all-nighters and agonizes over details to make sure the Shatterdome stays running. And for Max, of course. (Silly little dog probably has no idea what a Kaiju is.)
So, yeah, perhaps it is the truth. But it doesn’t change the fact that they only have eight months left of funding, or that the U.N. thinks a wall will fare better than a Jaeger.
“We won’t be getting more pilots. All we can do is work with what we still have,” you chime in, pulling Chuck out of his thoughts. “But, on the bright side, our remaining pilots are some of the best in program history.”
“Including me?” he smirks. You laugh, cheerful and bright, punching his arm lightly. Max shifts in his sleep at the sudden noise. His father gives him that look again. Don’t get too cocky.
He spends the rest of the flight listening to you read briefing notes on “Operation Pitfall,” the Marshal’s shiny new plan to end the war by detonating a bomb at the throat of the Breach. Somehow, the PPDC had procured a thermonuclear warhead from the Russians, entrusting Striker Eureka to carry it while the remaining Jaegers played defense.
Chuck is cynical about this plan. They had already tried (and failed) to drop things into the Breach. A bomb would only bounce back at them and kill anything in range.
He quips sarcastically if the Marshal had thought of that. You respond only by flipping through the file again for an explanation. He knows you won’t find one.
As he steps off the plane and onto the landing pad, he’s met with a grinning Tendo Choi shouting over the patter of heavy rain, “Welcome to Hong Kong!”
The man, wearing a grey suit jacket too wide around the shoulders shakes their hands in greeting before ushering them out of the rain and into the Shatterdome. Chuck sidesteps some J-Techs as he enters, surveying his surroundings.
He had been much younger the last time he visited Hong Kong and much less invested in all the inner workings of the PPDC. He remembers mechanics and pilots shouting and running about, dirt and scuff marks on the floor, and his father reminding him to keep a tight grip on Max’s leash. It had felt unfamiliar then, but he realizes now that it isn’t too different from Sydney. Same high ceiling, same metal catwalks, and almost the same arsenal of Jaegers towering over him. It’s a little older, a little grittier, and a little more worn down, but no longer foreign.
He spots Cherno Alpha in one of the bays, its stalwart form hunkering and heavy. The Kaidanovskys stand at its feet, engaged in conversation. Crimson Typhoon stands opposite it, brilliant red and regal. J-Techs gather around her three arms, inspecting and cleaning the rotating saw blades.
“Striker arrived a few minutes before you did,” Tendo gestures to the shiny silver Jaeger standing in the far bay, metal glinting under the bright lights of the hangar. “The crew is getting her settled in.”
Then, Chuck’s eyes fall on the fourth and final Jaeger. That last he had heard of Gipsy Danger was that she had been decommissioned, damaged beyond repair from a mission gone wrong. But here she stands—untarnished metallic blue, left arm intact, and definitely not lying forgotten in Oblivion Bay.
“What’s that old rustbucket doing here?” he leers, very aware that there isn’t a single speck of rust on her.
“She looks brand new,” you remark.
“She is, sorta,” Tendo replies, “We’ve been fixing her up: a new fluid synapse system, new engine blocks, and a new hull. She’ll be holding the defensive perimeter for you in Operation Pitfall, along with Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon.”
“Does she have pilots?” you inquire.
“Not yet,” Tendo grins. “But she will.”
Chuck hopes that these pilots won’t be incompetent idiots, whoever they might be.
The peaceful moments are rare, but cherished and so welcomed. In these instances, he lets his guard down, breathes deeply, and allows himself to think of anything other than training or fighting.
One of his favorites is somewhere in between Striker’s fourth and fifth kills: a lazy afternoon in bed with your back against the headboard and his head in your lap, sunlight streaming in through the windows with your fingers carding lightly through his hair.
“After this war is over,” he declares, imagining a life without the chaos and destruction that comes with being a Jaeger pilot, “we’ll buy a nice house in the suburbs where we’ll live blissfully for the rest of our lives.”
“The suburbs are nice,” you contend, “but how about a beach house on the Gold Coast? Or Port Douglas?”
He chuckles at that, picturing what living by the ocean without the fear of a Kaiju attack would be like. He would spend his mornings engulfed in the soothing murmur of the sea, gazing out at the unbroken horizon. His afternoons basking in the warmth of the sun, feet buried in the soft sand. His evenings surrounded by music and your melodious laughter, trying not to step on your toes while you lead him through a dance in your living room.
Quiet, he thinks. Serene. The only unrest would be the waves at high tide or the gulls swooping down to steal his food.
“Wherever you want, as long as it’s you and me. And Max. Right, bud?” he grins at the bulldog lying at the foot of the bed. Max lets out a little grunt. Chuck takes that as a sign of agreement.
“Sounds lovely,” you reply, your hand moving to rest against his cheek. He turns his head to kiss your palm, heart soaring at the way you smile softly down at him.
All Chuck knows about Raleigh Becket is that he quit the Jaeger Program. That information alone is enough for him to dislike the guy. He doesn’t trust some washed-up pilot to run defense for him while he carries a 2400-pound bomb on the back of his Jaeger. Doesn’t care that his father fought alongside the guy in Manila or that he single-handedly piloted his Jaeger back to shore. Doesn’t bother to hold back a grimace when Raleigh tells him that he’d been working on the wall for the past five years.
“If you slow me down, I'm gonna drop you like a sack of Kaiju shit,” he hisses at him in the mess hall. He ignores the way his father watches him with disapproval as he stalks away.
His bad mood turns worse when Mako Mori is named Raleigh’s copilot.
He has known Mako for years. They had grown up in Shatterdomes together, met a few times when the Marshal had brought her to Sydney, and briefly bonded over their love of dogs. He’s close enough to her to know that she can fight well and that she has one of the best simulator scores he’s ever seen. (Better than his, although he’d never admit that.) But, she has no experience in a Jaeger and no understanding of what a drift is actually like, which, in his eyes, makes her no better than Raleigh. He isn’t surprised when they’re both out of alignment during their test run, your concerned tone alerting the rest of LOCCENT of the deviation, or when Mako begins chasing the RABIT, raising apprehensive murmurs from the crowd of onlookers. Or when it ends in Tendo pulling the plug on Gipsy’s power.
“Worse mistakes have happened,” Tendo sighs as Gipsy’s plasma cannon goes offline. Chuck scowls. There is no space for even a single mistake in the plan to attack the Breach, especially amateur ones like chasing RABITs. He knows that the Marshal understands this, too.
Later, as he paces in the Marshal’s office, still brimming with anger from Raleigh and Mako’s failure of a test run, he snaps, “He's a has-been. She’s a rookie. I don’t want them protecting my bomb run. sir.”
His father stands across the room, arms crossed and mouth set tightly in a frown. In the corner, you and Tendo are huddled over a tablet, discussing the drift results in hushed voices. The Marshal warns him to watch his tone. Chuck rolls his eyes in response and thinks to himself, He knows I’m right.
He finds Raleigh and Mako standing silently in the hall outside after his father kicks him out of the room. He rounds on the former, seething and jabbing an accusatory finger into his chest, “I want to come back from this mission, ‘cause I quite like my life.”
He turns to Mako, sneering and spitting out some distasteful things, ignoring the feeling that he’ll regret it later.
When Raleigh’s fist makes contact with his jaw, Chuck sees red.
On bad nights, he wakes up in a cold sweat, plagued by nightmares of being painfully ripped to shreds by sharp claws and teeth. Some nights he wakes up angry, frustrated with himself after overanalyzing his fights. Other nights, he relives the moment when he found out about his mother’s death, shaking with body-wracking sobs and shuddering with each intake of breath. But you hold him through it, your soothing hands on his back and comforting words in his ear. He focuses on your voice, steady and calm, and syncs his breathing with yours.
“You’re okay,” you murmur. “They’re just nightmares. You’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” he repeats.
On bad nights, you confess your fear that the war will never end, or that you’ll burn out before it does. Some nights, you feel that you’re not doing enough, that you need to get back to work even though it’s past midnight. Other nights, you worry that you’ll spend your entire life fighting, that you’ll never be able to rest. But he holds you through it, his calloused fingers on your cheeks wiping away your tears. You focus on his touch, firm and resolute, and rest your hands on top of his.
“It’s okay,” you contend, voice shaky but certain. “I have you. This is enough.”
“This is enough,” he repeats.
Yet, he can’t help but want more. He wants the beach house instead of the cold metal walls of the Shatterdome. Wants to wake up to the sun, your smile, and Max’s whining for food instead of doomsday alarms and Kaiju attacks. Wants you to be able to sleep in for once. Wants to spend his days sunbathing and learning to surf instead of training in combat drills and preparing for another attack. Wants to give you some peace, and to find some of his own.
He tells Raleigh, “I want to come back from this mission, ‘cause I quite like my life.”
He means, There’s still so much I want to do, so much I have to do.
Chuck has only felt true fear a few times in his life. Standing on top of his disabled Jaeger with only a flare gun in his hands is one of them. In the moment, he tells himself that he isn’t afraid, that a double event isn’t any different from any other Kaiju attack, and that Striker will come back online in just a second. The adrenaline coursing through his veins overpowers the feeling of impending doom anyway. But, later, as he reflects on the feeling of relief that had washed over when Gipsy’s fog lights enveloped him, he admits that he had been scared shitless. And, he admits (only to himself) that he’s thankful for Raleigh and Mako, even if they’re has-beens or rookies.
He holds you closer that night and knows that you’ve already picked up on all the details of his uneasy expression. Still, he musters up the strength to confess aloud, “I thought we were gonna die.”
You’re silent, responding only by rubbing your hand across his back and hugging him a little tighter. The heavy weight of his lingering fear sits in his chest as he continues, “Dad had injured his arm, our comms were out, Cherno and Crimson were gone, and there was a fucking Kaiju ready to swallow us whole. Shooting that flare at it made it even more pissed off.”
“Not your best idea,” you remark playfully. “You’d think all that training to prepare you for situations like this would help you keep calm and think of something rational to do.”
“It was Dad’s idea, not mine,” he shrugs.
“Well, I’m glad the flare managed to keep it occupied long enough for Gipsy to get there,” you reply, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “And I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“Me, too,” he sighs, the weight in his chest lightening slightly.
When he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of the war ending and a house overlooking the shore.
If, a year ago, you had told Chuck that he would be piloting a Jaeger with the Marshal Stacker Pentecost, he would have laughed in your face and asked why the Marshal wasn’t off doing better things (like convincing world leaders to keep funding the Jaeger Program or figuring out ways to increase pilot recruitment). And, if you had told him that he would hear the phrase “there’s a third signature emerging from the Breach,” he would have rolled his eyes and declared the situation impossible. (“I’d still kick its ass, though,” he would have probably said.)
Yet, here he is, strapped into Striker with the Marshal as his copilot, only three hundred meters from the Breach, watching a category five Kaiju materialize in front of him. He feels his stomach drop as he lays eyes on Slattern’s angular head and the sharp spike protruding from its chest. When it roars, the water around them ripples, and the ground beneath shakes. He barely has any time to think before the massive beast rears its head and charges, swinging its heavy leathery tail directly at them.
The hit knocks Striker off her feet and sends her crashing into a nearby hydrothermal vent. He winces and swears, body aching and head beginning to throb as streams of water push and jostle the Jaeger. Slattern prepares to charge again just as Striker regains her footing and he easily falls into a fighting stance along with the Marshal, fists clenched and ready to strike. This time, when it attacks, they’re ready—dealing out swift punches that send the Kaiju reeling.
He isn’t sure how much of it is the Marshal and how much of it is himself, but the exhilaration that rushes through him as one of Striker’s sting blades slices across Slattern’s throat reinvigorates him. The other blade cuts into its arms, blue blood spilling from deep gashes. It screeches, and he expects it to rush at them again, but it swims away, blood trailing eerily in the water.
He takes the moment of respite to breathe, and to survey the damage. The harsh red light of the many, many warning messages flashes across his vision. He fiddles with some controls, watches as the Marshal does the same, and sighs heavily when neither of their attempts fixes anything. He resigns himself to hoping that Striker can hold on a little longer. She had gotten him this far, surely she could see him through to the end of this war—and to the beginning of his life at peace.
But–
“The attack jammed the bomb release,” he notices. “We’ll have to manually override–”
A yell from LOCCENT cuts him off. Chuck’s stomach drops even further when he hears someone say, “Striker, you have two Kaiju converging on you fast!”
He curses loudly and immediately knows, There’s no time for a manual override.
The Marshal is on the intercom before Chuck can even begin to formulate a plan, shouting to Raleigh and Mako.
“You know exactly what you have to do,” he declares. “Gipsy is nuclear, take her to the Breach.”
“What can we do, sir?” Chuck asks, bracing for the hit.
“We can clear a path,” the Marshal answers firmly, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, “for the lady.”
Even without the drift connecting their thoughts, Chuck understands.
“Well, my father always said, ‘If you have a shot, you take it,’” he remarks, knowing that, on the other end, his father is listening with pride. Chuck can admit that he was an arrogant dickhead with no respect for any of the pilots around him and that he never bothered to hide his resentment for his old man, never gave him a reason to like the man his son had become. Yet, he knows—and has always known—that his father is proud of him. (He is proud of his father, too, for what it’s worth.)
In the final moments, his thoughts drift to you: swathed in blankets and gathered in his arms on cold winter nights, perched on the seat of a stationary bike and reading reports while keeping him company in the gym, wrapped in his brown leather jacket with Max’s leash in your hand while accompanying him for walks around the Shatterdome. He recalls your bright laughter when he’d crack stupid jokes, your serious voice you’d use only over the intercom, and the mischievous glint in your eyes when you’d pretend you hadn’t given Max extra treats.
“I love you,” he had said before entering the Conn-Pod, so quietly that only you could hear him, holding you tightly and kissing away your concerned frown. The warmth of your hands against his cheeks had lingered as he had stepped away.
“I love you,” he says now, loud enough for you to hear him over all the noise, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking away the tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry we’ll never get that beach house.”
“But, I had you,” he says. “It was enough.”
When the bomb detonates, he’s surrounded by blinding light and a deafening boom. And, finally, peace.
In his dreams, he can’t tell where he is, only that Max is sitting at his feet, his father is somewhere in the distance, and you’re next to him with your hand in his, fingers intertwined.
#pacrim#pacific rim#chuck hansen#chuck hansen x reader#chuck hansen x you#chuck hansen imagine#my writing
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
find the word
tagged by @tabswrites, thank you! my words are eyes, finger, teeth and mouth
with words like that, i simply have to go back into the claws draft. warnings for obliquely referenced self harm, and mild gore/implied vivisection.
…claws is a fun book:)
no-pressure tagging @hagscribes @dyrewrites and @andromedaexists with the words beneath, descend, imply and exit
[ID - a red decorative divider]
eyes
In Rainier’s pitch-black eyes, he’s a silhouette. Trapped in the oil-slick sheen, captive just as Rainier’s captive in his. The scalpel presses down. Pressure, then release. A breaking, a severing; Vivien sighs. It feels like taking off a binder after a long day. Finally the freedom to breathe.
fingers
A hand over Vivien’s mouth to stifle his screams. Ichor into him, can after can into his stomach—black everywhere, writhing and squirming, a living nightmare that’s still not fucking working.
“Make it stop, make it stop, please, make it stop!”
“Ssh, baby, you’re okay.” Rainier’s voice shakes. He’s pressing Vivien’s skin together, fingers sliding over skin slick with blood and ichor. Webs writhe beneath the surface, flickering red and black. Webs and flesh, muscle and living darkness; he had his hand inside that.
teeth
Every inch of his flesh is alive, so hideously alive. He can feel it, pulsing and churning, organs gurgling in their red cavities, teeth rotting in his skull, all the invisible animals crawling on his skin. If they were spiders it wouldn’t be so bad.
Ten thousand spiders in a skirt. Ten thousand spiders in a thin layer of skin, walls so fragile all it takes is the tiny razor in his hand to cut through them.
mouth
In terms of parts per million, the amount of ichor in his blood is almost invisible. The amount of corruption in him is much less so. But that’s why people trade organs, so no-one else will ever know what they did.
Vivien stares at the cracks on the ceiling. In two weeks time it’ll be five years. How many parts per million of grief do his veins hold? How much more can they handle? If each particle of it were a spider, they would fill his body entirely, pour from his mouth to fill this room.
He gave up so much. It’s not fair that he still has to feel like this.
[ID - a red decorative divider]
claws taglist: @belovedviolence @foxboyclit @coven-archives @noblebs @mjjune
@revenantlore @sarandipitywrites @k--havok @asterhaze @verba-writing
@indecentpause @bootstrapparadoxed (ask to be +/-)
#writeblr#tag games#find the word#find the word tag#original fiction#snippets#wip#wip: claws#c: vivien webb#c: rainier mortem#don’t get high on demon juice and do sexy vivisection kids#this book is about love and grief and most importantly: fucking extremely nasty transgender style
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
22 - Christmas Special (ft. the Grinch) // Forever Winter Series
pairing: austin butler x fem!oc
warnings: sad fluff, angst, SAD SAD, drugs (pills), physical agression, paranoia, memory loss?, cursing, annoying male territorial shit, teeth rotting christmas presents, 18+ minors mdni
22/?: Austin struggles to wrap gifts alone on christmas eve before spending the next day with Elsie & her suspiciously nice boyfriend. Elsie finds herself atop Austin after opening his gift. Austin is cornered with an unexpected proposition.
prev chapter -> 21 - Blue M&M's
see masterlist/summary for background info + chapter log
gif cred: @carnevol ♡
(SORRY YES I NEEDED MULTIPLE GIFS SH)
I hope you get your ballroom floor
Your perfect house with rose red doors
I wish I'd known that less is more
But I was passed out on the floor
That's the last thing I remember
It's been a long lonely December
-AUSTIN-
A mountain of failed gift-wrapping attempts sat next to me as I started what I hoped would be my last one. Smoothing out the foiled paper flush against mahogany slats and carefully placing one of the two vinyl records I’d gotten for Elsie strategically in the middle. A scissor still dangled from my pinky while my palm attempted ease the frustration built up behind my eyeball.
“Okay, it’s fine. I can do this. It’s just wrapping a fucking gift.” I muttered to myself, something I did quite often. When you have to reassure yourself as much as I did, saying the words just in your head got to be inadequate.
Taking a deep breath, I repeated the process I had already done what seemed like a million times – fold (poorly), tape, fold, tape, add a cute ‘to/from’ sticker tag, a bow, then holding it out to admire my handiwork.
Then, paranoia all over again.
My stupid fucking brain.
I tried my best to delicately tear a small corner from the taped gift in order to double check that it was the right record. And obviously, it was the same fucking one as the last ten, but of course it destroyed the wrap job completely.
“Fuck!” I swore, letting out a charged, frustrated groan before chucking the kitchen scissors across the living room floor. Then, ripping the gift wrap off, crumping it into a ball and repeated the action, landing opposite the scissors.
My foolish coping trick was the first line of defense when I attempted to focus on one of the thousand skyscrapers that scattered outside my floor-to-ceiling windows. City glows and holiday twinkles littered the midnight skyline, then a wall of snow flurries poured over the scene. There wasn’t a damn thing out there that interested me enough to stare at to distract me. If anything, the arrogant bustling city only added to my heightened state. My eyes then scanned across the room – the wall, no – the couch, no – the coffee table –
The mug on the coffee table. Elsie’s mug.
Reminding me of how we had spent almost every Christmas Eve together for the past 6 years. Well, we met on Christmas eve and sat in a breakfast diner until about 2 am Christmas morning. But the traditions really began when we moved into our apartment the year after that, sophomore year. We’d find the most pathetic looking evergreen at the closest tree farm and brought it home.
We were both so broke we couldn’t afford real decorations, so we’d buy plastic dollar store ornaments and even made some out of paper. Like kindergarteners we’d get a thick stack of construction paper and create those chain garlands, draping them all over the house. Then on Christmas eve we’d wear tacky matching PJs, make the sweetest hot chocolate with the biggest marshmallows and watch cheesy Christmas movies.
Christmas celebrations with my family were always so chaotic and stressful, full of arguments and tears. But the ones with Elsie were so easy, so fun. I hated Christmas until I met her.
When we finally decided to not renew our lease last year and she moved in with Nox, I packed our decorations away into storage totes, keeping all of them, even the paper ones. I intended to surprise her with them and have her help me decorate this holiday, but then all this shit happened.
And so, here I was staring at her favorite mug that was filled with my futile effort at the hot cocoa tradition, by myself. I out did her in almost every concoction that required a kitchen, but her hot chocolate was one I could never quite replicate. But maybe if I added enough sugar, enough syrup, enough marshmallows, it just might have some aftertaste of hers. I thought it might bring some sort of comfort and festivity to this lonely Christmas eve.
My heart was still thumping and my hands already trembling from the inability to wrap a fucking gift, but I kept staring at that stupid, condescending cup. I lifted it off the table, leaving behind a brown ring on the glass and brought it to my lips. Tipping the entirely full and now cold beverage to my lips, letting the liquid seep past the layer of melted marshmallow. Immediately repulsed at the taste, spitting it out. It was bitter.
“Augh-“ Wiping the liquid off my chin and furrowed my brows at the cup, “What the fuck?”
How the fuck could I have made hot chocolate bitter?
Using my index, I gently pushed the mountain of marshmallow to inspect the drink. It was watery, pitch black and had floating specks. Specks.
Grounds.
The cup was full of coffee. Black fucking coffee.
Right now, that mug was a familiar pest, but I had to weigh out how dangerous it really was. Racing through the steps I took earlier to make this cup, but all I could see was me ripping open an instant hot chocolate pouch, pouring it into the warm milk and mixing it. I thought I could remember even taste testing it to check the sweetness. It was all so real, vivid, tangible.
Right now, that mug was a familiar pest, but I had to weigh out how dangerous it really was. Racing through the steps I took earlier to make this cup, but all I could see was me ripping open an instant hot chocolate pouch, pouring it into the warm milk and mixing it. I thought I could remember even taste testing it to check the sweetness. It was all so real, vivid, tangible.
I had been taking my meds – or at least trying to.
It took a moment before complete and utter descent kicked in.
My chest felt tight, constraining, like an anaconda wrapped around my ribs, and just about every negative emotion a human could feel hit me like a train. Anger, heartache, loathing, sadness, jealousy, frustration, everything. Before I could even process the rumble surging through me, the full cup soared through the air clashing into my white wall. Ceramic shards flying and coffee painting the wall brown.
The sight of it encapsulated everything I was experiencing, the shattered cup a perfect analogy for me and Elsie. Her favorite mug in pieces. Something that was once full of beauty and meaning, now shattered on the ground. The scene reflected my mind as well - broken, fragmented, incapable of being used anymore.
I folded my extended legs into myself when tears began to well in my eyes, pressing my face against my knees and wrapped arms around them. My sobs shaking my entire body and soaked my stupid Christmas pajama pants.
I didn’t know what I was crying about – the frustration of not being able to trust my brain? The inability to wrap a fucking gift because of said brain? The lack of my best friend? or the sheer loneliness of this eve?
The harder I cried the tighter my grip was around myself. It was the hardest I’d cried in a while, maybe even since my dad. But at least I had Elsie then. Now I had to play some fucked up game of chess just to see her on Christmas.
“Okay,” Wiping the tears aggressively with the palms of my hands, “I can do this.” My breaths still rapid and staggered.
The words of my father rang in my ears –
Shut the fuck up, men don’t fucking cry
Only little girls sob like that
Be a fucking man and cut it out
You’re an embarrassment
Why was I relying on a woman to come save me? A woman that wasn’t mine? A woman that didn’t even want me?
Once my cries slowed enough to pull myself up, I went to what I really relied on - arguably worse than any girl. Going straight to the cluster of orange prescription bottles scattered all over the apartment, finding the one I wanted on the granite kitchen counter. I plucked an entire bar and knocked it back with ease.
If I wanted to get those fucking presents wrapped, I needed to do it before the pill entered my system fully.
Unrolling the wrapping paper tube reaching the end, leaving me with just enough to finish. I laid out the metallic paper, placed the records on their respective squares and employed my last resort when I really couldn’t trust my mind. I used my phone to snap several – several pictures of the records, front and back, from all angles. Now, I had concrete proof for myself that they were correct ones. Even with the evidence, I figured out a way to leave a small discrete opening in the back so I would have an extra layer of verification.
As the Xanax began to filter into my mind, I decided it would be a great idea to write a letter to Elsie, basically emotionally dumping whatever I felt in that moment.
Though I hadn’t decided when or if I’d ever let her read it.
I slipped on a pair of dark jeans, getting ready for this stupid fucking group Christmas Elsie had arranged. I didn’t understand why she would even set this up, why she pushed us to get along - but whatever it was important to her.
What I couldn’t wrap my head around was why Nox allegedly wanted to apologize, I knew he wasn’t sorry. I hypothesized that it was all Elsie’s puppeteering, and we were just her dolls on dangling strings.
Regardless, it felt a lot like a minefield. I wasn’t much of a people person, I avoided them as much as humanly possible. Though, that was difficult being in the industry I was in. But people like Nox always kept me on my toes, they reminded me so much of my dad. I loathed the juvenile mind games and territorial rivalry.
Nox was convinced I wanted something that wasn’t mine. It was as simple as that. I suppose this fence mending dinner was the perfect time to prove him wrong. I could wave a white flag and call for a ceasefire. I shouldn’t have to fucking tip toe around my best friend of six years just because of some fucking asshole. As much of a shitty thought it was, I knew they wouldn’t last.
He was temporary, I wasn’t.
I piled gifts in my arms. The gift wrap crinkling around the two flat presents reminded me of my last-minute verification method. I lifted the tiny hidden opening at the back to check the record, then pulling out my phone to match them to what was in my hands. This process delayed me quite a bit – about 20 minutes late as I kept going back between the two pieces of reassuring evidence. Before I left, I poured some white tablets into my palm, deciding to snap one in half and swallowing it dry. I couldn’t be too out of it in front of her, especially not on Christmas.
-
After a knock, I anxiously waited for Elsie to open the door. The most enthusiastic smile plastered on her face when it finally cracked. “Yay you’re finally here!” She exclaimed before even fully opening the door. Joyful arms squeezed around me, filling my nose with a strong peppermint scent, “Merry Christmas Austin!”
Hm, Austin. Not Aus or Aust or Austie. I wonder fuckin why.
Even though ‘Austie’ was the lamest fucking one, it was my favorite. I’d do whatever she wanted when she used it. She could ask me to bring her lava and I’d figure out how some way to gather some for her, even it singed me, even if I came back to her looking like Deadpool.
She wore a short, strapless red dress with scrunched sleeves just off her shoulders, a black corset tied around her waist. It almost resembled a pirate’s dress. Her hair curled and topped with reindeer antlers. A sudden flash of her on my couch in my oversized shirt using my lap as her own personal toy-
Thank god for Nox appearing because my eyes and thoughts would’ve lingered much longer. He crossed from the kitchen. His outfit much like mine, black jeans, black shirt. Except Elsie had just plopped a Santa hat on my head. “Nox won’t wear one.” She glared over at him with a pout.
And of course, I would, right? Because I do all the things he doesn’t, right? Including making her fucking come. Must be nice to have your cake and eat it too. I’d like to have just one fucking decent slice of cake. The abrupt rumble of resentment told me maybe this Christmas special was a mistake.
“Hey man, I just wanted to say sorry about… well everything.” He gave me the stereotypical ‘bro’ handshake. I didn’t believe a word that man said, but this time it did seem genuine. Perhaps he did have some sense knocked into him from having the best thing that could ever happen to him ripped away, even temporarily.
“It’s alright, I’m sorry too.” My best attempt at a cordial apology.
“Okay okay! Presents!” Elsie broke the tense air, clapping excitedly.
My brain already began to slow down thanks to the meds and suddenly, the idea of this didn’t seem so bad, maybe even fun. That sense was fleeting though when she went to grasp my hand but promptly drew away, probably remembering her boyfriend was right fucking there.
Funny how this worked - her instinctively reaching for my hand and the word ‘baby’ swirling at the tip of my tongue. The memories from a couple weeks ago looping in my brain – the dressing room, truth or dare, dancing, couch, eating, cuddling.
They seemingly just no longer existed. They didn’t mean anything, they never happened.
The fucking close call clause.
Did they mean anything? Did they mean anything to her? Did they mean anything to me?
A jarring twist in my chest suggested that they might mean something - or it might be because she was completely unaffected.
But it was wrong, the twist wasn’t any of those things, I was just fucking angry.
The close call clause was in place for a reason, for this exact reason. And normally it would be relieving, but for some reason it no longer felt like a safety net. As if what we did had burned a hole straight through the web, and I was falling through it.
Falling into what exactly?
She led us to the sloppily decorated tree, surely because she wasn’t home for so long or because she didn’t have me to help her. And I knew Nox wasn’t one to assist in any sort of festivities. “C’mon,” She tapped the ground next to her looking at me, “Sit.” But naturally, Nox stole the seat. So, I chose to sit to the other side of her, further away.
Nox and I exchanged gifts first. It’s always awkward when you’re required to get gifts for people you don’t really know.
Shocker, we got each other the same things – Amazon gift cards.
She excitedly handed over a small container to Nox. He opened the box revealing a luxury designer watch, silver with a navy face. “Oh, thank you baby.”
‘Baby’
A sharp jab pierced through me as the memory of calling her that rolled across my brain. It didn’t sound right when he said it, it sounded like a lie. But I guess I was lying too, since I only ever managed to call her that when I wanted to be inside her.
“Do you like it?” She chirped, straightening up like a little kid giving their parents a finger painting.
“Yeah of course.” Wrapping his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple.
I studied him, this was a reconciliation dinner after all. I wanted to know if it was genuine, picking apart every word, tone and gesture. It appeared authentic – so fucking bland, but authentic. Perhaps that’s why she’d get so wrapped up in him, he could just act this way and she was pliable in his hands again.
“Your turn Austin!” She shot up from the floor, “Wait here! Close your eyes!”
My eyebrows scrunched watching her scurry away across the grey carpet. What could she possibly have gotten me to require this song and dance? I glanced over at Nox, sensing his anger but keeping a pokerface. A stupid, happy, festive pokerface. Any other time, her cheerful excitement would wrap me in a fluffy warm cloud but even with the Xan beginning to kick in, I was still just unnecessarily fuming. Nonetheless, I closed my eyes as instructed and waited for her.
Some fumbling came from the other side of the apartment before I sensed her next to me. “Okay! Open!” I was almost afraid to look, any tiny misstep threatened to set Nox off.
Cracking my left eye before opening both wide. She stood there with a vintage guitar, one I had been searching for - for years. I think I had only ever mentioned this guitar to her once. During one of our first trips to our college diner, before I even learned how to play.
“I- Oh my god Elsie.” In complete awe of the wooden instrument.
“I know your new role has some music parts, I thought this might help.” She beamed at me, wider than with Nox’s gift. Her green eyes brighter than they were with him.
“Wow- um you really didn’t have to do this.” Leaning forward my fingers tracing the smooth, worn curves. “How did you even know?”
“I pay attention.” Shrugging and giving me the soft kind smile that always seemed to melt me.
That was my Elsie. Not whatever artificial shell of a human Nox turns her into. How can you see her, who she is, her heart and treat her the way he does? Why would you want to change her?
“I’m, just wow. It’s beautiful Elsie, thank you so much.”
She didn’t need to ask me if I liked it. She knew.
She rested the guitar across the couch before coming back to sit down. Nox handed his present to her, a generic teardrop diamond necklace. But she acted like it was the best thing on the planet. Probably because it was the nicest gift he’d ever given her.
Her arms wrapped around his waist nuzzling into him, “Thanks babe.” She shined, “It’s so pretty!” The way her eyes flickered up at him broke completely through the calm lull of my high, for some reason making me more furious, livid even. The sort of fierce anger that I’d only ever felt when disgusting men would hit on my girlfriends at bars and clubs.
But as her delicate fingers unraveled the thin chain from the box handing it to him to place around her neck, it brought another sensation. His tattooed hands gently laid the silver necklace on her accentuated collarbones and clasped it at the back. The same ferocious feeling came but beneath a different filter. It was like someone took the arteries in my beating heart, wrapped them around the thumping muscle, then tied them in strangling knots.
Why?
Wanting to fuck her was one thing but wanting to put some cliché necklace around her neck? That was different. I didn’t fucking like that feeling. That was the worst one yet.
“Are ya gonna keep me waiting or what?” She joked, leaning out of Nox’s arm to lightly smack my own. It was only then that I realized my stare had stayed on them when my thoughts ran rampant. I glanced over at Nox, finding an expected displeased look.
“Oh, Oh yeah sorry.” I twisted behind myself and picked up the poorly wrapped slender boxes, stealthily peeling the paper back to ease my doubt one last time before handing them over to her. Coincidentally I had also gotten her something had long been on her ‘in search of’ list. “Alright well, I’m not sure I’ll be able to top that, but I hope this comes close.”
Her dainty fingers followed the edges of the wrapped presents then tucking a soft chocolate curl behind her ear. From the gift’s shape it was pretty obvious that they were vinyls, but she was probably assuming they were some new albums, thinking something like Taylor Swift or Halsey. She gently tore the wrapping paper seeing only the corner and letting out a gasp already able to tell what it was, “Austin!”
Elsie loved old music (hence the Cher guilty pleasure) but an even bigger love than Cher was-
“Oh my god it’s Elvis!” Then followed what could only be described as an ear-piercing screech. “Aaahhh!” Almost as if she flew off the ground and pummeled me to the floor (still screaming) knocking all the wind out from my lungs. The spirit of the king must’ve certainly been in her at that moment because my god, I’d never seen anyone move that fast. It was what I imagine parents experience when they give their kids Harry Styles tickets, just ear drum shattering screaming and ‘thank you’s.
The records I got her were antique Elvis vinyls, originals from his very first albums. They cost me an arm and a leg, literally, an absurd amount of money I didn’t even want to say outloud - but this reaction was worth it.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” She hugged me tight, her body on top of me and then, at just at the right angle away from Nox, she smushed my face in her hands and planted an aggressive smooch on my cheek. Yep, those expensive little plastic discs were worth this. And if her looming boyfriend wasn’t just feet away, I don’t think I could’ve restrained from pulling her on top of me in that skimpy dress.
Once her spirit returned to her body she promptly recoiled, regaining composure in front of a visibly irritated Nox. “Oh- I’m so sorry everyone.” She chuckled, nervously playing with her fingers, “I just got really excited.”
My slowed body struggled to pull myself upright again. I didn’t need to look up to know what Nox’s reaction was like this time. Fucking Elsie, with an antic like that I could very well get my ass kicked, for real this time.
“Well.” He cleared his throat sending a rumble through the apartment, “That was eventful.”
“I- Yeah, sorry, I know you don’t like when I get loud like that.” Her voice now shy, hidden and her attention on her hands as they smoothed out the plastic that covered the vintage record.
My jaw clenched and fists tightened hearing her shrink herself down for him. That’s when I turned my now fuming eyes at him, his nearly black ones already on me. No surprise that they matched my energy, his girlfriend just tackled me to the ground, screaming. I knew that was something she wasn’t doing with him, in any context. She certainly didn’t restrain from being loud with me when my head was between her thighs, and I definitely didn’t mind.
Then in the most terrifying switch, one I visibly saw in his eyes, he shifted. He confirmed it when he flashed a pleasant grin. “I just didn’t know you liked Elvis so much babe.” Was this man not dating her? Did he even know the color of her eyes?
The buzzing of her explaining to him how much she loved the king of rock and roll faded to the background as the full weight of the drug kicked in. I brought my hand up to touch the searing remnants on my cheek from where she placed her lips. It only made me realize that through all of the shit we did at my house – the dancing, the touching, the couch – we never kissed. Not once. She never even kissed my neck. I didn’t kiss hers either. My mouth did touch her, but never a kiss.
So maybe she was right, it never happened. Nothing happened. We never even kissed.
It’s not like we were having some illicit affair, but I still felt like a secret.
She wasn’t mine to kiss. She wasn’t mine to fuck. She wasn’t mine to want. She wasn’t mine to have. She wasn’t mine at all. She was his. And as much as the thought of it nauseated me, it was the harsh reality.
-
They ordered take out Chinese. Although Elsie and I protested since people shouldn’t be working on Christmas, but Nox insisted. Elsie passed a white and red carton to me.
“So, Elsie tells me that you landed that one role?” Nox asked, proving that he didn’t listen to a word she said since she just gave me an entire guitar for it. I believed his apology earlier but after the gift exchange I became hyperaware of any word he said.
My decelerated mind took a moment to process. “Yeah, yeah.” Scooping out some lo mein onto my plate. “It’s not that big really, but definitely bigger than any other role I’ve had.” He just nodded and I passed the carton to him. “She told me that you just got a promotion too?” Nox worked in some business office, typical former fratboy pipeline.
“Yeah, it’s been great. More money but of course more responsibility.”
I glanced over to Elsie, who looked like a parent who was monitoring siblings getting along. A part of me wanted to play nice and keep a smile on her face, the other part wanted to end the dinner there, tell Nox off and leave.
The sinking paranoia from earlier took a front seat as my gaze stayed on her as if some subtle gesture would confirm or deny the authenticity of our transgressions. If it had all been imaginary then any stirred feelings were just that, delusions. It would make all of this so much easier. It was then that felt a pair of eyes boring into me, realizing that lost in my own thoughts my stare never left Elsie.
Excruciatingly uncomfortable small talk swirled back and forth between us the entire dinner.
-
In a bustle while cleaning up Nox bumped into Elsie spilling red wine all over her dress. She immediately left to get the stain out, he didn’t offer to help, and I certainly wasn’t going to, seeing as I didn’t have a death wish. I made my way to the kitchen to help clean up, wanting to keep busy in an effort to avoid any awkward small talk with Nox.
Almost in the instant she left the room, the brooding raven-haired male was in my face, grasping my shirt with a fist and shoving me back, this time against the counter. Fucking Elsie, I knew her little show with the gifts would land me here. “Listen here fucker, I’m sick of you filling her head up with bullshit.” His voice dark, only slightly different from his normal voice. The angular edges of his face seemed even sharper.
“Bullshit?” I questioned, “What the fuck are you talking about?” God this was so ridiculous. We’re grown adults, why was I being thrown around like a rag doll over some stolen glances. But with the high that weighed down my limbs, I had nothing in my arsenal to fight back.
“You with your fake mental shit, your ‘hallucinations’. Telling her you saw me fucking cheating?” Ramming his boney fist into my sternum. “I know you’re just doing it so she’ll come to your rescue, so she’ll leave me for you.” His eyebrows furrowed with intimidation, creating deep wrinkles between them.
“They’re not fucking fake, I’m fucked up in the head, obviously.” Regarding him with a sneer. “I don’t need rescuing for her to come to me.”
“I see the way you look at her.” Thankfully not catching onto my sly jab.
“I don’t know what y—" Going to protest.
He shoved me back again, his fist tightening around my shirt, and each knuckle making itself known. “She told me about your little game of truth or dare.”
Truth or dare – she only told him about truth or dare. And thank god because I’d probably be dead in a dumpster by now if he knew the rest.
I blinked up at him, “She told you?”
“Oh, you bet she did. I knew her touch was different, now I know why.”
She touched him differently? After us?
“What the fuck do you mean different? Nothing even happened.” Practically spitting his face.
“She hasn’t wanted put out since she came home from you.” Causing a vein to pop out of his forehead.
Who the fuck says ‘put out’?
“Well, that’s not my fucking fault, maybe you’re just shitty in bed.” His thick bushy brows lowered and forced me back into the cold, sharp granite edge.
Maybe my mouth had fucked some sense into her.
I beat him to it before he had a chance to explode, “I don’t fucking want her Nox.” A guilt pulsed like a lie. “She’s yours.”
He ignored me, “Now here’s what going to happen.” growling just inches from my face, his expression twisted into a threat, “I’m gonna introduce you to my friend, and you’re going to like her, and you’re going to leave my fucking girlfriend alone.”
“And why the hell would I do whatever fucked up scheme that is?” Countering his insane demands. What normal person creates such a calculated plan. And what the fuck did that mean, his ‘friend’ and ‘you’re going to like her’. What, was he pimping me out to some random bitch?
The grip on my shirt only constricted, tightening the cotton around my chest, “Because I know your little secret.”
“And what would that be?” I scoffed.
“Your bloodshot eyes and giant pupils. Your heavy, slow movements. Your slurred words.” Tone pitched with prideful blackmail. He was right, the only reason I wasn’t trying to escape was because moving was too much effort. “It’s honestly shocking that your so called ‘best friend’ can’t tell that you’re fucking strung out.”
I hadn’t thought about it that way. Even though I was hiding it from her, and I didn’t want her to know – actually hearing it caused me to view it in a different light. If I was obvious enough for Nox to notice, how didn’t she? How could I notice her every tiny gesture, but she couldn’t even tell I was high?
“You follow the plan, and you’ll have an endless supply of whatever fix you want.” He cushioned the appeal of this ridiculous plot.
Endless supply – now that was a thought. I could tell that my doctor was starting to get suspicious, I was only a couple more requested early refills before she’d cut me off.
Eyebrows furling up at him with curiosity, “And how exactly would you do that?”
“Ah, so I got your attention,” His lips curving into an arrogant smirk, “The how is none of your concern.”
I analyzed him, searching for any explanation of how exactly he’d have unlimited access to supposedly whatever I wanted. My silence must’ve answered some silent trick question since he followed with,
“I knew you’d sell out your little crush for some pills.” Heaving me once more into the counter coaxing an audible wince when the edge dug into my hipbones, “You see, me and you are more alike than you think. We both rely on things we shouldn’t. We both love the same thing – except that thing only loves one of us back.”
Love?
Heavy eyes rounded at his words, more surprised at the visceral sting through my gut. I knew if I took any more time to unpack it, he’d suspect it meant something else.
“For the last fucking time, we are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. There is nothing is fucking going on, you’re just fucking delusional.”
“No, you’re the one who’s delusional to think she’d ever chose you over me, that she’d ever love you.”
The sting returned, this time followed by rage. Though I was unsure what I was angry at, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the sender, just the messenger. My nails dug into my curled fists, “It’s going to hurt her, being away from me. You know that.”
“Yeah, and I’ll be there to take care of her. I’ll be the one to save her.” That was it, wasn’t it. He didn’t like how it made him jealous, that she came to me more than him.
“I’m not doing it.” I stated simply, taking any ounce of composure to mask the brewing fury.
“Well, if you don’t go along with it, I’ll tell her you relapsed.”
And there it was. I hadn’t wanted to say it. And he said it with such ease, when I couldn’t even admit it to myself. If I said it out loud it’d make it real. But it was already fucking real.
But it was my secret and Elsie couldn’t know. I didn’t need her to know. There was still a part of me that believed I had it under control, that I could stop if I wanted. As long as I could get myself clean without her ever finding out, it would never hurt her. And I wouldn’t have to burden her again.
Aside from the relapse, it was probably a good idea to stay away from her. Ever since Thanksgiving week, things hadn’t been the same. At least not for me. I couldn’t get her out of my head - her in my clothes, in my bed, in my arms. In my fucking lap.
It was eating away at me, even more than the drugs. The only thing harder than accepting my relapse was the realization that I had to push her away. I thought I could just stifle, push, stomp, burn it out - but today showed me that was impossible. It was too confusing, it hurt too much to be around her.
I had to do this stupid fucking scheme.
Next Chapter -> 23 - Comeback Special (Christmas Pt. 2)*
A/N: Thank you for every like, reblog or comment, it means the world to me truly. I love hearing your thoughts and I'm glad you're liking my little story 💗
P.S. Fun fact - This chapter is followed by four back to back smut chapters 👀
#austin butler#austin butler x fem!oc#austin butler fanfic#austin butler fanfiction#austin butler x oc#austin butler x afab!oc#austin butler series#austin butler imagine#elvis#elvis movie#elvis 2022#forever winter#forever winter series#forever winter fic#Spotify
75 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Summary: It wasn’t that she forgot about her first love, her high school sweetheart, how could she ever? But seeing him again so many years later - and he’s just as charming, just as handsome, just as kind as the day she left him behind.
Chapter 1 - Settling Back In
It took her a long time to accept the truth.
And even though she knew better, Nancy still had to remind herself over and over again that it wasn’t a failure on her part, it wasn’t her own weakness that caused her to become a recluse from the spotlight after so long being stuck in it.
It took time. But a lot of important things take time.
It took speaking to her therapist two, sometimes three times, a week to finally decide to take the plunge and go back home to Hawkins, Indiana.
But she does it.
She drives the entire way, too. She never even liked driving when she first started, and had avoided it at all cost while living in New York, but just the thought of going on another plane, even for half an hour or two, sent her into panic attack after panic attack.
Before she left New York, Nancy had her assistant purchase a house just on the outskirts of her hometown, but she still goes to visit her parents first.
They invite her to stay even longer, for dinner, so she doesn’t get to her new home until nearly ten at night, Mike coming along with her in his own car to help bring her bags in.
It’s been a while since someone else did the heavy lifting instead of her, so she lets him do it, waving him off shortly after and watching him drive away before going back inside, alone at last. And it’s both a gift and a curse in its own right.
The house is clean and empty, so she spends the next hour or so unpacking a few of her essentials and adding some small touches of her personality here and there. She didn’t bring a lot because she didn’t have a lot, but the art pieces she has collected over the years help give the place a little color.
Nancy stops at the last one she hangs up and stares at it, remembering the look on the old woman’s face as she handed it to her, as she thanked her.
She remembers waking the next morning to hear about the bombing of that village, leaving in her jeep with the group to confirm it and trying to help with the few spare people they had - to try and find all of the bodies.
Finding her.
Burying her.
One person by hundreds (thousands, maybe millions) of others that still haunt her nightmares.
Nancy brushes her thumb gently along the corner of the frame, smiling sadly at it before standing back to take a good look at the kitchen area. Her assistant had covered some appliances and a few useful things - a strainer, some plates and bowls, some silverware, a grate, some cooking utensils, but there’s nothing to actually cook.
She’ll have to put together a grocery list and go shopping in the morning, but that’s something to worry about tomorrow.
For now, she climbs into bed for the night and tries to get some sleep.
The nightmares come in quickly, waking her screaming and kicking over and over through the fitful hours, up until light starts to pour in from the open window curtains on the far wall.
Nancy’s woken four or five times now, so she doesn’t bother going back to bed again.
She spends that first day settling back down in Hawkins - grocery shopping, visiting her parents again to give them her new landline number so that they can reach her if they need to, and then heading back home to get an early start on dinner. She’s not the best at cooking, but she can scratch up some hamburger helper just fine.
And that’s how it is for a while. Alone, sequestered away. That’s how it is.
Days start to pass, but not quick enough.
Night is filled with nightmares and screaming and jolting awake, daytime is spent huddled at her desk with her knees against her chest, reading articles and updating her blog with any news she can find from other reliable sources and fellow reporters she trusts.
Nancy may not be knee-deep in it herself anymore, but a lot of her friends and acquaintances still are. The least she can do is spread their hard work around and share it when she can.
She plans to go shopping once every other week to keep the shelves stocked and eventually she falls into a pattern just like she had back in New York. Unfortunately, though, iIt gets old fast. And eventually she convinces herself to try and get back out, to see her family, her old friends.
She didn’t come all this way to hide from the world, she came here for a fresh start, to remind her of her roots, to try and bring back a little bit of that brightness.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take much convincing in the first place.
Nancy’s at her parent’s for dinner one night while Mike and El are visiting them again and they mention that they’re having a weekend meet up with ‘The Party’. Of course, Nancy jumps the moment Eleven invites her, eager to see the rest of their little group, see how they’ve all grown and changed in the last few years she’s been away.
It’s been so long since she’s seen any of them, she could do with some fresh air, some nostalgia and familiarity to help her reset.
So she arrives early that Saturday with a few sodas and some plates and cups, helping them set up the tables in the backyard and trying her best to learn everyone’s names while doing it.
She has two amazing nieces that are 4 and 6 years old, they barely know of her and this is their first real time meeting her properly, but they’re both already so smart and so sarcastic - something they definitely get from their father. And god, is it weird to think of Mike as a father?
Nancy starts to slowly realize that Mike and El aren’t the only ones bringing kids to this backyard barbecue.
Dustin and Suzie bring their three kids (three kids? Dear God, how?), twin girls who are 7 and a 2 year old little boy; Lucas and Max bring one of their own as well, she’s adorable and she’s 8 years old; and Jonathan and Robin (Nancy was pretty sure she was a lesbian, but she doesn’t ask or pry) bring their two kids, both boys, 5 and 6.
She feels a little overwhelmed trying to remember names, but is thankful when she realizes Will comes bearing exactly zero kids, the same as Erica, and Hopper and Joyce eventually join them as well.
So the name-learning stops there, and just in time, because she’s starting to mix up the twins, and both of Jonathan’s boys as well. They look just like him, too.
And then Steve shows up.
And it’s like everything around her fades out, and all she can hear is her own heartbeats skyrocketing, her own breathing - too loud to be how she really sounds, she hopes - and she can see him, only him.
And that smile, god, that smile.
The warm cadence to his voice and what it does to her. Still does to her, even now, after all of these years away.
Nancy blinks slowly at him, trying to pull herself back down from the clouds, feeling the sweat building in her hands, the clench of her thighs, the set of her jaw, the curl of her toes.
Oh hell.
It isn’t that she forgot about her first love, her high school sweetheart, how could she ever?
She knew he was still living here in town, even though she didn’t seek him out to check in on him and see how he was doing in life, but god does seeing him bring back all of those old feelings she’d long put up on the shelf, expecting to never touch them again.
But the moment she catches those eyes, it’s like a wind comes in and dusts her off.
He brings a kid too, a little two or three year old (she can’t be sure), but Nancy doesn’t see a wife in sight, no ring on his finger - and she feels a little guilty that she looks. She actively looks.
Steve looks single, he appears to be single, other than the fact that the kid is very much a product of his own. No one else has hair like that, eyes like those, and already the making of the patented Harrington Jawline. She even has Steve’s ears.
They come in with matching fingernails and Steve sets the little girl down to go off and play with the other kids as he talks to Dustin and Suzie.
Nancy watches them from her seat, trying not to be so obvious, but then she sees Dustin motion her way and she sees Steve’s eyes widen barely a half a second before his head snaps to look over to her.
“Nancy Wheeler!” he shouts in surprise, smiling wide and laughing in disbelief as he claps his hands to his mouth and drags his hands down.
She can’t even respond, can’t even move her lips, visibly shaking when he runs over to her. Oh, god, why does he have to look so happy to see her? Like she didn’t walk out of his life when she did and leave it all behind?
Nancy’s barely on her feet when he takes her up in his arms and swings her around.
He’s warm and soft and he finally sets her back down to get a good look at her, his big brown eyes filled with so much joy that it nearly breaks her heart all over again.
“Look at you,” he says like he can’t believe it himself, cupping her face and then moving his hands to her shoulders and looking her over, “Wow, look at you, you look amazing.”
Nancy can’t help but smile back even as she feels the burning along the bridge of her nose, the prickling at her eyes, nervous and a little self-conscious - she hadn’t been expecting him, of all people, to be here (though, admittedly, she probably should’ve).
Gosh, was he always this handsome? Why is he affecting her the way he is? He’s definitely more handsome now than ever before. Which… is certainly saying something.
“And… and you,” she says, almost speechless, “You’re a dad, huh? You have a little girl.”
Fuck, stop talking, Nancy, you sound stupid.
“Oh, no,” Steve shakes his head, “God no,” oh, shit, maybe that’s not his… but it looks so much like him, maybe a sister? A baby sister? Would his parents really have another kid? Nancy’s starting to get hopeful again, and she hates it, “Nope, that’s my boy,” he says proudly, grinning wider if that were possible as her stomach sinks and writhes, “My little nugget.”
Nancy frowns in confusion, brows furrowing, “Boy? But-”
Steve laughs and Nancy’s unable to pull her eyes away from him - at the pure, unadulterated joy bubbling up from him like nothing she’s seen in her last 10 years.
“He refuses to wear anything other than dresses,” he explains to her, “I tried to talk to him about it, I mean, they’re cute and all, but… you know, I was worried a bunch of shitheads would bully him and give him a hard time, but he doesn’t care. He loves them, so…” Steve shrugs.
This first 3k is already posted. For full releases at once, you can go here. Otherwise, I post semi-sporadically here and on AO3.
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
“In the first fraction of a millisecond, a flash of light superheats the air to 180 million degrees Fahrenheit, incinerating people, places, and things, and absorbing a once bright, once powerful, once vibrant city center in a holocaust of fire and death. The fireball from this 1-megaton nuclear weapon that strikes the Pentagon is thousands of times more brilliant than the sun at noon. People from Baltimore, Maryland, to Quantico, Virginia, see this flash of light. Anyone staring directly at it is blinded by it.
In this first millisecond, the fireball is a 440-foot-diameter sphere. Over the next ten seconds, it expands to 5,700 feet in diameter, more than one mile of pure fire—nineteen football fields of fire—obliterating the nexus of American democracy.
The edges of the fireball stretch all the way to the Lincoln Memorial to the north and into Crystal City to the south. Everything and everyone that existed in this space is incinerated. Nothing remains. No human, no squirrel, no ladybug. No plants, no animals. No cellular life.
The air around the fireball's edges compresses into a steeply fronted blast wave. This dense wall of air pushes forward, mowing down everything and everyone in its path for three miles out, in every direction. Accompanied by several-hundred-mile-per-hour winds, it is as if Washington, D.C., just got hit by an asteroid and its accompanying wave.
In Ring 1—a nine-mile-diameter ring— engineered structures change physical shape and most collapse. Piles of rubble left behind stand thirty or more feet high. The initial thermonuclear flash has set everything in the fireball's line of sight on fire. It melts lead, steel, titanium. It turns paved streets into molten asphalt.
At the outer edges of Ring 1, rare survivors become trapped in liquified roadways, catch fire, and melt. The X-ray light of the nuclear flash burns skin off people's bodies, leaving their extremities a shredded horror of bloody tendons and exposed bone. Wind rips the skin off people's faces and tears away limbs. Survivors die of shock, heart attack, blood loss. Errant power lines whip through the air, electrocuting people and setting new fires alight everywhere.
As tens of seconds pass, the fireball rises three miles up into the air. Its ominous cloud cap turns the light of day into darkness. Some 1 to 2 million people are dead or dying, hundreds of thousands more now caught in the rubble and the flames. "There will be virtually no survivors," the government's nuclear advisory panel has long warned of what will happen in the first ring around ground zero. "There will be nothing recognizable remaining.... Only foundations and basements remaining."
Never in the history of mankind have so many human beings been killed so fast. Not since a mountain-sized asteroid smashed into Earth 66 million years ago has so much global devastation been set in motion in a single strike.
The die has been cast.
The singular, haunting words from former STRATCOM commander General Robert Kehler come alive: "The world could end in the next couple of hours."
And now it is about to.” - Annie Jacobsen, ‘Nuclear War: A Scenario’ (2024) [p. 164 - 166]
1 note
·
View note
Text
Alone in The Great Pyramid of Giza
At Hourglass Expeditions, our mission is to provide the most amazing adventures to the most interesting locations around the world. We specialized in curating luxury and adventure trips made just for you and your traveling group. Contact us at [email protected] to discuss your plans to experience the world.
The U.S. dime is the smallest of the half dozen coins in circulation. At an average thickness of 1.35 mm, it is over 10% thinner than the penny — the next smallest coin produced by the U.S. Mint. It’s not very often that I carry change in my pocket, as I have gone mostly cashless, but the few times I do have a dime on me, it is hardly perceptible.
This is why it came as a surprise to me when I absent mindedly reached into the left front pocket of my North Face khaki pants and felt the reeded edges of a singular dime. Drawing it out, I stared at it for a few seconds wondering how it hitched a ride almost halfway around the world with me. As I contemplated this rather trivial mystery, another thought struck me, causing me to continue holding on to Mr. Roosevelt.
I had been slowly walking around the perimeter of theKing’s Chamberwithin theGreat Pyramid of Giza, just outside ofCairo, for over three minutes now. By sheer luck, I had the entire chamber to myself — a rectangular room 35 feet long by 17 feet wide, situated 141 feet above the sands of theGreat Western Desert, entombed inside of a structure weighing around 6 million tons. The enormity of standing in this near empty chamber washed over me as I considered the forty-five centuries of human history that had passed by since it was first constructed during the 4th dynasty of the Old Kingdom: feasts and famines, wars and peace, earthquakes and sandstorms, and yet…
I looked back at the dime pressed between the thumb and index finger of my left hand. I had already walked around the room twice and didn’t recall seeing a single crack on any of the faces of the pink granite walls the King’s Chamber was made of. The coin now had another purpose. I would use it to determine if there was a single crack 1.35 mm or wider that it could slip into. A structure this old, primitive, and built on shifting desert sand could not have survived this long without some structural damage, or at least wear and tear.
I circled the room a third time, but now with a mission. Besides myself, the only other objects in the room were the open sarcophagus of the pharaoh, a seismometer to measure movements of the earth, and a few lights. I was still the only person in the chamber — not even the sound of human voices echoing through the long halls made its way up to me. ‘This is almost unbelievable’, I thought to myself. ‘A city of 20 million people is just a few minutes’ walk away, with tens of thousands of tourists at any given time, yet here I am completely alone in the most famous pyramid in the world. How often does this happen in a place like this?’
I kept the dime close to the wall as I deliberately walked, my eyes continuously shifting from the floor to the ceiling, lit by the set of flickering halogen lights. I consciously took short steps, softly striking the dime onto the wall if I suspected something. Several minutes went by before I returned to my starting point. I was unsuccessful in my pursuit. In the 4,500 years since its construction and my visit, the structure was just as sound today as it was whenKhufuwas pharaoh…in 2580 BC. I was in awe.
I returned the dime to my pocket and made my way back through theGrand Galleryand Ascending Chamber to the entry. Exiting the pyramid back into the blinding light of the desert on the edge of Cairo, I knew I just had personal existential experience I’d never forget.
If you ever get a chance to travel to Egypt, take the time to go into the King’s Chamber. Once in there, close your eyes and let yourself be taken back to one of the earliest civilizations in human history. There aren’t too many opportunities in the world today to connect with our distant past. But if you find yourself alone in a pyramid one day, count yourself extremely lucky and savor the opportunity.
Has Egypt been on your list of places to visit? Whether it is the pyramids of Giza, the Valley of the Kings, or the Temples of Karnak or Abu Simbel, there is no shortage of incredible things to see and do. You can find a number of inspirational trips on ourEgypt Travelpage.
0 notes
Text
to the touch | pjm
pairing: park jimin x oc (ft. brother yoongi)
genre: mutual pining, fluff, cute crushes, brothers best friend
warnings: JIMIN that's it
words: 5, 216
summary: he's back
“You’re … you’re here?” You squeak and it’s not one of your best moments even if you were sure Yoongi would argue otherwise and that you rarely had average moments, to begin with. But there was something about spontaneity and surprise that threw you off in the worst way possible and made your brain short-circuit to the point where you’re unable to throw coherent thoughts together. And this was definitely a surprise, one that you’d never expected to happen because—
“I am,” Jimin says curtly, tossing you a firm nod of his head when he pushes you aside and steps into your apartment like he’s been year a thousand times. But in reality, it’s his first time standing at your doorstep, first time knocking on your door, and definitely the first step he’s ever had the chance to get a glimpse of how your living room looks like.
You’re still gaping at the entrance with the door open and you’re sure if any of your neighbors were to step out of their homes, they’d just see a lone girl outside that looked a little too unnerved to bother. When you snap out of it and turn your body to face your visitor, he’s already made himself comfortable on your couch and it’s hard to piece together the fact that Jimin was quite in fact in your living room, and lounging on your couch, staring at your television like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“W-What—how?” You croak because there are about ten million different thoughts running through your head but the most pressing one is how Jimin looked … different.
A good difference, for sure. He’s always been handsome and unreasonably so. Especially with the way that he’s dyed his hair back to black and the gentle fluff of how it lays atop his head. You note that he still kept his style despite him going MIA for three years and wore slacks that shaped his legs (and butt) beautifully with a casual shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was unfair how effortlessly good-looking he was on a spontaneous occasion while you looked anything but, especially with your sweats and old tank top.
But Jimin had always been a little hard to read. Terrifying and brassy all at once but never obstructive—although you’d argue that his presence was the obstruction as it is of how distracted you feel whenever he was around you years ago. It’s like you never learned how to accommodate his presence because he happened to fill every space with just his body even if he wasn’t that tall.
“I thought I’d pay a visit. Your brother gave me your address.” He says, finally turning his head to face you, and its still blank like every expression you remember made towards you. You expected nothing more or nothing less than the way he stares you over and makes you feel like the outsider in your own home.
“Yoongi …” You grit, cursing your brother mentally and hoping he’d make use of that stupid sibling telepathy power he claims he has to receive your gripe.
You clear your throat as you awkwardly shuffle closer towards the couch and hover awkwardly by the arm of the sofa to keep your distance. It’s been years and it’s still a little unfamiliar to see Jimin right in front of you, and not someone you kept at the back of your mind.
“You could’ve called …” You say softly while fiddling with your thumbs. Jimin just raises an eyebrow at you and you feel stupid for saying that already.
Some things don’t change and it’s proven when your heart still beats the same when he’s around you. You cursed at yourself for being weak-willed because you thought time would help you get over your silly crush on Jimin but you also long acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t just a crush. It was more.
You hated falling for the cliches of crushing on your brother’s best friend, especially one that was just emotionally reserved and detached ninety percent of the time. The only conversations you remember having with Jimin were the ones that you were blushing at him when he looked at you a little longer than usual, or when he drove you to and from school when Yoongi left for university.
But then he disappeared, without saying goodbye and you only found out from his parents that he got into a dance program abroad and packed his things and left. Obviously, twenty-year-old you was devastated because you somehow convinced yourself that he enjoyed your presence even if he was huffing and puffing every five minutes when you’d fall into a ramble of your own.
He changed his number and he wasn’t a social media person so you had no idea what he was doing or how he was, besides the occasional mention of his name in conversations you had with your brother. It sucked. Majorly. Because you really liked him even if he was cold because you knew that Jimin was a good person. A cold and shitty person wouldn’t pat you on your head before your wisdom teeth extraction and mumble it’s okay if he wasn’t kind.
“The place is nice.” He ignores your statement and glances around your apartment and you feel smaller. You do feel a little relieved that he approved of the place, and you did spend hours browsing through catalogues and going through roommates until you decided that this was perfect. Granted, it was a little pricey but you valued comfort and a decent workplace to really get you motivated.
“Thank you.” You mumble, still shifting on the balls of your feet and Jimin just raises an eyebrow at your impersonal stance. You know he wouldn’t point it out because he wasn’t that kind of guy, but his face often spoke for him so you swallowed all the concerns you had and took a seat at the edge of the sofa, as far away from him as possible.
“Do you live alone?” He asks. You’re about to respond but he doesn’t let you.
“It’s dangerous if you do. Do you really just answer the door for anyone without checking who it is? You’ll get yourself into some serious trouble if you aren’t careful.” He chides you.
You want to scoff at him because you were an adult and you’ve learnt a few things along the road to adulthood. Jimin was always a little on edge most of the time and you knew he was just bad at expressing his emotions so you never faulted him for it. But now, you were a little older and not as naive—but unfortunately still very much into him.
“God Jimin, it’s fine—”
The door opens and both your heads immediately turn to the source, and Jimin is sharp with his movements and you try to not allow your heart to flutter when he tugs you closer to him and hides your body with his own as if he thought it was an intruder. But you knew better, so you knew it was—
“Tae. You’re back early.” You greet your roommate who only eyes the man on the couch who has you situated behind him like he was your personal shield. His bag is tugged over his shoulder and you see a few of his art supplies threatening to fall out so you hop off the couch to help him with his belongings, and Jimin’s gaze just burns harder onto the back of your skull.
When you’re close enough, Taehyung leans in and gives a brief glance over at Jimin who is still piercing him with a fierce gaze.
“Why is your booty call staring at me like I’ve murdered ten kittens?” Taehyung whisper yells and you glare at him, pinching his hip because just because he thought he was being quiet didn’t mean that he could easily get rid of his naturally loud voice.
“That is not my booty call!” You respond equally as agitated, “That’s … Jimin.”
Taehyung’s eyes bulge out of his socket when he looks over your shoulder once more to still see Jimin glaring at the two of you.
“Why is he so fucking scary? You said he was nice!” Taehyung hisses.
“He is nice!” You weakly defend, “He’s just … scary looking?”
You know it doesn’t convince Taehyung because he’s sighing and dropping his belongings to the floor, offering Jimin as sincere of a smile as he can muster even though you’re fully aware that he’s terrified of the man on your living room couch.
“Hi! I didn’t know _____ was having guests over. I’m Taehyung.” He smiles brightly at said guest but Jimin just blinks at his cordiality and then looks over to you.
“Is he your boyfriend?” The question throws you off guard and you can tell that Taehyung even more terrified when Jimin completely ignores his presence even though he was the tallest person in the room.
You splutter for a response even if the answer to that was obvious. But Jimin had a shitty way of interrogating people, even if it probably would work in legal settings because he was just terrifying enough for you to stumble over your words and make you look guiltier than you were.
“Unfortunately not.” Taehyung thinks he’s saving you when he lightly jokes with Jimin. And you want to facepalm because Jimin was aloof and impartial to everything, and had horrible skills of reading the room because you were sure that Jimin thought that Taehyung wanted to get in your pants.
“Tae, would you excuse us for a second?” You smile stiffly at Taehyung who is quick to oblige as he darts into his room.
Jimin now has his arms folded across his chest in a manner that makes him look more hostile, but you knew him well enough that you suppose he just had a lot of questions.
“Did you really have to be like that?” You ask irritably as Jimin scoffs at you.
“Please, do enlighten me. All I did was ask you a simple question, which you couldn’t even answer. What was that about?” Jimin responds equally as displeased but you had so many questions and you didn’t need to deal with his mini tantrum right now, especially between the walls of your own home.
“Don’t turn this on me! You turned up to my house unannounced after three years of no contact and you expect me to bend at your will? What do you take me for? A puppet?” You retaliate with petulancy and you can tell Jimin is slowly getting more annoyed by the second but won’t blow up just yet. Or probably because you had another person in the house.
“Am I not allowed to visit?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.
You scoff at his audacity because Jimin was seriously so bad at reading emotions. You weren’t even sure why you liked him but your heart never made reasonable decisions for you.
“We haven’t spoken in years, Jimin!” You throw your hands in the air, “I didn’t even know where you were or what you were doing because you disappeared like you were running away from a crime!”
“Did I need to update you on my whereabouts?” You know his question is genuine even though it was posed a little rough and you want to pull at your hair because obviously, you wanted to know! Jimin was the person you spent the most time with, outside of school, and one day he wasn’t anymore.
“Of course! I thought we were—I thought … why did you just disappear?” For some reason, it was hard to say that you and Jimin were friends either because the only reason why he’d ever tolerate you in the first place was that he was a good friend to Yoongi and you were just someone that came with it by association. He never outwardly said that he hated spending time with you but he never said he enjoyed it either.
Jimin raises an eyebrow and stands up, and you notice that he still towers over you. He walks towards you slowly, and you feel all the hotter under his intense scrutiny that you just want to retreat to your bedroom and forget this ever happened.
“You don’t need to know.” He says and you feel yourself deflate, “I wanted to visit because your brother’s worried about you.”
The confession just annoys you because you knew to a certain extent that Jimin wouldn’t be here from … wherever he was … if it was only for your brother. He had to give a shit somewhere deep down in him enough to make an effort to get your address from your brother, then turn up on your doorstep unannounced with his usual impassioned stare.
“Oh fuck off, will you? I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.” You bite back.
Jimin shoots you an unimpressed stare at your snappishness and he won't lie and say that he was pleasantly surprised to see you after a long time. You were always pretty, in an unconventional way, he supposes. You never made an effort to look nice but just did with the way you approached life, even when you were younger. But now that you were standing in front of him with a bite that you didn't have when he left, he's intrigued.
"You weren't so rude before I left." He smirks at you.
His gaze also makes you burn and you avoid his eyes when it searches for yours. You hate that his tone makes you feel funny and that you wanted him to be a little mean.
"Yeah, well—that's what happens when you don't see someone after three years with no contact or notice. They change. They get a little annoyed because someone is just too emotionally constipated to ever make any effort to keep in touch." You narrow your eyes at him.
"Why are you throwing a hissy fit? Needed me to keep you company?" He prompts.
You flush but still glare at him.
"Whatever, Jimin. I just would've appreciated it if you called. Or at least have done something to let me know that you were alive." You mutter.
Somehow, he's managed to cage you in with his body against the back of the sofa, and your breath hitches when you feel his broad chest pressed on yours. You didn't realise it happened until he places his arms by your side, effectively leaving you with no room to leave. You gulp because this is the closest you've ever been to Jimin and you feel dizzy. He smells fresh like laundry and flowers. It's a huge juxtaposition to his demeanour, but he smells good and you want to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.
"Why would I? You're Yoongi's sister. Not my girlfriend." He smirks.
You huff and roll your eyes. The reminder stings a little and you know he's baiting you.
"So? Were we not at least friends?" You snap.
He wants to laugh because you're obviously annoyed at the casual way he referred to you as Yoongi's little sister. You're frowning but attempting to pretend that it didn't bother you.
Jimin would be lying if he said he was never interested. Because he was, undoubtedly so. But back then when you were still navigating your way at the beginning of adulthood with Yoongi constantly breathing down his neck, he would have never done anything to compromise his friendship with your brother; or lead you on. But now you were standing in front of him, soft and sweet with a little edge to you that draws him in.
"Do you usually have crushes on your friends?" He pushes.
Your eyes widen and snap up to look at his teasing expression. His smirk is apparent against the rest of his face and you feel absolutely mortified that he's so close to you when he called you out.
"W-What? A crush? I didn't have a crush on you!" You rebuff him with a stuttery voice and you weakly try to push him away.
But he locks you in position with his hands around your wrist as he leans down and crowds you further with his presence.
"You didn't?" He feigns hurt, then he pulls away abruptly and you're immediately chasing his warmth, "Shame. I would've liked that a lot."
You gape at him when he shuffles away, putting some distance between the two of you as he dusts his hands on his slacks, giving you a curt smile; one that never reached his eyes but that was still Jimin being friendly.
"Y-You what ...?" You squeak.
Jimin shrugs and walks towards your door and you're half-terrified and half-relieved at the prospect of him leaving. But you're more terrified because you don't know if you'll ever see him again and with your current interaction you don't think you'll ever get over him.
"Usually a cute girl crushing on me would be a huge ego boost ... but you didn't, so ..." He trails off.
You bite your lips as you play with your hands. You know he's teasing you and you didn't know when he's gotten so forward, or good at this game. But you suppose Jimin has always been charming too, even if he was bad at emotions. He was good at playing them. And the way he rakes his eyes over your body only to bite his lip makes you burn in want.
He's about to turn the knob of your door but you reach out to grab his wrist before your mind can tell you it's a bad idea.
"W-What if I ... what if I ..." You mumble, hands wrapped loosely around his wrist as he turns around, leaning against the door the way boys do that was super hot for no reason.
"Speak up, bunny."
The nickname only makes you blush harder because it reminded you of all the times he's ever called you that stupid childhood nickname that somehow followed you up until adulthood. But you had to admit the way that Jimin uses it makes you feel ...warm. Like you want him to call you bunny for whatever reason he does so.
"WhatifIdid ...?" You mutter quickly and softly that Jimin leans in to get a better listen, also prompting you to speak louder.
"Couldn't hear you." He sing-songs.
You grit your teeth and swallow your pride because even after three years, you were soft and pliant for Park Jimin even if he was hot to the touch. You just wanted to please him.
"What if I did?" You say a little louder, braver, with determined eyes, "What if I did have a crush on you?"
He grins at you in Jimin fashion that was still a little reserved but warm because you knew him. You knew that was what he wanted to hear. So, he rests his body against the door and gestures his finger in a come-hither motion to get you to step closer, which you oblige. It should've been offensive that he could summon you so easily, but Jimin was a lot of things but he would never take advantage of your passiveness.
"I don't know. What would you have done if I hadn't left? Play friends? Family maybe?" He teases.
You scrunch your nose at the prospect of playing family with him because you've heard that phrase way too many times. Your parents at one point kept on saying how you had two older brothers instead of one because Jimin was always there, but they were blissfully unaware of your crush and the way you'd frown at the suggestion.
"We would've hung out more ..." You mumble.
Jimin snorts but cocks his head for you to continue.
"What's the point of this?" You huff, shutting your eyes when you can feel his gaze on you.
"You tell me. You were the one with the crush."
You want to correct him and say am the one with the crush, but you bite your tongue.
"You're the one who wants to know." You respond with indignation.
He chuckles, low and deep before he tilts your chin upwards with his index finger.
"You're still a little girl, aren't you ______?" You think it's the first time Jimin has called your name the entire time he's been here and you almost whine with the sultry look he's giving you.
Jimin applauds his self-control because you were a sight to behold. Even if you were in sweats and a tank, with your glasses drooping slightly down your nose and tangled hair, you still were so appealing even if you didn't know. You looked comfortable, homey and it did make Jimin burn with an ugly monster to know that 'Tae' could see you like this daily.
"Am not." You growl, but he only thinks you look like an angry bunny.
"You are. You don't know how to ask for things, hm?" He hums, tracing a finger up your jaw to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
"I so do know how to ask for things that I want. I do it all the time." You retort petulantly like you had a point to prove but Jimin only chuckles darkly.
"Then what do you want right now?"
Jimin's question is expected but it also throws you off-guard.
"R-Right n-now?" You stutter.
He tuts as if he expected your bewildered and shocked expression.
"When else but now, bunny?" He whispers as his gaze has you locked in a trance when your eyes dart to his lips when he drags his tongue over it. You're entrapped in him because his mouth suddenly looked really inviting.
"I really wanna ..." You mumble, ears flushing a pretty shade of red and you lean into Jimin's hand when he cradles your cheek gently.
Jimin was capable of being gentle, even though he chose not to. But he never was, though there was something about you that made his territorial, made him want to fight. He didn't know when he started feeling this way but he supposed it was a flurry of emotions and the accumulation of the times he's spent with you throughout the years. Three years didn't do him justice and only made him think of you more. He knew he was hard to read, and frankly even harder to understand. Jimin also knew that you were fully aware of this fact. But that didn't deter you in trying to get to know him, to prick yourself against all his edges that were harder to accept.
You were sweet and naive, a type of person that Jimin would usually scoff at. But your one-dimensional and idealistic view of the world was fresh to him, even if that meant you were living in your head most of the time. It never took away from the fact that you were kind and understanding. The type of person that cracked all of Jimin's harshness made him want to try.
But it didn't mean he wasn't going to have his fun. He liked seeing you like this, gentle and warm, close to him as you look at him with a hazy expression.
"Wanna do what?" He prods, reaching his hand to the back of your hair to tug your face closer to his, but maintaining enough distance to prompt you to make the first move.
Jimin would do it. But he wanted to be sure that you wanted this, and not the idea of him. Sure, he was giving you hints and nudging you, but he also was aware of the fact that you'd never say or do anything that you didn't want. You were always clear-cut about this type of thing.
"You know ... that ... thing ..." You mumble, shifting on your feet as he glances down to your face.
You still looked unsure, but you leaned into his hold regardless, and Jimin took that as a good sign. You just need a little push.
"You know I'm not that bright. You need to tell me, bunny." He says gently.
You can't stop the small whimper in the back of your throat at the nickname and it's taking everything in Jimin's willpower to not take you against this wall. He would, but you deserved sweet things and he wanted to try be that for you.
"I ... I wanna ..." You whisper, "Wanna ... kiss you."
You clutch his t-shirt in his hands and when you glance up he's grinning widely as if he's won the lottery.
He nods his head ever so softly, and you take that as a cue to lean in.
When you do kiss him, you already feel your knees buckling because it's like everything you dreamed and more. Jimin was the right amount of assertive and gentle that makes you chase his mouth even if you were pressed up against him. He takes the lead eventually when his hand cups your jaw to angle your mouth deeper into his, and your body flush against his.
You feel like a teenager again having your first kiss, but it may as well be because you've always wondered what it was like to share your first kiss with Jimin back in high school.
"Is that all?" He whispers against your lips, but before you can respond—
"Oh fuck, I'm sorry!" You hear Taehyung squeak and that makes you pull away from Jimin, highly embarrassed to be caught making out with him against your door like a horny teenager.
You want to curse at Taehyung but he's already ducking into the kitchen before you can get any words out.
Jimin doesn't look affected, if anything, he looks pleased. The moment you shared a clear testament of who you belonged to and Jimin loved the fact of people knowing it was him.
When you look at Jimin, you're equally parts flushed from the kiss but giddy too. You give him a shy smile, and Jimin just chuckles lowly at your bashfulness.
"I'll see you around, ______," Jimin smirks at you when he reaches for the doorknob to leave. You follow him out, wanting a little more privacy even if it was in the hallway of your apartment complex.
When Jimin steps out and with you behind him, you swing on your feet as he observes your next actions. You clear your throat, even though you were confused and glad—because that was the closest thing you could get from Jimin that was affection so you'd take it.
"So ... what does this ..." You mumble, before shaking your head.
Jimin raises an eyebrow.
"What did I say about asking for what you want?" He berates you as if he was speaking to a child, but his tone is still curt and a little detached, but very like Jimin. You know that it's him and you like that anyways.
"Don't make me say it ... it's already embarrassing as it is ..." You whine, burying your head into his t-shirt.
Jimin welcomes the sudden closeness and pats you softly on the head. It's a little stiff because he still isn't used to physical affection that wasn't 'intimate', but he did say he would try for you.
"Again: I'm not that bright." He teases.
You roll your eyes, but then bite your lips when you see he's waiting for a response.
"... what does this mean for us?" You ask softly.
Jimin smiles at you and decides to grant you a gentle kiss to your forehead. A kiss that was so domestic and soft that you feel your heart soar.
"Check your phone." Is all he says when he waves you goodbye, as you stare at him dumbly, heart still fluttering and cheeks burning.
When you return back into your home, you lean against your door as you press a hand to your chest to feel the way your heart beats rapidly against it. You feel weak in the knees but so blissful that you let out a squeal into the palm of your hands.
Once you've calmed down, and offered Taehyung a look that said you'll explain later—you rush to check your phone, only to smile at what lies on the screen.
Unknown Number [17:21]: hi bunny
Unknown Number [17:21]: save my contact
Unknown Number [17:21]: make sure that when people see it they'll know you're mine
Unknown Number [17:22]: see you soon
Unknown Number [17:22]: if you're still a little slow ... it's jimin
Unknown Number [17:25]: ❤️
You notice the heart emoji was sent a few minutes after the rest of his texts, which showed you that he may have contemplated whether or not to send it. You feel your heart flutter, as you plop back onto your bed, a wide grin splaying on your face.
extra scene
"I'm sorry ... what?" Yoongi chokes on the piece of meat he just shoved into his mouth as he stares at his best friend in the face as if he'd grown another head. But as usual, he seemed to only attract people that were vastly similar to him, and Jimin's face is unreadable as ever. But Yoongi knows he's serious and not fucking around because he's looking intently at the older boy for a response.
"So?" Jimin says casually, leaning into his seat and Yoongi needs to chug down a glass of water to ensure that the food goes down all the way before he can say anything to the question Jimin just posed him with.
"You want my sister's address ... to ... I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong but I had a fall and I may have a concussion so I don't know if I'm hearing things right," Yoongi deadpans but Jimin just rolls his eyes at the older one's dramatics before nodding his head for him to continue.
"You want her address to ... confess to her?" Yoongi says hesitantly and Jimin nods his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
But it wasn't. Because as long as Yoongi's known Jimin, he's been all detached and broody, uninterested in everything and everyone. He's never shown the slightest interest in anyone and usually opted for casual hookups than actual relationships so clearly, Yoongi is a little skeptical.
"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks baffled.
Jimin nods, folding his arms across his chest.
"Yes. I went for a medical check-up that day and my doctor said he's never seen results as impeccable as mine." Jimin says blandly.
Yoongi scoffs.
"You're just not ... the dating type, you know? Much less ... with my sister?" It sounds weird to even Yoongi's ears. He grew out of his childish mindset and had no problem with Jimin dating you, but it was still weird to see his best friend showing interest in you.
"I like her. And I respect you. Which is why I came to you before I did anything."
Yoongi gapes at his best friend, who looks much softer than he usually does.
"Wow ... I just ..." Yoongi exhales, "Damn."
Jimin offers a small smile before gesturing to their food.
"At least we can really be brothers now." Yoongi jokes, sliding a piece of paper with your address on it to Jimin.
Jimin smiles fondly at the paper before tucking it into his shirt jacket.
The image of you in white, smiling and looking only at him drives him to see you the next day.
#bts fic#bts imagine#bts fics#bts imagines#bts fluff#bts jimin#jimin imagine#jimin fluff#jimin x reader#park jimin x reader#park jimin fluff#park jimin fic#fluff#mutual pining#cute
280 notes
·
View notes
Text
asystole {obi-wan kenobi x reader}
summary: ‘the trouble is the way you stick, to any part of me that remains in tact/but if i pull the plug, it isn’t only me i’m holding back’ - asystole, hayley williams (a.k.a ‘the one where you’re the bane of obi-wan’s life, even as a force ghost’)
warnings: mentions of death, swearing, angst, and me not having a single fucking clue how force ghosts work
this was originally based on a random idea i had and also encouragement from kara/@hellotherekenobi who requested a prompt that i completely forgot to include but...we move. also, i would highly highly recommend listening to the above song just because it’s a real tear jerker and i lOVE it
enjoy
- jazz
Loss, for Obi-Wan, was not a stranger. It was an old acquaintance, constantly lingering beside him -- not quite there, but not gone either. He could always feel its presence, a constant and painful reminder of everyone he’d lost. He could probably count them all one hand but that didn’t make it any better. Loss was loss, whether it were two people or ten. Even if his grief had stopped and started with the passing of his master all those years ago, it was still something he felt in its wholeness and in its entirety. Because that’s all Obi-Wan could do: feel. It was everything or nothing. Zero percent or one hundred.
And with you, he wished it were nothing. He wished that your sudden absence from his life was something he didn’t have to feel in every fibre of his being. It was hard enough to acknowledge and even more painful to comprehend. You were the one person he’d always just assumed would be there forever. How foolish it now seemed, he was very much aware. Everybody died -- Qui-Gon Jinn was a testament to that; as was Satine Kryze and quite literally every other person in the galaxy who’d had the pleasure of being reminded of their mortality. It was just that this was...it was you. You weren’t immortal by any means but maker, you had acted like it. The way you went about life with an air of recklessness and discontent for the rules, making even the hardest of missions into an adventure. His life had been a thousand times better since you’d come running - nay, stumbling - into it. You’d blown his entire world to bits and pieced it back together with tiny, intricate bits of yours. Filled it with chaos and laughter and a light he hadn’t felt since the days of his youth.
Perhaps most importantly, you’d looked after one another. He would stay by your side 24/7 to make sure you kept your head screwed on your shoulders, and you would pester him to drink water and remember to eat. He would remind you when you had important missions and meetings, and in return, you’d proof-read his paper work. He remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep beside you, to wake up with a blanket wrapped around him and his boots pulled off. It was so clear in his head because it was the first time someone had ever done anything for him without asking. It became something you did often, and though he never said it, it was something he kept so close to his heart.
Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew you weren’t going to be around forever - he just didn’t realise that not forever was going to be a whole lot sooner that he’d anticipated. He used to make jokes about how your recklessness would one day lead to your demise. The idea of it made him feel sick now. He’d been right the entire time. He didn’t want it to be real.
None of it felt real. The whole conversation he’d had with Mace Windu about you not making it felt like a distant nightmare, something he’d tried so hard to wake up from, only to find that he was wide awake the entire fucking time. Night terrors were bad, but reality was arguably worse.
It didn’t feel right at first, to see your chambers still filled with your stuff and your lightsaber still resting on your nightstand. Obi had been the one to put it there when you’d been taken to the infirmary, thinking you would have asked for it when you woke up - but you didn’t. It went hand-in-hand with the robes he’d hung up on your door and the get well soon, moron card he’d brought you.
Then, they emptied your room. Took your clothes and your books and every other worldly possession you had. Your name was removed from the door to your quarters and added to the list of Jedi who had died in combat on the stone in the Temple gardens. Aside from that, any sign that you had ever walked the halls or burst into council meetings at the last minute was gone. You lived on only in his memories, your lopsided smile ingrained into his mind and contagious laugh echoing constantly in his brain.
Throwing himself into work was the only option for Obi-Wan. He already took on a thousand things at once, but without you to help bare the weight, it became a million. If he was busy, he didn’t have time to think -- about you, or how fucking fragile everything was, or about all the ways he could have saved you. You’d slipped through his fingers, even when he’d be holding on so tightly. It wasn’t his fault. It was just...life.
A few weeks passed, and Obi-Wan continued to push himself. Everybody noticed it -- how suddenly busy he was, how quiet he’d become, how tired he looks. Blue eyes had grown exhausted with grief and regret, strawberry blonde hair becoming longer and unrulier than was characteristic for him. When you’d died, you’d taken a tiny piece of him with you. An important part. Maybe that part had been you.
It was on a cold Tuesday evening that he heard the four words. Sat out on the balcony of his quarters, watching Coruscant and life pass by in a blur ahead of him, a tangle of traffic and noise and a million sounds that he couldn’t quite decipher. The sky was a navy blue, cast with the tiny little glints and dots of distant planets. All worlds that you’d once promised to explore
‘You look like shit.’
He thought he’d imagined it at first. In fact, it wouldn’t have been the first time in the last few weeks that the sound of your voice in his head had felt clear enough to be real. Imagining things - hallucinations and echoes of the long gone - was simply part of the grieving process. A process he’d gone through countless times before.
The sudden appearance of you in the corner of his eye jolted him like an electric shock. Perhaps not that far off of the emotional equivalent of being hit by a bus. Or a light freighter. Or...all of those things at once.
You were ethereal. When he’d last seen you, you’d been...tired. Now, you were smiling and radiating some sort of energy that could only be described as quintessentially you. There was not a chance in hell that a grief-induced hallucination could be so life-like, so crystal clear. Plus, why would he have imagined you like this, slightly transparent and with a blue glow surrounding you? A fitting colour for your final form, he figured.
‘Shocked to see me?’ Your drawl continued. ‘Because if you think you’re shocked, let me tell you. One second I was napping and the next I was a fucking Force ghost. Could you imagine?’
Obi-Wan smiled softly. ‘I don’t think I could.’
‘I can float through walls, though.’ You grinned. ‘How cool is that?’
‘It’s...that’s very cool.’ He replied. ‘I don’t suppose you can hug Force ghosts?’
Obi-Wan reached his palm out towards you - slowly but surely, as though he were scared you were going to fade away all over again if he touched you. You mimicked his actions, faded blue fingertips just moments away from his. When they finally touched, they didn’t. You felt nothing. He felt a rush of cold, as though somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over him.
He didn’t fully understand the concept of Force ghosts. Studied them, sure. Understood them? Not quite. There weren’t enough Jedi texts in the galaxy to fully capture the complexity of what made somebody come back. Often, they were linked to acts of heroism, or stemming from action taken when the person was still alive. That didn’t seem like you though. You weren’t the sort of person to try to fiddle with jinxes and hijinkery that would allow you to come back once you were dead - at least not purposefully. There was certainly every chance you did it accidentally.
‘Guess not.’ You murmured. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’
The icy feeling only grew closer as you took a seat beside him. It was funny, because he thought that if he’d had the chance to reunite with you, that it would have been more emotional than this. Something filled with more feeling and grandeur. Instead, you’d just appeared, and acted as though you’d never been gone in the first place. Obi-Wan preferred it that way.
‘I’ve missed you.’ He continued to stare blankly ahead.
When you died, there were a thousand things he’d come up with that he’d wished he’d said. They ranged from comments about the weather to grand declarations of...how much you meant to him. All things he would never dare say to your face, and that’s probably why he came up with them. Because he would never get the chance to say them. And now, here you were, right beside him, and he had a second opportunity to get that closure -- but the words didn’t quite come. They stayed on the tip of his tongue, there, but not quite there. Even if this wasn’t quite the version of you that he imagined himself telling them to, it was still undeniably you.
‘I should hope so.’ You tried to nudge him with your elbow, but it was just another icy jab. ‘I would say that I missed you too, but I don’t know where I’ve been.’
‘What happened between then and now?’ Obi asked. ‘Between that and this?’
‘Okay, first of all - you can say my death. Coming up with a thousand other words for it won’t undo it.’ You said. ‘And...I don’t know. I just remember blaster fire, then some darkness, and then I was here.’
‘Did it hurt?’
‘Well it didn’t tickle.’ You replied ‘It was quick, if that’s any comfort.’
‘I suppose it is.’ He murmured.
‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.’ You observed. ‘I can go away if you want. I’m not sure how this whole thing works but if you want me to leave, I can go and scare Dex-’
‘- that’s the last thing I want.’ He cut you off. ‘I just..I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to acknowledge that you’re truly gone and it’s a little hard to do that when you’re quite literally a ghost.’
‘I’m not really gone though, am I?’ You said. ‘I’m still here. Not as I’d like to be, but I’m here.’
‘So as long as you’re around to irritate me and make snide comments, you’re here.’ He smiled. ‘Whether that’s in the flesh or...in the blue.’
‘I’m sorry it happened.’ You gently sighed. ‘Not sorry that I died for the greater good but sorry it was so..sudden.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ He wanted to reach across, to take your hand in his or run it down your arm - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with another rush of cold in place of what used to be warm flesh. ‘It was still undeniably your most half-witted decision to date but you saved a lot of people, so I won’t hold it against you.’
‘Oh, how kind.’ You snorted. ‘I bet you’ve secretly enjoyed the peace and quiet, Kenobi.’
‘I miss it already.’
--
Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, still on the balcony. The air was cold -- as evidenced by his violent shivers -- and the sky had changed from navy, to a turquoise-tainted pink. The city below was moderately quiet, signalling that it was still pretty early. The only sounds were coming from traffic in the distance and the occasional whoosh of a passing jet in the sky above. He stayed like that for a moment, azure eyes clouded with some kind of apprehension as he watched the clouds slowly pass, not a care in the world for the fact it was fucking freezing.
Last night had been real, even if there was no sign of your presence. Actually, that wasn’t quite true -- the robes he’d discarded before your appearance had been thrown over him like a blanket. They did little to protect him from the cold air, but it was a confirmation that you had been there. He wasn’t sure when you’d left - or how - but he was the only one on the balcony.
There were a lot of questions floating about in his head. Why were you only turning up now after weeks? Why had you materialised by him? Why were you here at all? You were finally free, free to do literally whatever you wanted, and you’d wound up by his side. There were millions and millions of places in the galaxy and somehow, his balcony was the one where you’d wanted to be.
After showering and shaving, Obi-Wan found himself heading towards the classroom of the best Jedi he knew: Yoda. If anyone was going to know anything about Force ghosts, it was him. He’d have to make sure not to let slip exactly what he was talking about - your relationship with him was far more attached than the code allowed, after all - in a more general sense, he must have had something to offer. It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught in Jedi training. If anything, it was the opposite. The lesson was don’t become attached enough to someone so that they haunt you! - and it was one at which he’d failed quite miserably.
‘Master Kenobi.’ Yoda sat in the middle of the classroom, meditating. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. ‘Of assistance, may I be?’
‘Good morning.’ Obi-Wan greeted him with a bow. ‘I have some questions, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.’
‘Do go on. Help, I might be able to.’
‘Right.’ He cleared his throat, awkwardly taking a seat beside him. ‘What do you know about Force ghosts?’
‘Lots. Specific, you must be.’
‘Say you had a dear friend, and they died.’ He began. ‘Then they came back a little while as a Force ghost.’
‘Come back, they don’t.’ Yoda opened one eye, glancing over at him. ‘Never gone, they were. The Force takes time to manifest.’
‘So...the ghost version of them is still them?’
‘Very much so.’ He said. ‘Why, there are many reasons. Many Jedi study for a long time to materialise as ghosts after passing.’
‘What if they didn’t?’
‘Then unfinished business, they have.’ He replied. ‘When a Jedi dies, their Force connections do too. If they are left unbroken, exist as a ghost they will.’
Well, that explained it.
‘Right.’ He murmured. ‘Last question, I promise - how long does that connection usually last?’
‘Months to years, it may be.’ He explained. ‘On their unfinished business, the connection depends.’
‘That makes sense.’ Obi-Wan nodded. ‘Thank you, Master Yoda.’
The little green creature simply nodded in response, turning his attention back to his meditation. He didn’t ask questions -- what was the point? He’d been around hundreds of years, and dealt with hundreds of similar things in that time. Truth be told, he didn’t have all the answers. He was just good at acting like it.
Obi-Wan pondered on the conversation for the rest of the day.
There were a lot of things that could have constituted your unfinished business. The list was endless, especially given how suddenly you’d passed. Nobody knew you better than Obi-Wan, but even he struggled to decipher it. You weren’t the sort of person who would hang around for no good reason. It had to be something important -- something so pressing that you quite literally couldn’t pass away in its entirety without dealing with it. Part of him was worried that he didn’t know at all; you were always sneaking about, always doing something that you shouldn’t have been. That left a long list of possibilities.
But Yoda had directly mentioned Force connections, right? Maybe he’d meant it in a general way, but Obi would have been a complete dumb-ass to think that the Jedi didn’t know what was going on. If the situation didn’t tell him, his seeming ability to know everything about everyone certainly would have. You were the only person he could have possibly been talking about.
It was something he knew he had to bring up, and so he made the mental promise to himself. The best time would have been that night, when he saw you again. If he saw you again. He trusted you to return. You knew better now than to disappear forever without saying goodbye.
And he’d been right. That evening, after he’d exchanged goodbyes with Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wandering out to the balcony. Sure enough, you were leant against the railings, back turned to him as you peered down at the city below. The air was cold again -- maybe because it was Winter, but also maybe because of you -- and the harsh winds blew back your hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it, to feel you, but he couldn’t. A man whose love language was physical touch was sure to suffer when the person he wanted most was a fucking entity.
‘You’re late.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Don’t your meetings normally end at six?’
‘Anakin wanted to talk about something.’ He replied. ‘So is this your life now? Waiting for me to come home?’
You snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been at the diner all day moving stuff around to confuse Dex.’
‘That’s mean.’
‘And what would you do if you were a Force ghost?’
Wait for you. Follow you.
‘Explore.’ He lied, leaning against the balcony beside you. ‘I spoke to Yoda today about...this.’
‘Mmm?’
‘He said that people who usually come back either purposefully prepared for it when they were still alive.’
‘Or?’
‘How do you know there’s an or?’
‘Because I sometimes struggled to turn on my lightsaber. You think I’m skilled enough to do this shit on purpose, Kenobi?’
‘You’re…’ brilliantly intelligent, easily the smartest person I know, ‘...clever. Don’t put yourself down.’
‘Just cut to the point.’
‘Right.’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat. ‘He said that, or that they had unfinished business. Force connections still strong enough to keep them here.’
‘So, you and me?’
‘What?’
‘Our Force connection.’ You said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You do know what we have one, right?’
‘I...I figured we were always just...close.’
‘No, you dipshit.’ You shook your head with a laugh. ‘They can develop between best friends. It’s a little rare, but we’re both so strong with the Force that it just happens naturally.’
‘That makes sense.’ he turned to look out at the city. ‘I didn’t really have a best friend before you.’
You looked over at him, a smile playing on your lips. ‘Yeah, me neither.’
--
Obi-Wan quickly fell into a routine, post-you. Not post-you completely, because he still saw you every evening, but that had helped push him towards the transition. He adjusted to only seeing you after work - not in the mornings or during the day or every waking second like it used to be. Nothing was how it used to be. Not even close. You were no longer beside him during meets or climbing into bed next to him when you had nightmares. There were no more missions with you or late nights filled with paperwork and laughter.
That was the problem.
You were here, but you weren’t really. The ghost he saw every night had your eyes and your laugh and your personality, but it wasn’t really you. Obi-Wan couldn’t touch you; he couldn’t feel you in the same way he used to. It was like having a conversation with a figment of his imagination -- conversations of false hope and plans that would never come to fruition. Because you could banter and you could laugh and you act like things weren’t completely fucking different, but they were. You were a ghost. A ghost of yourself, a ghost of the past, a ghost of what used to be.
It had helped the pain at first. Eased the dread of knowing that you weren’t ever going to be back, not properly. Obi-Wan had appreciated that. It made grieving a lot easier when you were technically still there to tease and jester him through the process. Knowing that his friendship was the reason you couldn’t fully let go of existing had both made it better and worse. Better, because it meant you cared for him as deeply as he did for you. Worse, because it was so open-ended. At what point would you be satisfied enough to finally let go? Would he get to say goodbye, or would you just be here forever?
That was the problem, Obi-Wan had come to find.
He was hopelessly in love with you - though that much was obvious - and he couldn’t deal with only having some of you. He wanted all of you, or he wanted none of you. Only being able to talk to a blue apparition of you just wasn’t enough. It was just a constant reminder that the person he loved most in the universe was gone, and that he’d never fully have you. He was kicking himself for that one. What if he’d said something to you when you were still alive? Declared his love for when he could still physically reach out to you?
That was the thought plaguing his mind every night. With you beside him, a cold aura radiating towards him as you sat with your legs hugged to your chest. It had been a few weeks since your first appearance, and your nights together ranged from deep conversations to comfortable silence. The latter was always worse, because Obi-Wan constantly found himself teetering on the edge of saying something. It was hard, because despite everything, he found you to be more enchanting and peaceful than ever. More entrancing.
‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked.
‘Sure thing.’ You peered over at him. ‘You look worried. Is it serious?’
He paused for a moment. ‘Depends how you take it, I suppose.’
‘Try me.’
‘There are…’ he faltered again. ‘There are some things I regret not telling you when you were still here.’
‘I am here.’ You reminded him.
‘No, I know that.’ He found himself unable to look at you. ‘I mean when you were here here.’
‘What’s the difference, Obi?’
‘Remember when you used to come to my bedroom at 2AM because you’d had a bad dream?’ He asked. ‘Or when you’d throw yourself into my arms after we’d been separated on long missions?’
‘Yeah.’
He absent-mindedly reached a hand out towards you; it went straight through you, a rush of cold shooting down his arm. ‘I can’t do that anymore.’
‘You can still talk to me.’ You urged. ‘You can still be with me-’
‘- not in the way I want.’ Not in the way I need.
‘What do you mean?’ You gently pushed.
‘You don’t need me to explain it.’ He finally looked at you, blue eyes shrouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher.
‘Obi-Wan, what do you think has been keeping me here?’ You asked.
You knew. Of course you fucking knew. Try as he might to be mysterious and suave, but you could read him like a book -- and it was a shock to you that he hadn’t seen your feelings either. They were clear as day to both of you, and yet it had been easier to ignore them for the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of the code. You both always figured that you could deal with them at a later date, because that’s when you’d had a later.
‘Just say it.’ You murmured. ‘Say that you love me too and I’ll go-’
‘- I don’t want you to go.’ He cut you off. ‘Because then you’re gone forever.’
‘And then you can move on.’ You smiled. Neither of you knew that ghosts could cry until now.
This was the closest he would ever get to having you now. He could have just sucked it up and dealt with it, and kept you by his side in your ominous form - but would that have been fair on you? To keep you around, just because he was so full of regret over things unsaid and so full of fear over grieving? None of this was fair, on him or on you.
‘I can’t say it.’ Obi-Wan murmured. ‘Not yet.’
‘It’s okay.’ You gave him a watery smile. ‘I know.’
Neither of you said anything else - maybe you didn’t want to, or maybe you were scared to. The fact you’d finally acknowledged the bantha in the room after years, finally admitting that love had been the driving force behind what made your friendship so good, for so long. The irony was that when you’d died, he’d wanted nothing more than for you to come back in some form. Now, he realised that it was holding him back from moving on -- and he couldn’t do that until he’d let you go. But he couldn’t do that either.
Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, his words had been a confession. Albeit a thinly veiled one, but a confession nonetheless. It had confirmed to you the only thing you’d wanted to know before you’d passed: that he loved you back. That was all you needed. It was all you’d ever needed.
Eventually, the Jedi beside you grew sleepy. That’s how it usually went every night -- you’d talk, he’d fall asleep beside you, and you’d cover him with a blanket and slip out to wherever it was that Force ghosts went at night. He never asked, for fear of it ruining the mystery. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t the only person you saw, but it was a nice thought, and one he didn’t want to taint. At least you took more mercy on him than you did with Dex, who slowly thought he was going insane at all the random objects suddenly being moved around.
When you heard him gently snoring, you stood up. Obi-Wan looked peaceful, as though he’d finally gotten something of his chest - even though he hadn’t realised he’d done it. He hadn’t realised that it had been enough.
You leant down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For the first time since you’d appeared, you could finally feel his skin against yours - no cold jolts, no body parts suddenly disappearing through the other. Just your lips against his; warm and...human.
‘Good night, Obi-Wan.’ You ran a hand through his hair, before standing up and stepping back. ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’
He felt it. He was asleep, but he felt your lips on his and your hand in his hair, and he’d secretly smiled to himself, not entirely realising what was going on. He’d thought it was a dream, or that he was simply imagining that you could finally touch him as though you were a human, and no longer a cold, blue ghost.
Because you weren’t. You were no longer a ghost.
Obi-Wan didn’t realise till he rose the next morning, a blanket tossed over him and the feeling of your lips still lingering on his, even hours later. He even dared to smile for a moment, before the knowledge of what he’d done hit him. He’d given you what you wanted - an unintentional confession of love. The thing you needed to finally cut off your Force connection. The only thing still tethering you to this world.
You were gone, but at least he’d finally gotten what he wanted. You. Even if it was only for a few moments.
#obi-wan x reader#obi-wan x you#obi-wan imagine#obi-wan angst#obi-wan kenobi x reader#obi-wan kenobi x you#obi-wan kenobi imagine#obi-wan kenobi angst#obi wan x reader#obi wan imagine#obi wan angst#obi wan kenobi x you#obi wan kenobi x reader#obi wan kenobi imagine#obi wan kenobi angst#star wars x reader#star wars x you#star wars imagines#star wars imagine#star wars angst
286 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ok modern zuko would be an expert at breakdancing and sokka would be the guy who just bi-panicks whenever he does
(whoops, my hand slipped and I accidentally wrote a modern au headcanon turned zukka karate au one-shot)
Okay but consider this instead: Zuko doesn’t know how to dance for shit and has horrible rhythm, but he is a GOD at martial arts. He’s been doing some type of style since he was a kid and is a full black belt by the time he hits high school. Martial arts was always something he excelled at, but it was also something that made him feel more secure. It was something he could work on to help him protect himself from his home life, even if it wasn’t enough most times. He specifically excels in weapons forms (I’m thinking twin sais) and you DO NOT want to spar with him. Because he may be skinny and shorter, but he’s quick and can hit hard at just the right spots.
When he was younger he was obsessed mainly because he felt that belt rankings and trophies from competitions were a way to prove himself to his dad, but when he moved in with Iroh (who encouraged him to keep it up and was so proud of how talented and passionate he was about it), he basically used it in place of talking about his feelings. He didn’t talk about his home life or the shit Ozai did, instead, he put all his energy into his black belt levels, learning new weapons forms, and eventually into teaching new students as a junior instructor.
At school, he’s awkward and asocial and just doesn’t have the energy for people. Zuko has little patience for asshole classmates who ask intrusive questions about his scar or spread rumors about where he got it. He eats lunch in his English classroom and would be a complete shut-in if Iroh didn’t get him to work part-time at the Jasmine Dragon. But in the dojo, he’s focused and is able to direct his energy into improving his forms and teaching younger teens.
One of his newer students transferred from a different dojo after moving from a different state. He’s actually a freshman at Zuko’s high school but it’s not as if Zuko really interacted that much with him. This kid, Aang, is as talented and dedicated as he is, but has a long way to go to learn all the new katas. Zuko’s been dubbed the ‘scary’ trainer at the dojo. He’s the serious one who will yell if someone is goofing off and everyone’s seen that he has no problem using full force in a demonstration (little kids love him and he’s super nice to them, but he teaches the 12-15 age range). Plus there’s that scar, which doesn’t make him the most initially welcoming person. But this new kid Aang just latches onto Zuko immediately. He says hi to Zuko in the halls at school and works on his katas outside of regular practice times. At first Zuko thinks this sickeningly positive kid is annoying as crap, but warms up to him. He likes that Aang cares about martial arts and isn’t nice as a show, he’s just genuinely nice.
And maybe he sees Aang hanging around school with a sophomore girl and her brother who just might be in Zuko’s calc class and English class.
And maybe Zuko thinks this guy is insanely attractive and somehow incredibly funny even though most of his humor consists of the worst puns imaginable.
But obviously, Zuko hasn’t attempted to ever actually talk to this guy. The most that he could classify as ‘talking’ to the cute, funny guy on the robotics club is the one day in English class when he had to respond to someone’s dumbass comment about Macbeth with what ended up being a ten minute spoken essay about obvious motifs and symbolism. To which Mr. Puns and Ponytail was very obviously paying great attention to and even gave Zuko a smile and thumbs up for.
Zuko knows it’s pointless to engage. After all, he’s a senior and he doesn’t have any friends anyway. There’s no point in making any this year. Crushing on this guy from the comfortable position of the other side of the room is totally good enough for him. Totally. This is fine. He’s fine.
Besides, he’s got competitions and if he doesn’t secure the regional championships this year he’s never going to get the chance after he goes to college. And he’s got his kids to train. Aang in particular is gearing up for his first debut into this area’s tournament.
The tournament’s in October and usually, Zuko focuses on his own matches and performances, but Aang really wanted him to watch his set. So on this day, he stands on the sides of Aang’s zone instead of obsessively going through his katas in a corner.He’s not going to be able to watch the whole set because it overlaps with his own weapons portion, but he stands on the side and gives Aang a reassuring look that, ‘don’t worry, you’ll do great, you’re a talented kid,’ when his student looks over to him nervously.
And wouldn’t you know it? Aang brought some friends to come watch. And one of them is Mr. Zuko’s Big Gay Crush.
“Oh, hey Zuko,” are the words that come out of this guy's mouth that give Zuko a near-stroke. And damn if this guy’s eyes aren’t blue and pretty and he usually wears his hair in a ponytail at school, but now he’s wearing it down and Zuko wishes he could take screenshots with his brain because holy moly.
“Hey.” Is the best that Zuko can get out of his dumb mouth. “You’re Sokka.”
“Aang invited us to come watch,” Sokka nudges his head to indicate the ‘us’ includes his younger sister, who Zuko doesn’t know the name of. “How do you guys not get heatstroke during these things? It’s like a million degrees in here.”
“Oh the gi’s pretty cold, I mean, it’s got air and stuff.”
Zuko decided right there that he would be completely fine with being struck by lightning. Of course, that’s what his stupid brain would come up with. Of course, that’d be the thing he’d say in front of one of the smartest guys in his class.
They watch Aang perform his set for the judges. Zuko recognizes that Aang took his advice when he said that he wasn’t putting enough force into his hits. He’s never seen Aang be as, well, aggressive isn’t the right word, but he’s definitely putting more power into his form. Zuko wouldn’t admit it, though, but only part of his attention was for Aang at the moment. The other part was for Sokka, who was smiling bright and pumping his fists when Aang completed a row of kicks.
The small part of Zuko’s brain that wasn’t being taken up by watching Aang or trying to act normal around his crush noticed the clock on the wall indicating that the weapons portion would be starting in five minutes.
“I’ve got to go do a thing so I’ll just, um, go do that now.”
“Are you competing too?” Sokka asked.
To this question Zuko just holds up his sais and raises his eyebrow as if to say ‘it’s a tournament, what do you think?’ Because yeah, he knows Sokka’s super smart, he’s seen him churn out calc answers at the speed of light and noticed his name on the robotics club awards update on the school’s website, but he’d also seen Sokka eat 5 packs of fundip at once on a dare and unironically wear a ‘women want me, fish fear me’ t-shirt for most of junior year. Somehow he had managed to fall for the smartest dumbass on earth.
“Oh yeah, right.” Sokka eyes the sais and then looks right at Zuko’s face, “Aang says you’re really good.”
Zuko decides that thinking about Aang talking to Sokka about him was something he didn’t need distracting him during his set. That was something he could anxious about later.
“Hopefully good enough for those five assholes,” Zuko replies, gesturing to the panel of judges in the weapons section of the gymnasium. To his shock, Sokka laughs. It’s a nice laugh, too. And Zuko really hoped he could blame the blush that was one-hundred-percent creeping up his face on the lack of AC.
“You know, you’re pretty funny man,” Sokka tells him. Zuko has no clue how to take that compliment, but he really does need to go.
“Right,” he grins nervously and shifts his left foot around to bounce away, “well I have to go do my thing.”
“Good luck!”
That’s where Zuko thinks the beginning and end of his interaction with Sokka would be.
The weapons portion thankfully goes by age. And since Zuko’s one of the youngest competitions, he gets to go first for his sai katas. This is what literal years of training have prepared him for. At regionals last year, the second advanced kata got him placed high enough to qualify for states. This is what he’s good at. He tells himself that a thousand times before starting his set.
There’s not a thought in his head as Zuko goes through the form. The sais glide through his fingertips with every jab, block, and hook. The imaginary opponent doesn’t stand a chance. He’s cool and competent and graceful. It’s therapeutic in a sense. There’s enough adrenaline to make Zuko feel like he’s worth something, but more importantly, he knows he’s nailing this. Whatever the judges say about it, he knows that he’s perfected this form after practicing it at least a thousand times over three years.
The judges agree with him. He’s the first competitor of the weapons portion but there isn’t really a doubt in their minds about who’s going to place.
Zuko zones back in to the gym after bowing to the panel. He walks off, feeling lighter and letting a satisfactory smile take over his face.
He expects the hug from Uncle and the proud smile from Sensei Piandao, but what he doesn’t expect is to see Sokka, eyes wide as globes, staring at him from the other side of the mat.
Because what Zuko doesn’t know is that the second he turned his wrists in his first form during his hooks, Sokka’s brain went into Full Bi Panic Mode.
And Zuko thinks the one conversation where he couldn’t talk like a human and wanted to die for most of it would be the only time Sokka would decide to willingly talk to him. Zuko is dead wrong. Sokka, in fact, has decided that this, this is the guy his Disaster Bi Brain has decided to latch onto. Sokka’s brain and all his squishy feelings have apparently decided to attach to this aloof kid with the scar who reserved his voice for eloquent, impassioned speeches about dramas and was apparently an actual god with weapons. Sokka decides that Zuko could roundhouse kick him in the side and he’d thank him. And right now Zuko’s looking at him with a dumbfounded expression, prompting Sokka to remember how to function so he can go over to congratulate Zuko and maybe ask if his dojo provides a free trial.
So yeah, that one conversation ends up decisively not being the end of anything.
#sorry#not sorry#zukka#zuko#sokka#atla#avatar the last airbender#fanfic#I'm gonna edit and add to this#and probably updated something on my ao3 in the first time in a literal month#thanks babe for the inspiration#the babes are asking#hot leaf content
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
My One in a Million CH 7
Y’all, this chapter got so out of hand and it’s so lOnG (or at least longer than any other chapter I posted)
Thank you so so much @inloveoknutzy @knittingdreams @heyitssmiller and @donttouchmycarrots !! You all helped with this chapter in different ways and I appreciate you all so much❤️❤️
Tag list (let me know if you want to be added!)
@whataboutmyfries @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @cheekeebabe (i can’t seem to find your tumblr :( ) @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge
CW: mentions of past animal abuse, emergency clinic, mention of needles
Masterlist
Ao3
Chapter 7 - Rough night
“Go home, son.”
Remus lifted his head from where it’d been buried in his hands for who knows how long and looked at the doctor smiling sadly at him.
It was well past any reasonable time, he’d probably been sitting there for hours, but Remus couldn't bring himself to move from his spot in the waiting room.
He didn't want to go.
He couldn't stand the idea of going back home alone, of Cocoa not being there with him. He felt as if he wasn't really there at the clinic, his mind was miles away in a deserted, foggy forest, where a furry little puppy was chained to a tree, barely keeping his eyes open, his ribs protruding like a black skeleton. How could he just go?
The feel of Cocoa’s body trembling with spasms in his arms as he’d carried him to the car was still fresh in his mind; how he’d whined pitifully from the back seat while Remus sped through the city until he reached the emergency clinic, how both their hearts had been beating a thousand miles per minute when he picked him up again and burst through the front doors.
The fear clutching at his heart had made him numb to anything else going on around him, to the way he’d practically screamed at the poor guy at the reception desk until someone came to help him. And even though he knew it was exactly what he’d come here for, parting from Cocoa and watching as they took him away had almost broken Remus all over again.
He would give anything to feel that heartbeat under his palm right then.
A hand settled heavily on his shoulder, grounding him back into his body. Remus didn't want to listen to those words again. Go. It sounded a lot like he was abandoning him.
"You need to rest. And Cocoa needs to stay in observation, but I promise we will take good care of him. You can come back tomorrow afternoon, he’ll probably be ready to go home by then."
Resigned, Remus nodded. He knew he couldn't stay and that Cocoa was in good hands, but that did nothing to quell his guilt.
He thanked the doctor, who squeezed his shoulder once, and walked numbly out the building.
The next half hour was a blur. Remus had no idea how he got back to his apartment building, he only had vague memories of getting back into his car and driving through the mostly empty streets.
All he knew was that he was now there, standing in front of his door, staring at the pattern in the wood without really seeing it, picturing the empty flat that was awaiting for him on the other side instead. Remus counted to ten and sighed. He figured it wouldn’t get easier any time soon, so he fished in his pocket for his keys.
Only to realise he didn’t have them.
He stared at his empty pocket as he replayed in his head how he’d dropped the keys to the floor when he’d gotten home earlier that day, and in his haste to get Cocoa checked, he hadn’t grabbed anything other than the car keys.
“Fucking fuck, just...fuck!” he slammed his fist against the door once, like that was going to solve anything.
Suddenly he felt exhausted. He’d been through way too many emotions in just one day and all he wanted to do was lie in bed, but he couldn’t do that ‘cause he was fucking locked out. Remus let his back hit the wall and slid down to the floor, hiding his head in his knees. Despite everything, part of him was kinda glad that he didn’t have to go in when he knew there would be no one there expecting him.
He’d left him at the clinic. Alone. Probably inside a tiny cage, with no one there to comfort him and those horrible intravenous lines piercing his skin. Remus knew first hand how uncomfortable those were.
His eyes burned as tears started prickling behind his eyelids and dampened the fabric of his shorts. It was his fault. Two years ago he’d promised he would take care of Cocoa, make sure he was happy, and look how that turned out.
“Remus?”
Oh, fuck. Remus tightened his grip on his knees as he heard fast footsteps approaching.
“Remus, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
The rustle of a bag thumping against the floor close by was the only warning he got before he felt someone kneeling next to him, but Remus refused to look up. What the hell was he doing out at this time? Remus was not sure he could deal with this right now. Not with the tornado that was Sirius Black.
He could feel the other man shuffling about, most likely not sure what to do, until he finally said softly, “Remus, please look at me?”
There was such a plea in his voice, and a level of concern he hadn’t expected. Remus knew he couldn’t stay this way forever, so he reluctantly raised his head, doing his best to dry his face on his clothes as he did. He just hoped his eyes didn't look as bloodshot as they felt.
Sirius' eyebrows were furrowed, worry written all over his face as he knelt there, his hands half-raised like he wanted to touch Remus but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
Remus stared into silver eyes, trying his damn best to school his features into a mask of impassiveness. “I...I forgot my keys.”
“Ok…” Sirius eyed him wearily. “Do you have any spares?”
“Leo does, but I can’t ask him to bring them now,” Remus shrugged.
“So what, you were just going to sit here all night?”
Remus didn’t reply. He just shrugged again, his gaze glazing over and drifting to the wall in front of him. He wasn’t sure he had many options, and his brain wasn’t cooperating to come up with a solution. Maybe he could force the door open. But then he would have to pay for the damages, and he might not be able to close the door again and leave it broken for the night.
A sigh brought him out from his unhelpful thoughts. “Why don’t you come to my place?”
“What?” his eyes snapped back to Sirius, who quirked an eyebrow at him.
“You can’t possibly spend the night here Remus. For one, it’s freezing cold and you’re only in your gym clothes. And for another, I won’t allow it.”
It did seem like a very reasonable option, but then Remus noticed just how close Sirius was from him, his warmth radiating from his body and warming Remus’ numb fingers. Suddenly, all he could think of was how he’d almost kissed this man just a couple of hours ago. What if Sirius was only asking because of that? Was he purposely trying to get Remus alone?
“Ah, thank you, but I can go to my Mum’s or...or I could sleep in my car.”
“Remus don’t be stupid. It’s the middle of the night. Your Mum lives far away and she’s probably sleeping right now, and seriously? What the hell are you thinking? Sleeping in your car? No fucking way, that’s dangerous, and I have Netflix, ice cream, and a perfectly good guest room just three feet away.”
Remus hesitated. Even if he felt more comfortable knowing there was a guest room available, he still wasn’t sure he could face Sirius and whatever had happened in that pool. Wouldn’t it be awkward?
But Sirius did have a point, he couldn’t go back home. And though he was reluctant to admit it, he didn’t want to be alone right now and Sirius’ voice was strangely calming.
“Are you sure?” Remus asked, biting his lip.
“Of course.” Sirius smiled and got up, picking up the bag that he’d dropped on the floor. It was from the shop down the corner, full of snacks and a pack of cigarettes as far as Remus could tell. He offered Remus a hand and helped him get up, then led the way to his flat without another word.
Remus followed numbly, using what was left of his strength to lift his feet enough not to drag them over the floor. Once inside, he glanced idly around, noticing a few more details now that there were no people partying everywhere. There was a weird mix of decor going on: some of the stuff was tastefully modern (and very expensive), while other things were the kind of trinkets you would most likely find at a thrift store or in a street market. A Queen flag hung from the same wall as a street sign that had clearly been stolen, right next to a huge telescope that looked out the window.
“Make yourself at home,” Sirius said over his shoulder as he went over to the kitchen.
Doors closing and the sound of ceramic clinking came from the place Sirius had disappeared to. Remus moved in autopilot to sit at the couch and glanced down at his hands. His brain felt like mush, his mind going completely blank while he waited.
He didn’t move an inch until Sirius came back a few minutes later, holding a steaming cup of tea that he offered Remus. It took him a couple of seconds to figure out how to move his arm again, and when he did, it was trembling so badly that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold the cup without spilling tea everywhere. He hoped Sirius wouldn’t notice, but by the way he frowned, he had no such luck.
Indeed, Sirius placed the mug on the coffee table before Remus could get a hold of it and sat down in front of him. He then reached slowly to clasp Remus’ hand in both of his.
“Jesus fuck Remus, you’re fucking freezing. Just how long were you sitting out there?” he asked in a reproachful tone.
Remus simply shrugged. He had no idea, and besides, he was too focused on Sirius’ big hands around his. He knew he probably shouldn’t, that the other man probably didn’t even mean it in that way, but he took comfort in that small touch, in how gently Sirius held him. It was as if he was scared Remus would break, or disappear in a cloud of smoke. He vaguely wondered if Sirius realised how long it’d been since Remus was touched like this.
When he spoke next, Sirius’ voice was softer. “Ok, this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to forget about that cup of tea, go take a hot shower and change into warmer clothes. Warming your fingertips and digestive tract is pointless if the rest of you is still freezing. And after that, we’ll get you sorted for the night. D’accord?”
A steaming shower sounded like bliss right then, especially now that Remus was painfully aware of how cold his shaking body was. Just accept it, he told himself, but all that came out of him was “I don’t have clothes to change into.”
His voice sounded dull even to his own ears, but Sirius kindly ignored it and waved a dismissive hand.
“I’ll lend you some. Now come on,” his tone didn’t leave room for arguing.
Remus was finding it harder and harder to look at his face, so he let his head drop. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Remus.”
Slowly, warm fingers extended towards him, touching lightly below his chin to make him look up. Sirius’ face was a wonderful mix of fierce and caring as he stared at him intently.
“You are not a bother. Ok? Not now, not ever.”
Remus’ throat closed up, and he didn’t trust his voice to sound steady, so he just nodded quickly. Sirius smiled reassuringly and brushed his fingers in a feather-like caress, and Remus found himself jutting his chin forward to prolong the touch, but, much too soon, Sirius let go and got up.
He guided Remus through a hall and into a spacious bathroom that had both a big bathtub and a shower cubicle. Sirius went straight to open the hot tap so the water would warm up, and then he reached into the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a soft looking white towel, which he placed on the counter. He turned to look at Remus.
“Toiletries are just in that corner, use whatever you need. I’ll just go get some clean clothes for you and be right back.” He smiled again and left.
With nothing else to do, Remus let his eyes wander around the room that was slowly filling with hot steam from the shower, until he looked on top of the sink and was startled at his own reflection in the mirror.
Damn, he was a fucking mess. His clothes were rumpled, his hair ruffled and dishevelled from all the times he’d raked a hand through it, and his eyes were red, puffy and a little bit dead.
“Here you go.” Sirius walked back in, carrying a pile of neatly folded clothes which he put next to the towel. “Call me if you need anything, d’accord? Take your time.”
Remus nodded and thanked him, not quite able to meet his eye. Sirius closed the door behind him and Remus took off his clothes and stepped in the shower. He hadn’t realised how taught his muscles were until the jet of hot water hit his back and he relaxed under the pressure. It was very soothing, standing there for a while, slowly working his body to loosen up, while thinking of everything that had happened that day and trying to calm down.
By the time he finished, he hadn’t succeeded completely, but felt a lot better all the same. He snagged the towel, draping it across himself, and went through the pile of clothes that Sirius had left for him, a warm feeling spreading through his chest.
The feeling extended to his cheeks when he picked up a small square of black fabric, only to realise it was a pair of Sirius’ underwear.
Oh God, was he really going to wear his neighbour’s underwear? His hot neighbour’s underwear? His hot neighbour whom he very much had wanted to pin against the pool tiles and kiss senseless?
He bristled and looked up at the ceiling. Well, it’s not like the air between them could get any more awkward, could it?
***
Sirius started tugging at his bottom lip for the ninth time since he’d sat at the sofa. Remus had been in the shower for a really long time and he was starting to get worried. He still felt slightly thrown off-kilter by the way he’d found the man sitting by the door, curled in a ball and hugging his legs as if his life depended on it.
And the despair in those amber eyes when he’d finally looked up at him… How the fuck was he supposed to ignore that? He never wanted to see that look in Remus’ eyes ever again.
He was just about to go over and knock on the door when he heard some shuffling, and his head perked up to see Remus walking into the room and stop by the archway awkwardly. Sirius tried to ignore how cute Remus looked in his sweats and hoodie that were two sizes too big for him. His wet curls were flopping over his forehead adorably, but damn, it was certainly not the time to be smitten by the man.
Remus was clutching his own clothes against his chest in a protective stance, like that could shield him from...Sirius had no idea what.
And that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it? This man was so open one minute and incredibly guarded the next; Sirius could tell he was desperately trying to protect himself from something. But he just didn’t know why.
He mustered up a smile, trying to make Remus feel more at ease, and approached him. “Hey there,” he eyed Remus’ face discreetly. He looked better, but still seemed to be a bit off and he held the bundle tighter when Sirius got close. “I can show you where the guestroom is if you want to lie down, and then I’ll make you another tea. I’m afraid I drank the other one while I waited. Both cold and warmed up tea should be a crime,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood. Anything to get Remus to drop some of his walls.
The corner of Remus’ mouth quirked up slightly, and, given the circumstances, Sirius took that as a success.
"Actually, I… I don't think I can sleep right now," Remus said, rubbing at the side of his neck.
"That's ok," Sirius reassured. "Do you want me to stay up with you? We can play games or watch a movie. Or would you rather I leave you alone?"
And then Remus had that look again, that seemed as though he was drowning, and Sirius prepared himself to be shut out without knowing why. But then again, Remus never seemed to do what he expected him to.
"I wouldn't mind some company, if that's ok," he said, before he hurried to add, "but don't feel like you have to."
Sirius smiled brightly at him. "My work schedule is fucked up anyway, so don't worry about it. Why don't you go sit on the couch? I'll get us something to drink."
While Remus nodded and sat down, Sirius went back into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. He was actually meant to be editing his last recording, even more now that he had more of a reason to do it.
He’d received Remus’ merch a few days ago, and had made a video using it for the sole purpose of imagining Remus’ face when he saw it on Padfoot’s channel. Usually, Marlene was in charge of doing the editing, but he’d asked her to let him do this one himself. He knew it was stupid, but even if Remus wouldn’t know, he wanted it to be something personal.
The eagerness to finish them tonight was almost consuming him; he was sure they would lift Remus’ spirits. But he couldn’t leave him alone right now.
The water boiled, Sirius filled two mugs with a nice aromatic tea, and, after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and walked back into the living room.
Keeping a safe distance between them, he sat on the couch next to Remus, who raised an eyebrow when Sirius placed the bottle at the table. He simply shrugged in response.
"I thought you might want some."
Remus narrowed his eyes and held his cup in both hands, but after taking two sips he seemed to think better of it and reached over to pour himself a healthy dose. He sighed when he drank next and stared ahead, his eyes getting that faraway look again. Sirius wasn’t sure he wanted to know where exactly Remus was at that moment.
He’d been wondering for a while as to what could have gotten Remus in this state. The man was usually so composed, except for those few moments Sirius had gotten a glimpse of, when he could practically see him closing up. He hated that feeling, hated not knowing how to help him or avoid those reactions.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked after a moment.
“About what?”
Sirius raised an eyebrow even though Remus was not looking at him. “You don’t seriously think I believed for a second that you were crying in the hallway because you forgot your keys, do you?”
Remus flinched but still kept his head down, avoiding his gaze, and a horrible thought occurred to him.
“I...I don’t want to assume anything,” he started, feeling a weight drop in his stomach, “but if this has anything to do with… you know, with what happened earlier then I…” he fumbled for the right words as he gestured vaguely with his hands, and finally Remus looked back with a confused expression on his face. He frowned for a second and then realisation dawned on him and he hurried to shake his head.
“No, no that’s not it. I...Something else happened and I had to leave my flat in a hurry. It’s...it’s not about that.”
His face turned to a lovely shade of pink, and Sirius had the sudden urge to cup those cheeks in his palms and feel the soft skin beneath them. He balled his hands into fists to keep himself from reaching out.
“Ok,” Sirius said, relieved but still worried. Remus seemed uncomfortable, and though Sirius had a million questions he was dying to ask, he knew it was not the time. Instead, he added some whiskey to his own tea. “Well, I’m here for you, in whichever way you need.”
Silence stretched between them, and it didn’t seem like Remus wanted to talk, so Sirius found a silly movie that could take Remus’ mind off things and they sat in companionable silence. They sipped from their spiked teas while the movie rolled, and when those were finished they moved on to straight whiskey.
He could tell Remus kept stealing glances at him, and even opened his mouth a couple times, but ended up closing it back in the end. He gave him the time he needed and waited.
“Sirius,” Remus called after a while. When Sirius glanced at him from his spot by the armrest, he found soft eyes, warm like melted caramel, trained on him. “Thank you.”
His voice was earnest and loaded with emotions that Sirius couldn’t figure out, but it sent a flutter through his stomach. He smiled fondly at this gorgeous, unpredictable man that had stumbled in his life at such a dark time. “Anytime, Rem.”
Remus' face turned almost pleading, and it was becoming physically impossible for Sirius not to get closer and pull him into his arms. Not when he was clearly upset about something and possibly a bit drunk.
No, he didn't want to do it like this.
He raked his brain for a safe topic and said the first thing that came to mind. "So, you said your classes were going well?"
Remus blinked a few times and then made a vague gesture with a hand, almost knocking the bottle in the process.
Well, he was definitely a bit drunk.
"It's great. Everyone is very nice and welcoming. And it's amazing that I got to know Lily and Natalie. Although Nat can be a bit hard to deal with," he said, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. In fact, he seemed rather fond of both girls.
Remus stretched forward to grab the bottle again, his mug tilting precariously on his leg. Sirius wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to keep drinking, so he snatched it right from his fingertips and placed both mugs on the table.
“Hey!” Remus protested.
“You're clearly ahead of me, I’m just catching up,” Sirius smiled mischievously as he gulped down, the warm liquid burning his throat, and laughed when Remus scowled at him. “Tu es mignon,” he said before he could stop himself.
Fuck. Maybe he should cut back on the alcohol too.
But Remus didn’t comment on it, just stared at Sirius with those big eyes that somehow were so much like his pet’s. And suddenly something clicked in his head.
“Oh crap. Will Cocoa be ok?” he asked Remus, who just stared. “Y’know, with you being locked out and all.” Remus continued to stare, his hand flinching the only indication that he’d heard him. Sirius raised an eyebrow and watched, alarmed, as tears started welling in Remus’ eyes. He fumbled around, flustered, wanting to hug Remus but not sure if Remus would want him to. “Ok, merde, don’t worry. Maybe I can climb over to your balcony? But I don’t think I can get in unless you left the window open…”
Remus sniffed. “My dog…”
“Fuck, wait here. Maybe I can open the door anyway, I’ll just go-” he was already stumbling out of his seat, but stopped when he felt Remus pulling at his sleeve.
“He’s not there.”
“Not there? What do you mean?”
“He-” Remus sniffed again and his breath hitched, “he’s at the clinic.”
Sirius sat down slowly, his heart beating fast. “What are you talking about?”
“I… I got back home and he… he’d found some of my chocolate, I don’t even know where he got it from.” Remus paused to take a shaky breath. Sirius could just imagine the moment, and Remus’ worry, and his heart ached for him. For both of them. “He was all… trembling and stuff. I took him to the emergency clinic straight away.”
“Is he going to be okay?” he asked as gently as he could.
“I think so. They gave him something to absorb the toxins, but he had to stay in observation just in case.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?”
Remus’ tears started falling harder; great, heaving sobs shaking his body. He was a wreck, eyes swollen, wet tracks down his red cheeks, and Sirius couldn’t help it anymore. He took Remus’ hand, who held on as though that was the only thing keeping him together.
“But I left him alone at the hospital! When I found him chained to that tree, I promised I would take care of him, that I wouldn’t abandon him just like his old owners had. Just like I was ditched too. And I just left him there!”
Sirius started at that. What did he mean ‘he was ditched’? Every new detail about Remus’ past that came to light felt like having his vision go clearer and darker at the same time. Some questions were answered, but a lot more appeared that were worse than the ones before. He didn’t understand why Remus’ mum or Leo hadn’t been at the hospital with him, or exactly why he’d been stuck in bed in the first place. But he knew it was still hard on Remus. He could only imagine what leaving Cocoa at the clinic would have done to him.
“It’s my fault he ate the chocolate in the first place…”
“Oh no, we’re not going to do that. This is not your fault.”
“But he almost died,” he said, with his head bowed in shame.
Sirius scooted closer and held Remus’ tighter, while he used his free hand to wipe the other man’s tears with his thumb, first on one cheek and then the other. He pressed his palm against Remus’ cheek and locked eyes with him.
"Remus, the way you reacted is probably what saved his life. That dog loves you, anyone can tell, and I know you would never do anything that would hurt him. Cocoa is going to be fine."
Remus’ breath hitched again as he leant into the touch.
"How do you know?" he asked helplessly.
Sirius smiled softly at him. "’Cause he's a fighter just like you are."
It was small, but slowly, an actual, genuine smile spread across Remus’ face, looking at Sirius as if he was seeing him for the first time, and Sirius felt his world stop.
It didn’t feel like the sun was rising after the longest night. It was more like coming up for air after being underwater without even knowing it. It was melting every barrier he’d ever built. It was wishing he could see that smile every day, because if Remus smiled like that, then everything was a little bit better.
Before he could get his mind riled up about how deeply enthralled by the man he was and the panicking that would ensue, Remus yawned.
"C'mon, let's get you to bed."
Stretching his arms over his head, Sirius stood up and turned the TV off. Remus tried to follow but stumbled over his feet and would have crashed over the table if Sirius hadn't caught him in time, draping a hand around his middle.
"Oops," Remus chuckled, and Sirius inwardly winced at how adorable he was.
He put an arm under his shoulders and helped him to his room, not bothering to turn on the light. He opened the bed covers for him, and guided him down; Remus’ eyes were halfway closed even when he was still sitting, and Sirius had to force himself to turn around and leave, but just as he did, long fingers slid into his hand, holding on to him.
“Don’t go,” Remus whispered, his eyes now on Sirius’.
What was he meant to do about that? They were both drunk, Remus had been through a lot, and he didn’t want it to look like he was taking advantage of his state.
“It’s ok, I’ll be in the room next door if you need anything,” he assured him. He tried to get Remus to lie down, but he held on to his hand and didn’t let go.
“I can play you some rain sounds?” he offered, a bit desperate, not quite thinking straight as the alcohol was making him a bit dizzy. Or maybe that was just the effect Remus had on him.
“No, you,” Remus pouted, tugging at his arm.
Sirius wanted to. He really, really wanted to lie down with him, tuck him close and hold on for dear life. But it didn’t feel right, Remus might not want the same thing if the circumstances were different.
“Please? I don’t want to be alone.”
The conflict in his mind dimmed and he sighed, defeated, ‘cause there was no way Sirius could say no to that.
Please, don’t regret this tomorrow.
He nodded, and Remus smiled and let Sirius tuck him into bed with the blankets up to his chin. Sirius removed his shoes and went to the other side of the bed, lying on his side on top of the covers.
Remus turned on his side as well, and then they were face to face with just a few inches between them. It was dark, but not dark enough that Sirius couldn’t see Remus’ face, his soft curls, the freckles over the bridge of his nose, those beautiful honey eyes, the curve of his lips...
How the fuck was he supposed to sleep with him right there?
It would be impossible. All he could think about was how only a few hours earlier they’d also been this close to each other, how their breaths had entwined, driving him mad. He’d been so sure that Remus was about to kiss him. And he’d wanted him to, fuck, he wanted it so badly. The need to be closer was becoming unbearable.
But maybe it was all just wishful thinking, considering the way Remus had ran from him.
He hadn’t realised he was still staring at Remus’ lips until they moved, just barely, to whisper almost inaudibly.
"Goodnight, Sirius."
When he looked up, Remus’ eyes were already closed, and a few seconds later the sound of slow, even breathing filled the room.
Sirius watched him sleep for a while; his face finally relaxed and more open than it’d been all night. Stretching slightly forward, he tilted his chin up to press a soft kiss on Remus’ forehead.
"Goodnight, Re."
#wolfstar fic#my one in a million#My writing#fanfic#Remus Lupin#Sirius Black#remus x sirius#Sirius x Remus#wolfstar
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
Demon Alya submission (starts off angsty, gets fluffy at the end) made by Anon
Alya hissed with pain and strained to get up, but the magic sigils which had been chalked around her blazed with a strange pale light and her body slammed back to the hard cement floor. Her tail lashed back and forth wildly, hard enough that it hurt when its tip smacked against the wall, and her wings beat futilely to break out of the iron bindings that bent then flat against her back. “You sure we can’t work this out?” she asked in the best ‘temptation’ voice she could muster despite her pain. “I can give you power, wealth, fame…”
“I need no fame, demon scum,” boomed the exorcist who had bound her. He was an older man whose hair was going silver and who wore what looked like a cross between a priest’s cassock and a military uniform. He had a sword at his side whose blade was carved with holy sigils, and a few other exorcist accoutrements hung off his belt. Now he raised a book high while his eyes, which seemed almost to be trying to bulge out of his head, fixated on her. “All I need is the knowledge that you shall be destroyed forever, as God intended!”
Alya bit back a curse. She was still mad at herself for letting this guy get the jump on her, but by the time she’d realized that she was being followed, he was close enough to use some kind of magic spell to make her pass out. She’d awoken in what looked like a cheap basement, with a cement floor and bare plaster on the walls, and with sigils and iron bonds preventing her from escaping. “You can’t destroy me forever,” she snapped. “You might be able to banish me back to Hell, but I’ll be back on Earth eventually.”
Of course, that wasn’t a great scenario for Alya. Not only would she get in trouble for losing a fight with an exorcist, and not only would she fall behind on her soul quota, but her classmates wouldn’t know where she’d gone. It would be just like she’d abandoned them. And Alya couldn’t bear to think of how sad Juleka would be if Alya cut and run, or the rest of her cult, or… or Marinette. Alya knew Marinette would be devastated, and she desperately wanted that not to happen, but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.
Then the man laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little depraved beast? You’d love to be able to turn and wreck havoc once more. But I’ve found a way around it!” He tossed a little voodoo doll next to Alya. “I will bind your spiritual essence to this doll, then burn it. As the doll crumbles in the flame your spiritual essence will be split asunder. When I’m done you’ll be little more than millions of tiny bits of demon, each tied to a tiny bit of ash, and that ash scattered to the winds.” He grinned. “It could take thousands of years for the bindings to weaken enough for you to reconstitute yourself and even begin trying to regain a corporal form. And seeing as how you’ll be in utter agony the entire time, I highly doubt you’ll be sane enough to tempt any more innocents into your clutches!”
Alya gasped. What the man proposed might actually work, and would subject her to millennia of torture. And worse than that… by the time she put herself back together, her classmates would have been dead for millennia. She’d never see them again unless they went to Hell. And she’d never see Marinette, period, because that girl was so pure she’d surely get rushed right to Heaven the moment she died.
She’d never see her best friend again.
“You can’t do this!” Alya said, almost ashamed of how terrified her voice was but not being able to help it. “Please!”
“Silence, demon scum,” said the exorcist. “All your kind deserve this.” He began to chant, and Alya cried out in pain as she felt her essence being pulled towards the doll. She tried to fight it—
And then the door to the basement smashed open.
By the time Alya realized what was happening, she saw Rose—holding a flaming sword, wings spread to their full length, halo blazing such a righteous fire above her head that Alya could barely look at it—looming over the man, whom had been knocked into the wall and slid down. “YOU DON’T DO THIS!” screamed Rose in genuine rage. “EVER!”
The man stared at Rose in terrified shock. Rose glared at him, then turned to Alya and swung her sword at the sigils. They burst into a bright flash of light and vanished as soon as her holy blade touched them, and Alya was able to scrambled out of the former circle. A couple quick, careful strokes of Rose’s sword sliced the iron bindings from Alya’s back, and she sighed with relief as she stretched her wings.
“What are you doing?“ the man demanded. “Don’t free her! You are an angel, you must support our battles against demons. They are evil beasts who tempt others, so it is right that we hurt them! That we banish them and make them suffer all the pain they have inflicted—“
“IT IS NOT YOURS TO JUDGE!” screamed Rose loud enough that the man flinched back. She took an angry breath and said, “If a demon is doing something bad, then it is permissible to oppose that demon. I have opposed demons who were about to hurt or damn someone. But Alya was doing nothing, and even if she was, ‘opposing’ does not mean ‘torturing!’” She took a step closer and raised her sword. “The job of a holy warrior is never to inflict pain for the sake of doing so! To never do more damage than necessary to fight evil, to always show mercy where possible and encourage others to repent!” The fire on her blade blazed higher. “YOU ARE NO PALADIN!” she went on, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “YOU ARE JUST A KILLER, AND—“
Alya hesitated, feeling on one hand that she really wanted to see this guy get absolutely thrashed by Rose, but knowing on the other she had an obligation to her friend. “Woah, woah, hold it,” said Alya as she quickly grabbed Rose’s hand to stop her from stabbing the exorcist. “He’s defeated, okay? You don’t need to kill him.”
“But he tried to kill you!” Rose said through teary-eyes. “You’re one of my best friends—“
“And I’m here to remind you that the stuff you said about you guys not being supposed to do more damage than needed applies to you too.” Alya bit her lip and looked at the exorcist who was now trembling with fear, his glee at his earlier successful tortures of Alya having seemingly already been forgotten. “Look, Rose, even if you can get away with killing the guy and not Fall or be stripped of your angelic status, you’ll still hate yourself for it tomorrow.”
The exorcist stared at Alya with bewildered eyes. “You are a demon!” he rasped. “You want her to Fall! I know it! All demons want angels to Fall!”
Alya frowned. “She’s my friend,” she snapped. “That’s more important the feud between our bosses.”
Rose was still standing with her blade raised. “But he hurt you,” she whispered. “You’re wonderful, and he hurt you, and I can’t just let that go.”
“Who said anything about letting it go?” Alya said. “Like, he tried to torture me to death. That’s really evil, so I’m pretty sure his soul’ll go to us when he dies, and that means we’ll have all eternity to get back at him.” Unless he repented and went to Heaven in the end, Alya thought, and if he did… well, that would be a bummer. She really wanted to get her claws at this guy. But she’d rather let this guy have that chance than have Rose kill him right there and suffer regret for it every day after for all her eternal life. “And even setting that aside, I can get the guy in jail with my Whisper powers. That way we know he can’t hurt anyone else.”
Rose was still hesitating, so Alya gently helped her lower the sword. “He’s not worth it,” she said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Finally, still trembling with rage and sorrow, Rose let Alya escort her out of the basement.
###
It only took Alya about ten minutes to jail the guy. She was quite skilled with Whisper, the power of demons to, well, whisper evil or hurtful thoughts into the minds of unsuspecting mortals. During her training she had learned how to convince humans that everyone hated them and was only pretending to befriend them out of pity, or that their spouse was cheating on them, or that—whatever the priest at church said—they really had done something beyond forgiveness and so might as well go forth and sin some more.
Now, though, Alya used that power to Whisper into the fanatic’s head. “There are demons everywhere!” she whispered. “In that trash can! On that curb! On top of that police car! If you don’t fight them, they’ll destroy Paris!”
The fanatic raved and ran around, swinging his sword wildly at the demons his mind convinced him were all around him. That, of course, led to police officers swarming and tackling him. Alya smiled as she watched Roger Raincomprix bundle him into his police car and take him away, saying something about asylums and institutionalization. “He won’t be bothering anyone ever again,” she said. Then she turned to Rose. “How did you find me?”
“You didn’t show up for that thing you were doing with Juleka,” Rose said. Both girls were hiding their spiritual forms and looked fully human, but Alya got the sense that if Rose’s wings had been visible they would have been curling around her like a cocoon. “She got worried and used a spell from your library to track you down. I was closer so I got to your first, but she’ll probably be here soon too.”
“I should text her to let her know I’m alright,” Alya noted. She took her phone, which the fanatic had left in a corner of the basement and which Alya had reclaimed, and sent a message to Juleka. “Want to get home?”
Rose nodded weakly.
Alya frowned. “Don’t beat yourself up over losing your temper,” she said. “It happens to all of us.”
“Sure.” Rose shrugged. “Uh huh.”
Alya paused. Clearly, she thought, Rose needed more help. And now that Alya was out of her bonds and was back in action, she was just the girl to help her. “Anyways, I’m going back to my place, and you’re coming too,” she announced.
Rose blinked. “Wait, what?”
“I said, we’re going to my place,” Alya announced. “Come on, Rose. You saved my life and I owe you one. Let’s get going.”
Rose clearly didn’t know what was going on, but she smiled a little and let herself be dragged along.
###
When the pair got back to Alya’s apartment, they dropped their guises and Alya sighed as she flopped back in her bed. “I never thought I’d see this bed again,” she murmured. “I didn’t think I’d see you, or Juleka, or… or Marinette again either.” She shut her eyes, knowing how badly she would have been hurt to never see the adorable fashion designer, and also knowing how much pain Marinette would have been in if Alya had just vanished. “Thank you again, Rose.”
Rose nodded weakly.
Alya got Rose over to the couch and settled down with her. “Why are you still sad?” she asked.
Rose hesitated, and Alya said, “If you don’t want to share it with me, that’s fine. We can just rest here; I’ll put on some cartoons or something until we both feel better. But if you’re sad, you can talk to me.”
It took a few moments for Rose to say something, during which time she slumped over and snuggled against Alya. One of her wings tickled Alya’s nose and she sneezed, which made Rose giggle. Then Rose cuddled deeper against Alya and said, “Am I a bad angel?”
“No way!” Alya said. “You’re awesome at what you do, and I’m saying that even though what you do makes it harder to me to tempt souls a lot of the time.”
Rose smiled at that. “But I almost didn’t save you,” she said. “And I almost murdered that guy after he was already defeated.”
“You did save me in the end, which is what counts,” Alya said. “You did your job. And while you got mad at the fanatic, you didn’t kill him.” She paused. “We’ve never had an all-out fight, so I can’t say for sure what would have happened if you’d tried to break my grip and kill the guy, but based on what I know of you I think you could probably have thrown me aside and killed the fanatic if you really wanted to do so. You didn’t, so you knew on some level killing him was wrong.”
“Right, but I still want him to suffer for what he did to you,” said Rose. “And I’m not supposed to. Angels aren’t supposed to hate, even when we’re fighting evil.”
“I’m not exactly an expert on what you guys believe,” Alya said slowly. “Since we demons and devils have a different system. But I think I read somewhere that your boss is really big on forgiveness and understands that everyone screws up sometimes. I don’t think He’d want you beating yourself up like this, and I think He’d be satisfied with how you saved the victim—me—and didn’t do any more damage to the guy once he wasn’t a threat anymore.”
Rose mulled that over for a few moments. “You really think so?”
“Sure,” said Alya. “Besides, any God who would get mad at you over—what, yelling a bit after stopping a torturer?—wouldn’t be a God worth worshipping.”
“Don’t say that about God,” murmured Rose, but she sounded a lot calmer. “That makes sense, though. Thanks, Alya.”
“Happy to help.” Alya gingerly scratched at the base of Rose’s wings, and she sighed in contentment.
“You know,” said Rose after a few moments of that, “You’d make a good angel.”
Alya jolted in shock at that, and Rose laughed. “Don’t say that!” Alya feebly protested. “Seriously, I—I would not want that job. I don’t like the idea that I’d have to be nice all the time because my boss demanded it. I like what I am, where I have the freedom to be how I want.” She realized she was blushing and tried to make herself stop. “Besides, I’m not that nice in general,” she went on. “You’re an exception.”
“Nah,” said Rose. “You’re nice. If you wanted to be an angel you’d be great at it.” She chuckled, and then she asked, “But I’m curious about one thing. That guy said that demons want angels to Fall, but you worked really hard to stop me from Falling today. Was that just because we’re friends, or do you oppose angels falling in general?”
Alya didn’t know why, but she was blushing again. “Uh,” she began. “Look, I’m all about freedom. That’s why I like my side of things in the first place. I think you should have freedom too, and if I thought you really, truly wanted to Fall, then I would offer my help to you—you know, finding some sin for you to commit that wouldn’t do anything too bad or hurt anyone you didn’t want to suffer—so you could live as you wished. But I know you, and I know that in your heart you don’t want to do anything so bad that you Fall. You like being a holy angel warrior for God. You love being able to spread blessings and help usher souls into eternal bliss. And if that’s your choice, I want to help you maintain it. Because we’re friends.”
The idea of friendship was still a new one to Alya, who of course came from a place where there was no such thing as friendship, where everyone was out for themselves and anyone dumb enough to admit to weakness would find that weakness mercilessly exploited by classmates, neighbors, and random strangers. But now that she was in the human world, she had friends, and she found that she liked it. (Granted, she had to keep her friendships hidden from her bosses—especially her friendship with Rose—but she was a demon and deceit came naturally to her, so that wasn’t too hard.)
Rose smiled gently. “I’m glad we’re friends,” she said.
The two stayed still for a few moments before Rose reluctantly raised herself up. “I guess I should go,” she said. “I’m sure you and Juleka need to do whatever you were planning on doing before you got abducted.”
“We were just planning on watching some fun anime and having some snacks,” said Alya. Then, as if on cue, she heard a knock on the door and grinned. “It’s open!” she called. Then she turned to Rose and said, “When I texted her earlier, I told her to get back to my place so we could resume our plans. That must be her now.”
Rose tried to get up, but Alya wrapped her tail around Rose and tugged her back down. “I don’t want to get in the way,” Rose said quickly. “I’ll leave.”
“No, you’ll join us,” corrected Alya. “Because this is my room, so I can invite who I want, and I want you here. Because this is my cult, so Juleka has to do what I say, and I say you get to stay.” Her eyes twinkled. “And because I know you and Juleka love spending time together, and so since you also had kind of a rough day, a little time with your favorite paladin and my favorite priestess is just what Dr. Alya ordered.”
Rose grinned at that.
Then Juleka entered the room carrying a bag. As soon as her gaze fell upon Rose she smiled brightly, and Rose returned that smile. “Alright,” Juleka said. “I’ve got the DVD for that anime you told me to find, ‘Kill La Kill,’ and your snacks.” She took some cups out of the bag. “Three hot chocolates—one with cinnamon, because I know that’s your favorite, Rose—some microwave popcorn, and pastries from the Dupain-Cheng bakery.” She paused. “Marinette told me she’ll be free in an hour or so. Would you want me to invite her?”
“Sure!” said Alya at once. She’d have to hide her demon form once Marinette arrived, of course, but it would be worth it to hang out with the fashion designer. Marinette always seemed to brighten up any room. “And thanks for helping Rose save me with the tracking spell. I owe you one.”
Juleka waved that off. “It’s a friend thing,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”
Such a sentence was something Alya would never, ever have heard in the demon world. Debts there were jealously maintained. But she liked this way, she found… even if she did intend on finding some way to reward Juleka for saving her life. “Sure,” she said to change the subject. “But I still appreciate it. Anyway, what kind of pastries did you get?”
“Angel food cake for Rose, lemon cake for me, and chili-chocolate cake for you,” said Juleka as she passed out the treats. Rose sniffed her cake and sighed at how wonderful it smelled. “I’ll pop in the DVD and then we can start the show.”
Juleka did so and then sat on Rose’s other side. Rose grinned and spread her wings wide enough to give partial hugs to both Alya and Juleka, and Alya’s tail flicked a bit before running against the other two girls’ backs. Rose giggled. “That tickles!” she said.
“Sorry,” drawled Alya. She bit into the delicious cake and grinned. Chili and chocolate was a hard combination to get right, but the Dupain-Cheng family were masters, and the cake was absolutely perfect. “My bad.”
“You’re not sorry,” said Juleka lightly. “That’s a lie.”
“Well, lying’s a sin,” chirped Alya. “And as a demon, that’s kind of my thing.”
Both of the other girls laughed, and then Rose draped her arms as well as her wings around the other two. Juleka hit the button on the remote and the show started.
Alya sighed, her pains from earlier almost completely forgotten as she relaxed with her friends. The human world was good, she thought. She was very glad she hadn’t been kicked out of it. And she’d try to stay in it—and be with the people she cared about, including the wonderful angel and the amazing human currently sitting on her couch—for as long as she could.
———
AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL
GO ROSE
I like how its been decided that between Rose and Alya theres a bad cop and good cop dynamic going on
Alya is the good cop
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Beyond the Sea of Pain
Day 3 of Jeankasa Week 2021: Family
AO3
A peaceful life for the girl who longed for love and the boy who gave her it.
Sasha Ackerman had never been one to pry. She carried her mother’s quiet, observant personality, or so her father said. Whenever conversations became for adults only, she excused herself, she never asked too many questions unless it was something that involved her loved ones.
Lately, Sasha had begun asking more questions, simply because most matters revolved around her mother, her mother and the child she carried. At seven years of age, Sasha knew a new baby implied many changes for the family. Both for her parents, and for her. Her whole life, everyone around her had gone to great lengths to make her happy, make her feel loved, and above all, to keep her safe.
All she was surrounded by were protectors: her grandmother who had taught her how to make the omelets her dad liked, uncle Armin and aunt Annie who came to visit the island with hundreds of presents each time, uncle Connie who bought her ice cream and candies whenever he babysat her, and uncle Levi with his perpetual frowns.
This would be the first time she had someone smaller than her, someone to take care of, someone to protect. Her mom had said in conversations she wanted three children, so Sasha had always known that sooner or later she would be the head of a triad of Ackerman children. She would be the eldest sister.
“Sasha, help me, please,” her mother called from the door. She was almost seven months in her pregnancy and still carried out her daily routine as usual. Her father had gotten angry at the beginning, when he caught her carrying things from the market on her own. But her mom was strong, stronger than her father even, and each time she had reassured him with a sweet smile that she could handle herself.
Sasha didn’t want to imagine the level of anxiety in her father during their first pregnancy.
“Where’s dad?” Her mother asked as they laid out the market bags on the kitchen counter. The queen of the island had given her parents a beautiful apartment in the new Shingashina district years ago, for helping bring peace to the world, although her mom always joked that all she and her father had done was work numbers in a library.
“He’s finishing up the baby’s room.” Sasha informed her mother, smiling at the sight of the chocolate biscuits she had bought for her. Her father always said that perhaps names came with traits. And Sasha had certainly inherited her namesake’s appetite.
“Have you helped?” Her mother asked, putting both hands on her waist. “He was up all night setting that crib. Did you paint with him?”
Sasha shook her head. “Dad didn’t let me.”
Her mother sighed. “That man needs to let other people help him.”
“Are you mad at him?” Sasha asked, kind of hoping she was. She had really wanted to help him paint the new baby’s room.
“I don’t think I can get mad at him,” her mother said, smiling as she wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Sasha put her hand on her mother’s belly, drawing in a breath in awe as she felt the baby moving. “The baby know it’s you saying hi. They’re saying hi back to you, you know.”
“Does the baby like me already?”
“The baby loves you, sweetheart.” Her mother replied, placing a kiss on her forehead. Sasha took a hold of her mother’s right arm, her fingers lingering on the ink markings on her wrists, the tattoo that had always been covered by bandages in the pictures from her time in the military.
“Mama, when am I going to get this?” she asked. A crease appeared between her eyebrows then, and for a moment, Sasha feared to have upset her. Her mother crouched to be at her height, with surprising grace despite her advanced pregnancy, and ran her thumb over her cheek.
“My mother gave it to me years ago. She said I had to pass it down to my children,” she said, her hand holding Sasha’s, which still lingered on the ink markings of her skin. “But back then, the world was smaller, honey. We thought this crest was the only thing we had left of our heritage when it wasn’t. There was a whole country beyond the island, and a huge clan with the same emblem and people who shared our blood.”
“That means I can’t get this marking?” Sasha said, feeling a little disappointed. Despite having her mother’s dark hair, she’d inherited her father’s structure; at her age, she was taller than most kids at school, and her eyes were of the same hazel as her father’s. The tattoo would’ve given her another thing in common with her mother, another thing to share that was just theirs.
Her mother seemed to notice the change in her expression, and she cradled her face with one hand. “You can decide to get it or not when you’re older. You’re still going to be my sweet little girl, whether you get it or not,” she said, kissing her cheek. “But I didn’t want to mark you with the emblem, at least not offer it until you became old enough to decide for yourself.”
“I wanted it to remember you,” Sasha replied shyly. “This is how you remember grandma, right?”
Her mother smiled, bringing her closer to embrace her. “You’ll be able to remember me in many, many more ways, Sasha darling,” she said, pulling her apart to face her before she continued speaking. “First of all, your dad and I are going to live for a long, long time. We’re going to take a million pictures, and your dad is going paint a thousand portraits of us. And when those are wrinkled and old, and you’re wrinkled and old, you’re still going to remember our love for you. Because you, dad, the baby, and I are going to live long lives together, okay? We’ll make memories together.”
Sasha nodded, wondering why her mother’s speech had filled her eyes with water. She passed a chubby hand across her face. “I love you, mama,” she said, hugging her again. “I swear, I’ll protect you and dad forever.”
“I love you so much, honey.” Her mother said. Her father always told her she didn’t need to protect them, but it seemed her mother understood her personality a little more in that regard. She understood that drive to protect and remember her loved ones, perhaps because Sasha was much like her.
“Want to go see how dad is doing with the room?” her mother said after a moment, with her usual smile.
Sasha held her mother’s hand as they walked to the baby’s room. The apartment would be small with another child. Their house would be finished in ten months; it had taken a while for his father to convince queen Historia to sell them that land by the river, and a little while longer for them to get all their financing for the house from Hizuru. Her mother had friends there, although Sasha had never met them in person. They would eventually move, Sasha was sure, but in the meantime, dad wanted to make their apartment as child friendly as possible.
“Hello, dad,” her mother said, knocking on the door threshold. They found him finishing up the far wall, the one next to the window. Sasha stared at the paintings on the walls, realizing why her father hadn’t let her help. She would’ve ruined the landscape he’d painted so thoroughly across the walls: it was their summer meadow, the one by the river, the place where they went most weekends to fish and eat and sing. The place that would be their new home in ten months.
Her father turned to look at them with a wide smile on his face. He was tall, taller than most, and had long hair and a stubble on his chin that itched when he kissed her cheeks. “Hello, darling,” her father said, walking up to her mother to give her a kiss on the lips. Then, he gave Sasha a kiss on the forehead. “Hello, little darling.”
And then, her father kissed her mother’s pregnant belly. “Hello, tiny darling.”
Her mother gave him one of those adoring smiles Sasha loved to see. Her mother was beautiful, the most beautiful woman ever, and when she smiled like that, Sasha almost thought she was looking at a doll. It was a look reserved only for dad; it had always seemed her eyes were full of sunlight when looking at him. “Jean, you shouldn’t have done all this.”
“What do you mean?” her dad asked. “Do you not like it.”
“I love it, honey. I absolutely adore it,” she said, grabbing his face to kiss his cheek. “But we’re moving at the end of the year, and you’ve barely slept…”
“You know I like doing this,” her father replied. “Besides, it’s so the baby can get used to the scenery before we get there.”
A low giggle escaped her mother. “Also, Sasha wanted to help you here.”
“She’s a kid, Mika. It was a lot of crouching, a lot of tracing, too much smell of paint,” he said, giving her mother another kiss. He was never shy about showing his love, but the closer she got to the end of the pregnancy, the more did her father kiss her. Sometimes it felt as if he kissed her every second of the day. “I didn’t want her to get all tired.”
“She’s strong, Jean,” her mom replied, smiling still. “She can help you out when I’m not here.”
“I’m sure she’s as strong as her mother,” he said, bending to kiss Sashas’s cheek and then her forehead. “I’m sorry, okay, little darling? I promise you’ll help with the next baby room.”
“Let me have this one first.” Her mom said with a low giggle. “Will you, lover boy?”
“I waited seven years for our second one, didn’t I?” Her father teased.
“Let’s not pretend you haven’t been trying for another one the past seven years, Kirstein.”
“You know I love trying for one, Ackerman.”
Sasha walked over to his set of paints, her eyes on the mixture of colors but her ears on their banter. She liked watching them go about life together; there was such an easy happiness between them, an easy, almost-perfect happiness that could only come from the love they had for each other. A love they poured onto her, a love that filled Sasha with happiness.
Sometimes, when she saw her mother smile at her father, she could barely believe she was the same woman as the one in the pictures from her days in the military. The woman in the pictures was stoic, untouchable, a perfect figure of strength, a statue with the sadness in her eyes as her most defining quality. Her mother, the Mikasa Ackerman Sasha knew, was all smiles, kisses, and kind words; she was low conversations about butterflies, she was warm hugs after a day at school, she was adoring looks for her father when he cooked dinner.
It’s not that her mom didn’t get sad every now and then. Of course, whenever they visited the graveyard where her namesake rested, or when she and her father spoke of the past in hushed whispers in the living room. But still, sadness was not all of her. Her mother had turned into sunlight, that’s the only way Sasha could describe it.
“Why are you frowning, sweetie?” Her father asked.
“You two are being corny again,” Sasha replied. “You’re doing your kissy faces.”
Her mother and father exchanged a look and a smile, and soon her father had lifted her into his arms. “Mikasa, we just made little Sasha jealous,” he said as he twirled her around. It didn’t take long for Sasha to start giggling. “She wants all the kisses to herself!”
“You are too corny! Your beard is itchy!” Sasha laughed. “Mom, help!”
Her mom took her from her father’s arms and gave her a thousand kisses on her cheeks and forehead in the lapse of a second. “All the kisses must be for my sweet little girl,” her mother teased. Her father took her back in his arms, not wanting her to carry Sasha’s full weight so far into the pregnancy. “She deserves them, don’t you think, Jean?”
“Yes, she does,” her dad agreed. “She is the best older sister in all of Paradis. Your little brother already adores you.”
“Or little sister.” Her mother said, giving Sasha another kiss and leaning into her dad to get a peck on the cheek from him.
“Or little sister.” Her dad agreed.
“When do we know?” Sasha asked. “When do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“We need to wait until baby’s born,” her dad explained, using the paint on his thumb to draw a little white star on her cheek. “It won’t take long. We need to be really careful with mommy until the baby’s born, and then some more after.”
“Mommy is top priority,” Sasha agreed, nodding seriously. “Then after the birth, mom and baby will be top priority.”
Her dad chuckled and looked at her mom. “She really does take after you, doesn’t she, Mikasa?”
“I’d say she takes after you,” her mother said, tucking a strand of hair behind Sasha’s ear. “All that concern for my well-being could’ve only come from you.”
“How are we going to name the baby?” Sasha asked then.
“If it’s a girl, we’ve decided it’ll be Carla, right?” Her dad said, and her mother nodded.
“And if it’s a boy?” Sasha asked. Her father exchanged a look with her mother, both at a loss from her question. Sasha figured they hadn’t considered the possibility of having a boy, and the matter of a name for a boy hadn’t come up until now. She shook her head in exasperation; Aunt Annie called them a pair of idiots and although Sasha would never truly consider them a pair of idiots, she could see why she’d granted them that nickname.
“How about dinner?” Her mother said.
“I’ll get to it.” Her father said, kissing her mother again.
Her mother crossed her arms over her chest and let out an exasperated sigh. “Jean, let us help you. Honey, nothing bad will happen to me. I can make dinner for three.”
“I’m sorry,” her father said, frowning, cradling her mother’s face in his hand. “You’re just so pretty. And I can’t believe you’re carrying our child sometimes. I don’t want you to lift a finger, I don’t want to risk you at all, Mikasa.”
“Jean,” her mother said, placing a kiss on his lips. “I love you and I promise I’ll be fine, alright?”
Her dad nodded. “I love you too, Mika.”
“You two are too corny,” Sasha said, jumping from her father’s arms and walking towards the kitchen. “I’ll just eat biscuits while you kiss.”
“Sasha, wait!” Her mother said.
“Young lady, do not fill up before dinner.” Her father called.
Sasha smiled for herself as they followed her into the kitchen. Part of her felt a little bad for interrupting, but if they’d kept being all lovey with each other, dinner would have taken ages. And Sasha cared more about her appetite than letting those two be lovey-dovey. Besides, those biscuits did smell great.
__________________________
It wasn’t until Sasha had gone to bed that Mikasa had the time to sort through the clothes for the new baby. Some had been sent by Levi and Armin, alongside letters promising to visit them after the baby came to help Jean with the house. Some had been made by her own hands; she’d learned knitting from her mother when she was a child, but she hadn’t gotten back to it until she’d met Jean’s mom. All the socks had been knitted by Jean, a fact of which he was proud about.
Mikasa smiled to herself. Of all the things he’d done for her, for them as a family, his biggest pride was that he’d managed to have time to knit a couple dozen pair of baby socks.
“We got a package from Hizuru this morning,” Jean informed her as he walked towards her across the hallway. “Who gives a baby a golden reliquary necklace?”
“Really rich royals.” She said, turning to look at him.
Jean made a disgusted sound as he sat next to her. He leaned his back against the couch and stretched, and Mikasa’s eyes were drawn to the muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. “Alright, that’s Sasha back asleep.”
“Was it a bad nightmare?”
Jean shook his head. “She keeps dreaming a giant baby’s chasing her.”
Mikasa snorted. “She’s just like you were when she was going to be born.”
“Hey, I wasn’t that nervous. I was just excited.” Jean said, grabbing her gently and bringing her close to his side. Mikasa hugged him, resting her head on his chest for a long moment. She took in a deep breath, enjoying the scent of him, thankful for the constant beat of his heart, for his presence, for his immense love.
Her life had been quiet grief up until the moment they’d returned to the island. She’d never thought she would love anyone ever again as much as she’d loved Eren.
But, apparently, she’d been wrong.
The growth of her love for him had been the thawing of her life, slow but inevitable, leading surely towards what seemed to be an eternal spring. Her constricted heart had gotten used to his presence little by little after his return; in the deep darkness that the rumbling had left her in, Jean had offered his hand to her, and they’d spent peaceful, quiet, love-filled days together.
Their friends had been there for her, but it was his presence, their conversations, their time in silence together, what she came to enjoy the most, what she looked forward to. Soon after, she noticed his appearance, that stirring he caused in her chest. And next thing she knew, Mikasa had been looking at him with the same loving eyes as she’d looked at her first love.
She’d fallen without trying, without expecting to, but she’d fallen irrevocably. And now she couldn’t imagine her life without him, without his kind, gentle presence by her side, always so certain she had the answer to any issue, always so confident in her strength.
The fire, the hatred that had fueled her first love was nonexistent in him; Jean was peace, spring, he was the promise that the world could be rebuilt after being ablaze. And she loved him; she loved all of him, and the fact that he’d given her a child –two, now– had only deepened her love for him. She didn’t regret her past; she didn’t fear the horrible memories, not with him by her side.
“About the name if it’s a boy,” Mikasa said, looking up at him. “I was thinking Marco.”
Jean raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I was thinking Eren.”
Now, it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. Just as he knew how much Eren had meant for her, Mikasa knew how much Marco had meant for him. “But I thought you would’ve wanted to honor him, because of your history together and—”
“I thought the same.” Jean said, brushing her hair back. He liked her hair; on their wedding night, he’d told her about how his crush on her had started, and Mikasa still liked hearing the story every now and then. “I thought you would’ve wanted to have a child with his name.”
“I thought you would’ve wanted to have a child with his name.”
Jean smiled again. “Well, great minds think alike, don’t they?”
“Jean,” Mikasa said seriously. “You’ve done so much for us already. If you were to pick the name, I don’t want you to pick one just because you think that’s what I want.”
“And I don’t want you to think I do all the things I do just to pick a name.”
Mikasa shook her head. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know. Come here.” Jean said. Mikasa finished closing the gap and their lips met. And, like every other time, her chest filled with warmth. She was drawn to him like a magnet was to metal; the comfort his skin offered was unparalleled by anything else she’d ever felt. True, she always teased that he’d been the one to try over and over again for a second child. But, in truth, the one who always seemed to want him on her was Mikasa herself.
“I still think Eren has a good ring to it.” Jean said after a while.
“He’s gonna get teased in school.” Mikasa said, thoughtfully. “What if he travels out of the island, Jean? People out of here don’t like that name. Have you given that idea any thought?”
“Maybe we could call him Aaron or something.”
Mikasa snorted. “You’re silly.”
“And you are gorgeous.” Jean said, kissing the side of her head.
“I still like Marco better for a name.” Mikasa admitted, wrapping both arms around his neck.
“Ah, are you trying to seduce me to get me to agree?” Jean said, placing kisses along her neck, reaching the curve of her ear to whisper hoarsely. “Because it’s going to work wonders, and you know that, Mrs. Ackerman.”
“I’m not,” Mikasa giggled, letting him kiss her neck and chest a little longer. “I just think we need to make up our minds soon. It might be a boy, you know?”
“Why do I feel we won’t make up our minds?” Jean said, his hands searching for the buttons of her shirt.
“I have the same feeling.” Mikasa whispered back, working on the buttons of his shirt as well.
“Well, then, in that case I guess we have only one option.”
“Which is?” Mikasa said, straightening to look at him in the eyes. She enjoyed looking at his hazel eyes; she adored seeing his overflowing love for her in them. Once she’d started to recognize it, she hadn’t been able to keep herself from looking for it.
Jean smiled. “We hope for a girl.”
“Or twins,” Mikasa said as he resumed kissing her lips.
“Or twins.” Jean agreed, kissing her a little more.
“I love you, Jean.” She whispered, going to his ear to kiss him.
“I love you too, Mikasa.”
_______________________
Sasha brought out the tray and smiled proudly at the cookies. They all had perfect shapes, just as she wanted them. The clock on the wall told her she had a couple of hours to decorate and place all the snacks out on the table; her husband said he would be getting everyone from the airport, which was a whole hour and a half away from their small town, and her brother and sister would prepare everything in the garden for the party.
As the eldest sister, she’d always been the one to boss them around, to help them sort out their problems and protect them from whoever tried to bully them. However, the past four years, Marco and Carla (or Charlie, how Sasha liked to call her since her birth, twenty five years ago) had become more than helpful for the little matters she and her husband didn’t notice.
It’s not that they were fools, no. It’s just that they’d been prepared for one child only.
Little footsteps resonated across the hall, and Sasha smiled knowingly as the twins appeared, holding hands as usual, on the threshold of the kitchen. “Sora, Oliver,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron, noticing the mud stains on their legs and faces. She crouched in front of them, using a piece of cloth to wipe the mud off Sora’s face. “Kids, weren’t you going to take a shower?”
“Where’s Jeanbo?” Oliver asked as she went to lean his cheeks.
“Huh?” Sasha replied.
“Jeanbo and Mika,” Sora said, pouting. “They were going to help us choose our clothes.”
Sasha straightened, putting her hands on her waist. “Does grandpa know you call him that?”
“He laughs!” Oliver replied, looking outraged.
“Those two spoil you guys too much,” Sasha replied, shaking her head. “You should be calling them grandma and grandpa. It’s disrespectful to call them by their names.”
“But Mika said it was alright!” Sora said, jumping a little in her spot. “She said it’s cute!”
Of course, her mother thought it was cute. She was the main culprit when it came to spoiling the twins. They were her first grandchildren, and neither of the two had inherited the Ackerman’s serious traits. It was all Jean’s, Sasha’s mother often said…from their cheeky smiles and hazel eyes to their loud, proud voices and talent to become the leaders of any group of children. Perhaps that was why her mother found them so incredibly adorable.
Although, to be fair, Sasha thought, they were incredibly adorable.
“Where are they, mama?” Oliver asked.
“They went out for a walk five minutes ago.” Sasha said, looking out the window. “Mom likes feeling the sun, and dad likes holding her while walking.”
Oliver and Sora exchanged an outraged look with each other, then looked up at her. Sasha couldn’t help but to smile wider at the sight of their childish indignation. “They didn’t wait for us!” they exclaimed at the same time.
“Let them be, kiddos,” Sasha said, taking off her apron. Decorating the cookies would have to wait, maybe she could ask her father for help. He’d always been better with art, after all. “Those two will be with you all afternoon. Let them have their romantic time together, okay?”
Oliver and Sora smiled cheekily, showing her the two dimples on each of their cheeks. That one trait, they’d gotten from Sasha’s husband. She adored seeing that tiny part of him on their faces. “What is it, you two?”
“They’re always having romantic time, mama.” Oliver pointed out.
“That’s because they love each other very much.” Sasha said, walking forward. The two let go of each other’s hands and allowed her to stand between them, to hold their hands and lead them upstairs, where a warm bath waited for each.
“Have they always been like that, mama, all lovey-dovey?” Sora asked.
“As long as I remember, yes,” Sasha replied as they went up.
“Will they be like that forever?” Oliver asked then.
“I’m pretty sure. They’ve still got plenty of years ahead, don’t they?” Sasha said, and her children hummed yes in response, at the same time.
Sasha smiled; she’d grown to know their story gradually, how much they’d lost, all the sorrow, pain, and death, and all the light that had followed afterwards. Her mother and father had taken all the little broken pieces of their souls and created a kaleidoscope that reflected in beautiful rays of light in a myriad of colors upon their family. They’d created happiness out of sorrow, and they deserved so many more years together.
They deserved to live through the happy times, the sad times, to grow old together. They deserved to love each other, love their children, their grandchildren, their friends. The family that had bloomed from disaster and pain.
They deserved to live. They all did.
#jeankasa#jean x mikasa#jean kirschtien#mikasa ackerman#jeanmika#Jeankasa Week 2021#jeankasaweek2021#fanfiction#ao3#fluff#Family#Day 3#shingeki no kyojin fanfiction
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Know What You Did Last Summer
Part 1 | Part 2 Preview | Part 2
Summary: After a fun-filled graduation night, your heart is torn between your two best friends, Ten and Lucas. A fire is ignited between the three of you that isn’t as easy to calm as it was to start. And this lustful fire, just like any fire, spreads and seeks to destroy anything in its path, for there is no telling what Ten will do for you, or rather, to you.
Pairing: King!Ten x female reader (as well as Prince! Lucas)
Genre: Royalty!AU, love triangle, angst, smut, fluff
Warnings: manipulation, possessiveness, blackmail, cheating!, character death, mention of blood, mention of self-harm, alcohol use, smut!: threesome, unprotected sex, penetration (v and a), oral sex (m and f), hand job, fingering, fondling, c*eampie, biting, bdsm (paddle use, choking, rope use), orgasm denial, overstimulation, semi-public sex.
Word Count: 20.9k
Taglist: @suhweo @5shotsamericano @alreadyblondenow @khiphoptrash-0 @adorejaehyn @08skrr @ateez-babygirl @cherriesaries @suhfluffy @starlightdustsposts @agnessvaltersen @krispysun @montersloth @galadrielbeth @cafe-lectura @Jiyoungiejae @labelleetoilex3 @ceruleanskies @neo-cult-ure @goldensky @verasloggia @jaewalking @hhaechann @commentgirl @uwusofties @toffee-reads-and-writes @generalkpopwhore @kawaiimusiccollection @ainigmatikos-posts @kkuljungwoo @kaiwatabe
A/N: PART TWO is HERE!! Thank you all for your support for part 1!! We appreciate it so much! We hope you enjoy part two, the finale to this adventure. We are so excited, once again, for you guys to see what happens! We had so much fun writing this and would love your feedback💕
——————
[JANUARY 1896]
It’s the night of the Chinese festival. Kids run about the town as folks put up their decorations and line up delicious and colorful foods for all that walk by. The air is light, with everyone laughing and talking as they enjoy each other’s company.
Friends meet from all over the land, as all kingdoms come together to celebrate the turn of the new year.
You’re dressed in a beautiful red dress with gold adornments, leaving Ten’s mouth agape once he opens the door of carriage to help you out. Seeing you in your bright and dazzling outfit under the lantern lights makes his heart flutter. Your gold eye shadow brings out the depth of color in your eyes, the ones that looked around nervously.
“You look amazing, my love.” Ten states as you take his hand and fall onto his chest lightly.
He gives you a light peck on the cheek, but you move away and let go of his hand soon after, hoping that you didn’t move too quickly while in front of the other attendees.
The last thing you wanted was for everyone to be able to see or even speculate that your marriage was in trouble.
You walk slightly ahead and force a smile to the onlookers.
“Hello, hello.” You say to everyone that bows while standing poised with both hands in front.
Ten also forces an awkward smile as he is left behind.
You look over the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the tall man that neglected to speak to you for the last few months. Oh, how you missed him and his letters. You missed his warmth, for Ten’s coldness only grew to annoy you more and more as your time together increased.
You start to frown slowly, but in an instant, you see his bright smile. He holds Rosé’s hand and reaches for a lantern from a store owner. He hands the beautifully detailed lantern to her with the brightest smile on his face and wide eyes.
You heart begins to shatter. You wished you could have that moment with him, you wished you could be the one to kiss him when the fireworks went off later that night. Rosé was so lucky, she had no idea.
Ten quickly steps forward and takes your arm into his hand from behind, guiding you to the left and distracting you.
He knew you had spotted Lucas so he took you away as fast as he could.
“This way, honey.”
You and Ten enjoy some of the food provided by local chefs. It’s the finest food you’ve ever had, as they worked diligently to provide for you two, the highest royals in the land.
But you can’t focus on the flavors, you still think of Lucas’ face. Even with the loud drums and strings that play throughout your entertaining dinner set, you can only see his smile.
“What’s wrong? Are you displeased? Waiter! This food is no good! Can’t you see how upset my wife-?” Ten waves over the servant.
“Ten! No! It’s great, amazing actually.” You put your hand over his and turned to him, your eyes big as you try to stop him.
“It’s fine, calm down..please.” You whisper to him.
Ten frowns. “Then what’s wrong? You look like you’re unhappy. It’s not good for us or for the people.”
“It’s nothing..I was just lost in thought Ten, I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize, sweetheart..I love you.” He forced a smile and brought his fingers to your chin. A moment passes when you look into each other’s eyes.
His calm demeanor shifts at your hesitancy.
“Do—you love me?”
“Of course..” you turn your head away from him and look back at your food.
“Then say it.” He holds your chin again, this time placing his thumb on it to bring your attention back to him with a little more force.
His eyes are dark, his tone is low as he speaks through gritted teeth.
“I—have to go to the ladies room.” You stand up instantly.
Ten exhales loudly. “Seulgi! Please escort our Queen to the nearest bathroom.”
Seulgi walks up to you and quickly places her hand around your arm to guide you, but you pull it away.
“I don’t need..your assistance. I’m not a child.” You look from her and back to Ten, who knew what he was doing. He wanted her to watch you and make sure that you don’t find Lucas.
“You look a little ill, darling. She’ll go with you to make sure you don’t fall out. I know you and corsets don’t exactly get along.” Ten flashes a small smile when he sees your look of disbelief and nods towards Seulgi.
You turn to leave but Ten calls you again.
“Oh, and my love..”
You turn back to him.
“Yes, Ten?”
“Hurry back before the fireworks.” he winks and takes a sip of his wine.
The two of you walk slowly to the bathroom as you think of a way to escape her. That’s when you see a dance going on between a group of teenagers. They hold hands and move in a tightly knit circle around a large dragon.
You take this as your opportunity to scurry away from Seulgi, ducking under the joined arms quickly and putting yourself by the large dragon in the center.
The immense dragon spins around quickly and moves up and down to the music and cheering.
“Your majesty!” You hear her call out, but you duck again and shimmy around the dancers.
When you look behind you, you see that she’s looking for you on the opposite side of the circle so you run underneath the linked arms again and away from her.
About five steps away, a store owner hands out decorated dragon masks, so you swiftly grab one and bow.
You place it onto your face by pulling the string around your head. Luckily for you, the town is crowded with thousands of people so you’re able to slip away and into any corners without anyone really noticing you, the Queen.
You walk around, searching for Lucas while avoiding Ten, Seulgi, and the rest of the servants. It’s difficult to breathe behind your mask, but you’re not focused on that, you’re focused on finding him.
You eventually see what looks to be the back of Rosé’s head, but you don’t see her giant counterpart. So you step closer.
Suddenly, you’re snatched up by the arm and dragged into a dark alleyway.
Shit.
“Hey!” You yell as the large hand squeezes you.
You try to identify the man but he wears a mask similar to your own.
“How dare you hold me, the Queen, like this? Unhand me right now!” You have a fit as you believe that it’s one of Ten’s men that has dared to touch you.
“Shhh!!” The man pushes you into the wall and tears his mask off.
Your heart drops when you recognize the beautiful brown eyes that look into your own deeply.
You take your mask off slowly and stare at him for a moment. He bends down towards you, keeping you locked in between his strong arms with his hands placed flat against the wall.
“Lucas..where have you been? Why have you been ignoring me? Wait, how did you even know it was me?”
“Shhh..just kiss me.” He leans down and places his lips onto yours, drawing you into a kiss full of passion and longing.
His tongue traces over your bottom lip as you lean into him more.
You wrap your arms around his waist to pull him closer to you, your shoulders raising as your eyes shut.
His face leaves yours, steamy breath decorating your bottom lip as he looks into your eyes.
“Lucas..that’s not enough..you ignored me.” You lick your lips.
Lucas still stares at your lips. “What do you want me to do, y/n?”
“I want you to write letters to me..tell me..”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me..you love me” you look into his eyes as your heart races because of his close proximity.
“I could write a million letters proclaiming my love for you, y/n. But it wouldn’t matter. You still belong to him. We aren’t meant to be together, can’t you see?”
“I..I don’t care. I need you, no matter what happens, I’ll always need you.” You hold the side of his face as you whisper.
“Please..y/n. I love you, but we can’t do this anymore. One of us will get hurt.” Lucas pleads, but looks out to the side, carefully watching for anyone that walks by and peaks in. He looked worried, like he was contemplating spending any time with you.
And the truth is, he was worried especially after Hendery’s threatening visit. Hendery topped it off with a challenging duel to assert his devotion to the King, but as hard as Hendery fought, Lucas overpowered him. Nonetheless, Lucas wouldn’t tell you this as he wouldn’t want you to worry.
“It’s best that we stop this.” He exhales.
But you want him so badly. You want to feel him hold you in his arms again. You want that feeling of sunshine running through your veins as you make pure love.
“Fine. But first put my heart at ease, Lucas, don’t just ignore me. Look at me and tell me you don’t care, tell me you don’t love me and that you want this to end. Tell me that your heart does not tremble as mine does when I’m with you.”
He turns to you and looks into your eyes, his mouth falling open but no sound comes out.
He shakes his head slowly and closes his eyes while sighing. “You know I can’t do that.”
So you kiss him again. Your arms circling around his neck this time as you press your lips into his hard. Your teeth clash as the kiss becomes messier, your lips becoming red.
The two of you kissed as a feeling of frustration filled your bodies. You couldn’t be together honestly, yet you couldn’t be away from each other. Lucas tried to ignore you unsuccessfully. It tore him apart when he had to stop writing letters to you. He tried to distract himself by hunting and fulfilling his duties, and by being a good husband to Rosé and giving her happy nights. But at the end of it all, he always missed you.
Lucas stopped the kiss, pulling away to look into your eyes filled with tears.
“I missed you.” He says before giving you the softest smile.
You feel your face become hot. “I missed-“
“Has anyone seen the Queen?!” You hear a man shout.
“Put your mask back on.”
He states before putting his on.
“W-what?”
Lucas only takes your mask out of your hand and places it onto your face then tying it for you.
He takes your hand and leads you out of the alleyway.
“Hold your head down.”
You both hurry past the crowds, working your way to wherever Lucas was taking you.
People gather to the river where they will get the best view of the firework celebration that is to happen soon.
But the two of you move in the opposite direction.
After about 10 minutes of brushing past hundreds of people and into an empty area outside of the market, you finally reach a gazebo.
It just the two of you there, everyone has gathered over a thousand feet away and towards the river where music is playing while people cheer and dance.
Lucas tears his mask off and sits down onto the bench in the gazebo. You take your mask off too as he holds your waist and brings you down onto his lap.
You resume your kiss, breathing heavily as your body moves back and forth onto his growing bulge.
He reaches under the many layers of your dress, laughing out as he struggles to find your thighs.
“I know..it’s a lot.” You laugh.
He smiles widely. “But it’s beautiful...you’re beautiful.” He looks into your eyes while pressing his fingers onto your slit.
You hiss at the contact, your hips instantly moving faster.
He fixes his pants down his legs as you lift yourself up slightly. His free cock now presses against the skin of your inner thigh. You wish you could see it or even touch it, but you had to move fast. Surely, Ten and his men would be combing through the crowds now looking for you or even Lucas.
“Fuck.” Lucas whispers through a staggered breath as you lower yourself onto him.
You kiss him hard as you grind down on him, his fingers gripping your legs hard, pressing into the soft skin.
He licks your neck and kisses it softly, careful not to leave any marks. He would tear your dress off and decorate every part of you with kisses if he had his way, but he knew it was impossible for tonight.
Just being close to you for this moment was enough. Red made you look gorgeous and the night lights and makeup you wore made you look like an angel that graced the earth.
You moved up and down faster, your mouth falling open as that familiar feeling started to return.
Lucas brought his hands onto your ass now, pushing himself deeper and deeper into you as you cried out.
“Shhh.” He tried to shush you as your moaning grew louder. No one was close by, and the commotion would’ve covered any noises the two of you made but he had to be sure.
He grunted into your ear, his teeth lightly grazing your neck as he also got closer, his pre-cum spilling into you.
He places two fingers onto your clit, rubbing it slowly. Your chest falls and you can’t hold back any longer.
“Yes..” you cry out, moving faster. Some of your hair falls out of your bun, you can’t form coherent sentences as Lucas dick commands your wet flower, pushing against your sweet spot repeatedly.
You begin to make out again, your lips covered in spit as your tongues dance.
“Lucas!” You moan loudly, but the sound of the fireworks booming through the night sky covers your noise.
Your eyes shut tightly.
He curses as he releases into your trembling body, holding you down onto his hips.
The fireworks still blow up and out into the sky while you relax.
Your heart rate normalizes and you pick yourself off of him. You sit beside him, legs weak and chest still heavy.
He fixes his pants and clears his throat.
“I love you, y/n. I love you so much. I would never abandon you.”
Lucas contemplated telling you about Ten’s demanding letter, but it wasn’t the right time.
“We must be careful, should we continue.”
You smile and kiss him once more. Nothing mattered in that moment. You just wanted to enjoy the fireworks with him, for you knew that the fireworks were meant to bring good luck to any couples that stood beside each other as they went off to bring in the new year.
Maybe you would receive a blessing. Maybe..the two of you could end up together.
After several minutes of enjoying each other’s company, you both decided to head back to your spouses, departing in opposite directions.
You made sure to wipe yourself clean in a restroom, then fix your lipstick and hair before heading out towards your carriage.
People started to disperse as the celebrations calm down after the fireworks. They made their way back to their own carriages, smiling and laughing, but you heard a commotion as you got closer to your grand carriage.
You flinched as you heard a screeching scream. You picked your dress up and walked faster, your smile fading from your face.
“What’s going on?” You asked a man in the crowd that circled around your carriage.
“Oh!...your majesty, excuse me.” The man stepped out fo your way as did several other men that stood in front.
You heard the thunderous crack of a whip and another screech followed by a woman crying.
You looked closer and saw that someone kneeled on the ground, their back was naked and littered with red slash marks.
“Oh no..” you ran forward when you saw Ten watch as one of his men pulled his arm back to deliver yet another blow to the poor girl.
Your eyes widened when you saw who the person being attacked was.
Seulgi.
“Stop!” You threw your body over hers before the man could whip her once more.
“Halt!” Ten called to stop the man.
“And there she is..” Ten says softly, a smile creeping across his face as he watches you hold Seulgi, her blood staining your expensive dress.
You start to cry, looking into her cherry-red face wet with tears. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”
“What are you apologizing for? She’s the one that’s incompetent and cannot complete a simple task for her king.” Ten raises an eyebrow.
You become furious. He took his madness out on someone innocent and in front of many people. He humiliated and hurt her all because they could not find you.
You snap your head up to look at him through angry eyes. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
The crowd gasps and Ten’s eyes grow, but his face still displays an evil smile.
“How dare you talk to your king like that!” You hear his mother yell.
“You wretch! You should be punished!” She steps forward.
“Mother..calm down..shes our Queen after all. She’s allowed to express herself.” Ten speaks calmly.
He walks over to you and crouches down.
You hold Seulgi tight, covering her body as she sobs into her hands.
“It’s my fault, your majesty, I shouldn’t have abandoned you. I failed you, please, I must receive the lashings as punishment for my incompetence.” She says in between sniffles, her body shaking out of fear and immense pain from her burning wounds.
Your heart breaks at the sight, you’re the cause of all this. You were the one that abandoned her. “No..no, it’s not your fault, I was the one that slipped away, I was the one that lost you. I’m so sorry.”
“Go away!” You yell out at the people that still crowd you and watch the drama unravel.
They quickly disperse into all directions and leave.
“And where exactly did you slip away to for all that time, y/n?” Ten turns to you.
“I got lost, there’s thousands of people here, Ten..but how could you do this?”
“And what about Lucas?”
You look up at him slowly, a moment resting between his question and your answer, but you are quickly interrupted by a soft voice.
“He was with me, your majesty.” Rosé walks quickly towards the three of you, Lucas following behind.
She lied to protect you, or rather, to protect Lucas.
Ten stands up straight and looks past Rosé and onto Lucas.
“That’s good to hear..it seems he understands the importance of being beside one’s spouse once the fireworks light up the sky on this special night.”
Ten smirks and turns back to you. “Get up, we have business to tend to back home.”
You obey his order as to not piss him off any more. You don’t dare spare a glance to Lucas but you can feel his eyes on you, how sorrowful they must look.
“Irene! Get her cleaned up and out of my sight!” Ten says before squeezing your arm and taking you to the carriage.
He helps you inside and sits beside you before the two of you endure a long and silent drive back home.
Once you get back home, Ten takes your arm and practically throws you inside. You quickly turn to him and close your fists tightly.
He pushes you into the wall, pressing his body into yours. “Do you take me for a fool? Huh?! After all this time, do you think I’m just some foolish schoolboy still?”
“I think you’re crazy! Wait, no, I KNOW you’re crazy!”
He takes your jaw into his hand and brings his lips to yours, forcing a kiss onto them.
You slap him and watch as he backs away.
“You expect me to love you after that? You embarrassed an innocent woman, Ten! And on the night of the Chinese festival of all nights, how can I love you?! You keep me caged like some kind of animal! I can’t take it anymore!”
Ten rubs the spot you slapped him and grows furious, fire roaring through his veins.
“You were supposed to come back to me! We were supposed to kiss as we bring in the new year together!”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find my way back, but you have to understand, I didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident.”
“I know what it is..” Ten exhales and walks around the foyer.
“I’ve been too lenient, I’ve been too giving. I am not a king, I am a weak fool that falls for the same person over and over. The person that never stops taking advantage. The person who I just can’t say no too.”
“Ten..” you shake your head.
“But I know what I’ll do..I’ll release you..I’ll let you go, like the caged bird you feel like you are. You will be free.” Ten swallows hard..he walks into the guest room and sits down. You follow him and watch as he pours himself a glass of scotch.
“You will no longer be Queen, you can leave me..”
Could Ten possibly be letting you go? Could you be with Lucas after all?
You sit down on the chair adjacent to his.
Ten gives you a moment to protest, but once you don’t, he begins to grow angry again. He thinks that you do in fact want to be free from him since you do not call him a fool for saying such outrageous things. He knew he’d never let you go, but seeing your eyes grow with hope made him irritated.
“You can be relinquished of all royal titles and live as a beggar, you’ll never see your family again, but that wouldn’t matter, right? Just as long as you have Lucas..”
Your eyes flicker up to him.
“Ten..”
“But poor Lucas and his family, they’d have to live and eventually, die in poverty..hmmm so sad.” Ten downs the liquid and slams the glass onto the table. He gives you a sarcastic smile.
“I...despise you, Ten.” You stand up and head for the door, but Ten rushes after you spinning you around before grabbing a fistful of your hair.
His lips smash into yours once more as his hand pulls your hair pin out, your hair falling loose.
You kiss him back, biting his lips on purpose but not pushing him away as you did before.
He bites into your neck as he listens to you whine. Your hands scrape at his back, scratching him through his shirt as he groans.
He breaks the kiss off and tears away the fabric of your dress, revealing your breasts and exposing them to the cold air.
“Do you want to know what I was thinking when I watched her be punished?”
“What?” You say before he sucks your nipple as the two of you stand in the foyer, angrily embracing each other.
“How badly I want to punish you in ways you’ve never been punished before..”
Ten flips you around, pushing you into the wall so your back is against his chest.
He kisses you from behind, but quickly bites into your shoulder while grabbing your hair and pulling back roughly.
“And the way you spoke to me in front of all those people..that was the icing on the cake, sweetheart.” Ten’s gravelly voice enters your ear.
He unlaces your corset and slides down what’s left of your dress with one hand while his other hand holds both wrists tightly and over your head.
He then presses his fingers onto your clit, immediately rubbing circles into it as you cry out his name.
He bites harder into your shoulders, breaking the skin to draw blood.
“Fuck!” You moan at the mixture of pain and pleasure.
He fingers you as his cock presses against your ass, your head falls back, you close your eyes and focus on the way his fingers stretch you out so wonderfully.
Ten pinches your nipple with his other hand, but continues to suck hard onto you shoulder.
Your essence runs down your wavering legs. You can’t think or even speak straight.
“Yes..T-Ten..right..there.”
You’re so close, you clench around him but he takes his fingers out and spins you around to face him.
“Did you really think it would be that easy?”
He kneels and gives you a smirk as he looks up at your disappointed face.
Ten was never like this, he always made sure you came no matter what, but now he was denying you.
You lock eyes as he sucks his fingers clean.
“You’re cruel.” You whimper.
He chuckles and runs a hand down your abdomen, adoring your soft skin and the way you fidget.
“Oh, you have no idea.I’ll show you crazy, my darling. Yes, tonight, I’ll drive you mad, just as mad as you’ve made me.”
He holds your legs by the crook of your knees and places them over his shoulders, his head now in between them and hot breath fanning over your soaking entrance.
He licks slowly as he watches you moan.
Your hand goes to the back of his head, and runs through his hair.
“Oh, my love. I would be a fool to let such a sweet thing go.” Ten whispers then licks in between your folds.
His kitten licks drive you crazy, you can’t help but grab onto his hair tighter.
“Please Ten..”
But he continues to go slow, watching you above him as you play with your nipple and mutter out curse words. He won’t push in further, but he allows the tip of his nose to tickle your bud.
He flattens his tongue, working his way past your folds as you shake.
You’re needy to the point of tears, but Ten doesn’t budge.
“Oh fuck.. let me cum please.” You whine again.
He finally dips his tongue in, swirling it around as he kisses your slit. You move your hips against his face, feeling the bridge of his nose press onto your bud.
“Yes..” your head falls back.
Ten applies pressure to that one spot he knows will make you go crazy, and just as you’re about to cum he pulls his face away from your pussy, kissing your thigh while your chest falls.
“You don’t deserve to cum.”
He yanks your arm and drags you upstairs to the bedroom.
“Do you..remember..the first night we fucked sweetheart?”
“How could I forget?” You breathlessly let out, your legs still weak from being close to your climax not once, but twice.
“The safe word..what was it?? Ah yes, gold.” Ten pushes you onto the bed.
“On your stomach, hands behind your back.” You turn over as he demands, your ass up and ready, but little do you know what Ten has planned for you.
Ten takes silk rope that was placed inside
the nightstand and ties both of your wrists together.
You squeal as he tightens it so tight, you know that you won’t be able to shimmy out of it if you tried.
Ten holds the back of your neck as he leans down to whisper into your ear.
“Ass up at all times, if you falter, you’ll be like this all night.”
You nod. You’d do anything to cum at this point.
Ten then ties two silk ropes around your ankles, each rope leading to your wrists. You can no longer separate your legs from your arms. You’re open for him and restricted, unable to close your legs or move your arms. The ropes are right, you can feel the blood pressure increases, but a part of you likes it.
The image of Ten over your bound body only makes you ache for a release even more. You want to feel him inside you, running his veiny cock against your walls.
Ten rubs his hand over your ass teasingly, just barely touching it to trace the roundness of it.
He pulls his pants down and pushes into you in one swift move, you can’t adjust in time and whine loudly at the sudden penetration.
Your body falls forward, but he grips your wrists and brings you back to him, grunting as he reaches your depths and runs his length along your soothing walls.
“Ahh!! Ten!” You scream as he pushes into you again, ramming his dick into.
“Don’t be so surprised, sweetheart, I told you I would punish you. But you’re so fucking wet, I’m beginning to think you’re enjoying this.”
Ten pulls out slowly, groaning at the way you clench and twitch around his length.
Your feet and hands go numb, the tight rope digging into your skin to leave a mark.
“You look so pretty like this, all tied up for me. If i could have you like this all the time, I’d be overjoyed.”
Ten growls then slams into you once again, this time, letting your body fall onto the bed while you moan.
He pulls you by your hair and whispers into your ear, pinching your nipples so your eyes fly open.
“I hope it’s not too much for you.” He states in a mocking tone.
He pushes your head forward into the bed again, drilling into your body as his skilled hips fail to miss a beat.
The sounds of skin against skin and your moans fill the air, making you feel weak. The tingly feeling in your stomach just begging to be eased.
“Ten..please..I’m almost-“ you say through staggered breaths.
“I’m gonna..”
“Do you want to end up like Seulgi? Don’t you dare cum without my approval.” He growls and moves even faster.
It’s hard to hold back, but you’re not exactly sure what Ten is capable of anymore. You follow his orders as tears run down your cheeks. You bite your lips and try not to cum as he coats your walls with his own essence and holds you fast against him.
He pants and lays his body on top of yours.
He pulls out, but replaces his dick with his fingers, pushing the cum that has leaked out back into you.
He looks at the side of your face as he fingers you, looking into your eyes before giving your cheeks a light peck. His hair has fallen into his face, his exposed shoulders shining in the dimly lit room with sweat. He’s incredibly gorgeous, even when he’s angry.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. A king never disappoints his obedient queen at the end of it all.”
Obedient being the key word.
“Ten..baby, please.”
“Shhh...it’s too late to beg, stay here.”
Ten leaves the room, your body still on the bed, aching in your strenuous position.
He comes back in not too long after, however, retaking his position behind you.
“Ahhhh..my beautiful queen, how will I let the world...” he takes a breath before continuing, traces of sarcasm echoing in his tone. “And any other man..know that you are mine?”
You breathe heavily.
Then feel a sharp slap to your butt. A wooden paddle sends you into the bed, your voice letting out a crackling cry at the unexpected hit.
“No..no..keep your body up, sweetheart.” He puts his arm under you and brings your body back to its original position.
He then smacks you again, but with less force.
“See? Here I go, going easy on you again.”
Another smack, you shut your eyes tightly and feel your slick run down your legs.
“Look at you..getting turned on by this.” He swings the paddle onto you again, but with as much force as he did the first time.
He grabs you by your hair before you can crash into the bed.
“Oh my god, Ten!” You cry out.
He slaps you again.
“There we go..now we are getting the reaction that we need..your skin is magnificent, especially in this bruised tone.”
You sob, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of saying the safe word.
He delivers another blow as you yelp.
He becomes hard again at the sight of your entrance dripping and ass irritated.
He moves behind you and places the paddle down. His fingernails dig into your hips as he drags your ass towards him, this time he pushes into your asshole slowly.
“Ten!”
He grunts then pushes into you all the way. “So tight. Just like the first night.”
He moves in and out at a steady pace, your breath leaving you with each thrust. You whimper and struggle against your restraints, but he feels amazing, you don’t want him to stop.
He leans forwards and pushes two fingers into your mouth, his hips increasing in speed.
“Ahhh..fuck.” Strings of cum enter you once again.
That night, Ten teased you endlessly, playing with your body like it was a toy for a spoiled child on Christmas. Keeping it in weird positions as he fucked into you over and over. Choking you while denying you of release, your makeup was smudged and messy as you cried from over-sensitivity. He took his frustrations out on you all night and you wondered how he was still so energetic.
And when he finally let you experience your long awaited orgasm, your hands loose and scratching at his back, your ankles over his shoulders as he pushes into you from above and kisses your lips like he needs them to survive. You came hard, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Shortly after, you fell asleep as he cleaned you up.
The next day, you couldn’t walk. Your bum, wrists and ankles were littered with painful bruises. Your neck and chest also had too many love bites for you to count. It was safe to say you’d be in the house for a while. No one could see you like this.
Your eyes squint as the sunlight burns through the thin curtains.
Ten walks into the room. “Good morning.”
He gives a small smile then scoops you off of the bed.
“W-where-?” You rub your eyes.
“Is a man not allowed to take his wife to the bath?” Ten looks onto you with furrowed brows.
He places you down into the bath filled with water and rose petals. Usually, your maids helped you bathe while Ten was out of the room, but here Ten was being the caring husband he should be.
“That was the hardest I’ve ever gone, darling. You are clearly fit to be my wife after all.” He says as he washes you down. He sits on the side of the tub and massages your body with warm water, and expensive soap he created far away in the mountains just for you.
You moan and bite your lips. His touch is soothing, his hands move over your breasts and your abdomen slowly, and soon, the apex of your legs.
“Ten-“ you draw in a sharp breath.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Join me..please.”
And so he joins you in the oversized, luxurious tub, making love to you once more as water splashes onto the floor, your legs around his waist, your hands running along his soft back. Ten moans as he feels your fingers delicately trace over the scratch marks you gave him last night.
“I’m so happy you’re mine.” He whispers as you drift into sleep again.
————
[MARCH 1896]
Ten holds your hand tightly as the two of you walk into a tea shop.
The store owner immediately bows to both of you. “Your majesty, welcome! Allow me to provide you with the finest tea in the land. I would’ve been more prepared had I known of your visit, I do apologize.”
“No need to apologize, thank you for welcoming us.” You cut in before Ten can make a snarky comment like he always did to people below him.
The two of you sat down to enjoy delicious tea from all over the world. Some spicy, some incredibly sweet, and some so refreshing, it felt like you were drinking liquid happiness.
“Which ones do you prefer, my love?” Ten turns to you as you wipe your mouth with a napkin.
“I like..the Wuyi Narcissus..” you breathlessly let out, suddenly becoming weak and dizzy. Your heart beats rapidly, almost like it’s threatening to burst through the cage it’s in.
Blood rushes to your head as you lean over, your vision blurring and hands releasing the tea cup you held.
A crash sounds as the fine china splatters all over the floor, a commotion follows.
“Y/n? Y/n! What have you done to her?!” Ten holds your body and shakes you lightly, but you’ve already passed out completely.
Later that day, you wake to find yourself laying on your shared bed. Your eyes flutter open to see a man with glasses and a small smile over you.
“I don’t care if no one has ever been sickened by his tea before, I want that man dead by sunset!” Ten yells outside of the room.
“What-what happened?” You ask the man that seems to have just taken your temperature.
“Sweetheart! You’re okay..” Ten rushes over beside you.
“I promise that man will not see another morning for hurting you like this.”
“Ten..what are you talking about?” You still feel very weak, your hands and feet are numb.
“Bring him in!” Ten yells outside of the room.
Two guards drag the tea shop owner inside your bed room and make him kneel at the foot of your bed by kicking the crook of his knees.
“Ahh! Your majesty, I did not poison you! I swear by it! I would never-“ the old man cries, his eyes are bruised, swollen and blood runs from the corner of his mouth.
“Shut up!” Ten slaps the man hard with the back of his hand, making him fall forward and cry louder.
“Ten!” You cry out and reach for him.
“Please..please don’t.” Youre voice is barely above a whisper as you still struggle to breathe normally.
“this bastard poisoned you!”
Ten walked back towards you.
“Actually, that may not be the case.. your majesty, now that you are awake, may I ask you a question?” The man with the glasses beside your bed cuts in.
“My name is Kun Qian, I am the royal family’s physician.”
“Hello, Doctor. Yes, you may ask me anything.”
“When was the last time you experienced menstruation?”
Your eyes widened at the doctor asking such a private question, but then you really thought about it. You hadn’t seen your period for some time.
“It-it’s been quite a while, doctor.” You look up at him and nod your head.
“As I suspected, based on your temperature and low blood pressure, it seems as though you are pregnant.” He gives you a smile and looks back at Ten.
“A heir is on the way!”
Your mouth falls open as anguish covers your entire body. You weren’t ready to be a mother, you didn’t think you could even carry a baby. Hell, it was only the first few days or so and you had already fainted.
Your brows are knitted as you stare at the doctor, then look back at Ten.
He smiles from ear to ear, then leans down to pull you into a big hug.
“My love! We are going to have a baby!” He exclaims then pulls away to see your reaction. You still look dumbfounded, clearly not as excited as he is.
Ten frowns slightly, then turns back to the men in the room.
“Leave us!” He yells and they quickly scurry out of the room.
He turns back to you. “Well, don’t look so thrilled, sweetheart.” A sarcastic smirk falling over his face now that the room is empty.
“I..I am excited..I’m just nervous.”
“Please don’t worry, my love..” he rubs a hand slowly on top of the blanket covering your belly.
“I will ensure that you receive the best care throughout this pregnancy and after. As well as our dear child. They will be the most spoiled baby on Earth. Do you trust me?”
The answer was no. Ten was aggressive sometimes and words were just words. You weren’t sure what he was capable of.
“Darling?”
“Y-yes..I do.” You nod, and give him a reassuring smile to ease his concern.
“I would like to rest now, Ten.”
Ten nods before kissing your hand and leaving the room. He felt like he was on cloud 9, he ran through the house like a child that was just gifted a dog to chase and play with.
You rested your head onto your pillow and stared at the ceiling, thinking all sorts of things.
The night of the Chinese Festival..it had to have been then.
But which man was the father of the baby growing in you?
Ten believed it was his, but you weren’t sure, for little did he know, you too had been unfaithful.
————
[MAY 1896]
You sit and have tea with Ten’s mother.
“How do you feel?” She asks, faking concern.
“Well..I’ve had better days.”
She sighs and takes a sip from her cup.
“I don’t understand what my son sees in you. You can barely handle a pregnancy, how can you handle a nation of needy people?”
“You’ve said that before. How do you expect me to react?”
“I don’t expect anything from a weak girl like you, I know I’d only be setting myself up for disappointment. You came into his life out of nowhere. Your family barely has a respectable lineage. He could’ve gone with someone like that gorgeous Yoona from the Im Estate. But instead...he’s fascinated with you. And why? I’ll never understand.” She shakes her head.
You place your tea cup down loudly and exhale. “Why do you hate me so much, mother?” You say with venom in your tone. You’ve just about had enough with her for she always treats you like you’re less than Ten. She practically threw her hatred in your face since the day you met her.
“Oh, is it that obvious?” She chuckles then takes another sip.
“Well, quite frankly, y/n..I knew you were a lustful wretch from the minute I met you by the look in your eyes..even at your young age, I knew you wanted to corrupt my son, my baby. I knew you were gonna enslave him with your body, taint him and make him forget all that he’d learned.” She spits out while leaning forward.
You stare blankly and look at the table, trying to calm your nerves.
“You’re a whore, y/n, and I just know you fucked that fool, Lucas. That mistake of a man that was birthed by a disgusting prostitute. She threw herself onto my husband in order to take his money. And you’ve done the same to my naive Ten because you are just like her..a whore.”
You chuckle and leaned forward as you remembered catching her son all those times, in the stables, in the library.
“The only whore in this house is your son! He’s just like his father, your cheating bastard of a husband. All he does is stick his penis into anything with a heartbeat! And yet the King ended up with you! A hateful and downright evil bitch! Bless him for being relieved of your presence finally in death!” You lash out.
The queen backhand smacks you so hard, you placed your hands flat onto the table to hold yourself up straight.
The queen gasps and shoots up from her chair. She huffs. “If you ever dare open your foul mouth and speak to me like that again, I’ll see to it that your tongue is removed and fed to the wolves! I can’t kill you, for your death would ruin my son, but I will hurt you, child. Do not..mess with me.”
Seulgi runs over and helps you up from the table after the queen leaves.
Your back aches in pain as you stand up from the dining room table. You press your hand into the small of it and wince.
Your belly was so huge, you couldn’t even walk 10 steps without the need to stop and take a breath.
“I believe you should rest in your room, your majesty.” A maid helps you up the stairs and towards your bedroom. She was the one to always hold your hand and help you through any cramps you felt. You rarely saw Ten. He was always away for some trip or completing tasks in town, writing orders, or even hunting with other men.
You found it quite odd that he promised to give you the best treatment, but neglected to even check in with you on some days.
“Where..is my husband, Seulgi?” You move up the steps slowly.
“I-I am not sure, Miss, I believe he is out of town at the moment.”
You sigh. “Of course he is.”
“A letter came for you today, your majesty, I have placed it onto the desk in your study.” Seulgi changes the subject quickly, for she knows of Ten’s true whereabouts. She knows that he is actually in the very same castle that you’re in, only, he rests in a room far away on the other end of the large mansion, laying in bed with his favorite servant, Jade.
She knew that your pregnancy would be in danger if you ever discovered this.
“I would like to go there now, I will rest later.” You tell her. You put Seulgi in charge of collecting letters and hiding the ones that were closed shut with a distinct label. She didn’t know who the letters were from, but even if she had her own assumptions, you knew you could trust her of all the maids to stay quiet.
“Yes, your majesty.”
Once in the study alone, you open the letter from your beloved Lucas.
Your mouth widens into a smile as you read it and rub your irritated cheek.
Dear y/n,
I am delighted to know that you are doing well. Please continue to rest, eat, and sleep well. I wish I could be there to hold you and feel the subtle kicks of our child. I can imagine how cute it will be already, with your beautiful eyes and my dimples. The baby is so loved , it does not even know. We will provide it with everything that it needs and more. It will have the most caring parents known to man. Once the delivery is successful, I will pick you up and we will run away from this place together, raising our child in the sunniest place for the rest our lives. We will finally be together, my love. All three of us. I promise to see you soon.
Yours Always,
Lucas
A tears drops onto the paper. Your heart swells with joy when you think of finally living your life with your true love, Lucas. Carrying a baby was painful, but knowing that he loved you and planned to take care of you made it easier.
You wouldn’t have to deal with your careless, self-centered husband, you could finally be happy.
You clutched the letter to your chest and brought it with you to your room, holding it tightly as you fell asleep with a smile on your face.
————
[One Day Later]
“Your majesty...” Jade rushes into Ten’s study.
“What are you doing?! You know we can’t meet here!” Ten quickly stands up and walks close to Jade.
With shakey hands she lifts up a piece of paper to him.
“I am so sorry, your majesty, but I was cleaning the Queen’s quarters when I came across this letter. It was under one of the pillows on the bed!”
“Shhh..quiet down, you’ll wake her.”
Ten grabs the paper from her and looks into her eyes sternly. “And what gives you the right to read through our Queen’s personal documents, Jade?”
“I-I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but recognize the name at the bottom.”
Ten raises an eyebrow, but then proceeds to read through the note.
His face grows angry, his grip on the paper tightens as his knuckles become white as snow.
‘Our son.’
The audacity of this man. Ten thinks to himself.
“How dare he..” Ten scoffs, he begins to lose it slowly, he can’t even form coherent sentences or words to express how upset he is. So many thoughts run through his head. Had you and Lucas really fornicated that night when you disappeared at the festival?
Lucas wouldn’t be a fool to call the baby his child if this wasn’t the truth, for this was the only time that you had slipped out of Ten’s sight.
How dare he. Ten thought Lucas would’ve stopped it all. He thought he would’ve been a decent friend and left you alone like he asked, but he disobeyed his order and still continued to keep in touch with you.
How dare you. Oh you...you lied to him. His sweetheart, the one he loved so dearly with all his heart. He gave you everything, the world, and anything else that you could possibly ask for. You took advantage of his kindness, you took him for a fool once again.
And the worst part is, he still loved you. You could stab him in the chest with a sword while daunting an ice cold expression, and he’d still adore you.
And the fact that the two of you planned to run away together made everything worse. The child that he was so excited to welcome and raise into the world with you, would be snatched away from him by his own best friend.
He doubted that even being murdered by you was worse than what he felt right now.
“What will you do?” Jade whispers.
Ten sighs, his eyes narrowing. He knew better than to lash out like some sort of maniac. So he decided to stay cool and calm, he was notorious for that. No matter how difficult a situation be for him, he always remained calm. He was feared by all for this very reason, his silence and unreadable smile made him nothing short scary.
“It seems..Lucas and I will need to have a talk.”
He hands her the paper. “Put this back where you found it, then wait for me in the room at the end of the hall.”
Jade nods quickly and takes the paper from him before turning around.
“And Jade...I have no patience today, if you’re not naked and on your knees in five minutes..I will have no choice but to punish you..again.”
“I understand, your majesty.”
————
[JUNE 1896]
Ten gives your cheek a light kiss as he leaves your side.
“I’ll be gone for a few days, sweetheart, try not to miss me too much.”
“You’re always gone, Ten. I stopped missing you a long time ago. Now, I’m just used to it.”
“Ahhh, darling, don’t be so harsh. You know how it is for the King.” Ten straightens his arms out as his servant cleans his uniform of lint.
“I have to be here, I have to be there..the kingdom needs me.”
“And what about me? I’m carrying your baby, some care would be nice, what if I need you?” You were irritated at Ten today and couldn’t control your emotions as the contractions kept you up all night.
“My baby?” Ten quickly caught himself. “Don’t you mean our baby?”
You roll your eyes and lay back down in the bed as Ten smirks.
“I’ll have Seulgi bring you some tea for the pain.” He says as he exits the bedroom.
————
[JULY 1896]
“You have another letter, your majesty.”
You quickly take the letter from Seulgi and wave her off. “Thank you, you are dismissed.”
It was the first letter that you received from him in about two weeks, so you were more than excited to read it.
Dear y/n,
I apologize for taking so long to follow up with you. I have successfully escaped the Park Estate. Do not be worried, my love, for I only ran away to get settled before the baby arrives. I have taken several trains to get to where I am right now. It is beautiful, perfect even. I cannot think of a more suiting place for our family to thrive. I look forward to taking you here and being with you all the time. I am far enough so that no one will recognize me. Please promise me one thing, if Princess Rosé sends for me, do not tell her or anyone else in the kingdom where I am or about the letters that I send you. You are the only one that knows of my location. My mother and brother do not know and likely will not be asked for me, but when you get here safely, I will, of course, inform them as well. I am beaming with excitement. I cannot wait to see you again.
Yours eternally,
Lucas
———————
[AUGUST 1896]
You’re resting in your chambers, a heat flash making you too dizzy to even comprehend what time it is. You wish you could see your mother and father, but Ten’s mother has kept them from entering the premises, claiming that they would only add stress for you.
Ten sent your parents away to a different district where they would be in charge of finances. You thought it was unnecessary for them to be hours away from you, but Ten deemed them the right and only fit for the job.
A servant enters the room and calls out to you.
“Your majesty..”
“Yes..” you say groggily, squinting as the sun flight hurts your eyes.
You rub your belly and wince. “What is it?”
“Princess Rosé has come to see you, she says it is urgent.” Seulgi states with a look of worry.
“Let her in, please.” you sit up straight, preparing yourself for what is about to ensue.
Rosé comes rushing into your room.
“Your majesty! I cannot find Lucas!”
You furrow your brows. “What?”
Rosé sobs. “No one has seen him in two months...I thought he was visiting another city, but it turns out he never showed up. Your majesty, what if something’s happened to him? I am so worried..I.”
“Shhh...please, sit on the bed. We will find him, I’m sure he’ll be back from whatever trip he has taken soon enough.”
It hurt you to lie to Rosé like this, but it’s what Lucas asked of you.
He made you promise not to tell anyone the truth.
“It’s just..he’s never done this before, he’s never left and not even written a letter to me..oh, your majesty, I miss him so much.” Rosé cries hard into her hands.
You lean forward and rub her back. “He’s okay, Rosé, perhaps he needed some time away.”
She looks up at you. “You’re right, I think I left him too often. What if he doubts my love for him? He’s been so sweet to me, what if I’ve broken his big heart?”
Your eyes tear up as you think of the man you and Rosé both knew. Lucas loved everyone so deeply, he was a tall glass of love ever flowing, brightening anything and anyone he came into contact with.
It was a pity that someone as nice as Rosé would have to be hurt by both your actions.
Ten struts into the room. “What’s the matter?”
“I can’t find Lucas, I think something has happened to him, it’s been two months!” Rosé cries harder.
“Oh no..oh dear.” Ten steps closer before locking eyes with you, as if to ask if you knew anything about Lucas’ whereabouts.
You shrug your shoulders and shake your head as you pat Rosé’s back.
“Lucas, my dear friend. I’m sure he is hiking somewhere, going on some grand adventure like usually does. But do not worry, I will send out any and all of my men in search of him. We will speak to the countrymen and ask if they’ve seen him so we can trace his steps. We will search far and wide, even outside of the kingdom, Rosé. We will find him.”
“Oh, your majesty, I am forever in your debt.” Rosé stands up and bows to Ten.
But Ten watches your eyes, anxious to see how you react to his words. You wipe your eye of a tear and mouth “thank you.”
—————
[SEPTEMBER 1896]
“Doctor Qian...I might just rip this baby out myself..he dances like his father, and my belly is blessed to be the dance floor.” You wince as another contraction sets in.
The doctor lifts the stethoscope and his head from your stomach.
“Well, your majesty, I’m afraid you don’t have just one dancer in there.”
Your eyes grow large.“W-what?”
“There are, in fact, two heartbeats coming from your belly.”
“Doctor..what are you saying?”
“It looks like you’re in a considerable amount of pain because you’re pregnant with twins.”
He gives you a big smile.
You gasp. “Oh..my God.”
Ten walks into the room, fixing his pants as he steps in.
You scan him up and down while he smooths his hair back and breathes heavily.
He never made it to your appointments on time..even if he was already in the very castle that they occurred in.
“I’m sorry I’m late, any news doctor?” He says as he walks to your side of the bed.
“Yes, I was just informing your wife of her pregnancy with twins, your majesty.”
“Twins?!” Ten gasps, he immediately smiles from ear to ear, new found hope flooding his head. Could you possibly be pregnant with his child also?
“Yes, that is why she is in so much pain.”
“Sweetheart, that’s amazing.” Ten bends down to give you a kiss, but you turn your head.
“Doctor, when is the delivery date?”
Ten’s smile falls and he stands ups straight before rolling his shoulders.
“Late October or Early November, your highness.” The doctor snaps his briefcase shut, turning to bid you and Ten a farewell.
When the room is empty, you turn to Ten.
“Where were you, Ten?”
“Doesn’t matter, darling. I’m here now.” Ten shimmies off his jacket and sits on the edge of the bed.
“It does matter, because while the doctor is informing me of my health and the health of our CHILD, you’re off doing God knows what!”
You grip the sheets to hold in your anger.
“I can smell that bitch on you!” Your voice raises.
Ten moved over to you quickly, grabbing you by the throat and squeezing it slightly. His eyes full of pure anger.
“You’ve got some nerve, woman! I’ve given you everything you ask for, yet you lay here on the most expensive bed in this continent and all I hear from you are complaints! Be grateful for once and I may just want to spend time with you!”
He releases his grip and stands up before smoothing his pants.
You stare at him in shock. You contemplate tearing him apart with words, but you calm yourself. You needed to rest and keep your heartbeat stable to ensure the safe delivery of your babies, the ones you would soon raise with Lucas.
Ten walks to the door.
“You should rest and make sure my children are healthy..”
He looks at you over his shoulder. “Because if they aren’t...I’ll have your head put on a stake.”
—
Later that week, you receive another letter from Lucas. He tells you once again that he is safe and doing well, and is longing to see you.
You reply with a letter.
My dearest Lucas,
The doctor has informed me that I am pregnant with twins! Oh, how excited I am for you to meet them. They will have your laugh, your smile, your warmth. I love you, I wish you were here to take care of me. Ten has been absent on most days, leaving me to endure this pregnancy alone, even on the most painful nights. I know that if you were here, you’d be beside me through it all. Nonetheless, I pray that you are prepared for the twins. I will do my best to ensure their safe arrival. I look forward to reuniting with you soon and running away from this dreadful place, you will relieve me of my ties to this insane man and bring me to a paradise filled with true unconditional love, and we will live happily forever. My love, I need you..more than ever. Please be safe.
Yours Truly,
Y/n
After sending your letter off to a post office Lucas had given you the address of in another letter, you decide to walk about the castle for a while. The doctor advised you to take walks every now and then, but to not pressure yourself.
You head to the planetarium that Ten had built in just for you about a year ago. Back when Ten was caring and genuinely sweet, he did things for you just to see you smile. He knew you loved to look into the sky when you rested under the cherry blossom tree together, so he’d decided to get you a room where you could gaze together and hold hands just like you did in the old days.
You sit there and gaze at the stars, silently praying for a safe delivery that both you and your children would survive.
When you’ve spent an hour or so in the room, you finally get up and walk back to your room. You stop just after you pass by one of the rooms in the hallway. A loud groan escapes the door.
You lean in close and hear the whimpers of a woman as well. Your brows furrow. Surely, your servants wouldn’t be fooling around in your house.
You slowly turn the handle of the door and peak into the room.
Your heart drops at the sight and sound.
Ten makes love to Jade on the bed, thrusting his dick into her as her head falls over the edge of the bed and her legs spread further
apart. He sucks her neck and moans while a male servant enters him from behind, holding him by the waist as he pushes deep into your husband’s ass.
The man doesn’t see you as he throws his head back and looks to be on the brink of his climax.
A hand flies over your mouth, falling open.
You don’t make a sound, but Ten feels a gust of wind when the door opens up a little more.
He looks up at you, locking his dark, lustful eyes with your teary ones as you stand there in shock. Their bodies are naked, sweaty. Their moans and groans flood your ears.
But unlike the first time you caught him, he doesn’t stop. He pushes into her harder, still keeping eye contact with you.
He grabs her neck and begins to choke her, however, you just can’t seem to stop watching it all happen.
Her face begins to turn red, her eyes fly open and when she gets the upside down image of you in the doorway, she only chuckles.
Her voice gets louder as she cums.
“Oh! Oh, yes! Your majesty! Yes!” Her body shaking on the bed. Ten cums soon after, choking her harder as he watches you and grunts. The man behind him slams into Ten one more time before releasing into him and gripping onto his waist with his fingernails.
The audacity of them all. You clenched your fists, then slammed the door shut.
You wiped your tears with one hand and held your belly with the other. You tried not to cry too hard, for you didn’t want to stress yourself out, but Ten really ruined you. He didn’t care for you or love you, he only lusted after you. He only wanted to possess you.
That night, you kept yourself from crying by re-reading Lucas’ letters and dreaming of your wonderful life with him.
Ten had the nerve to bring breakfast to you the next morning.
You took the tray and threw it on the ground.
“Do you really think I’d eat something from you? You’re a revolting liar!”
“Oh? Revolting? Nice. Haven’t heard that one from you yet.” Ten sits on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah..well you really brought out my creativity after what you did yesterday.”
“What’s wrong? Are you jealous? You looked like you liked it..did it remind you of the first night?”
Ten taps the blanket with his fingers, slowly pushing them into the apex of your legs. “the night when Lucas and I played with your body? Ah, yes, we took turns entering and filling it up with our seed? It’s a shame he’s not here for us to do it again..”
His voice is laced with lust as he gazes at your swollen breasts.
“Don’t TOUCH me!” You move your leg and brush him off.
“So what? You’ll never let me touch you again? You’re my wife, darling..I have to touch you..kiss you..fuck you.” Ten gives a sadistic smile that you wish you could erase from your memory forever.
“You will NEVER put your dick in me again.”
“Then what good are you as my queen? We have to create a family..even after this pregnancy, there should be more, no? That’s what the people want, my love.”
“And if I leave you?” You say through gritted teeth.
Ten chuckles loudly. “Leave me? The king? I guess our children will be motherless, how sad. ‘Til death do us part,’ sweetheart, did you forget?”
“Why do you keep me around? You have people that give you what you need, because clearly, I am not enough..why do you hurt me?” Tears start to fill your eyes, making his apparition blurry.
“They’ll never be you..I love you..I need you, you’re mine and I’ll die before I let you go.” Ten runs his finger down your neck as he whispers.
“It feels amazing..having you here..to myself.”
“You’re pretty when you cry.” He wipes a tear.
“I hate you, Ten.”
Ten takes your hand and kisses it, laying it on the side of his face as he pouts.
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
————
[NOVEMBER 1896]
You hold Ten’s hand tightly, letting out another blood-curdling scream. Your hips feel like they will shatter at any moment as you deliver your children.
But after several hours of grueling contractions and labor, you deliver two beautiful girls. Ten let you choose the names so you chose Yīngtáo for Cherry and Kāihuā for Blossom as Lucas had suggested in a letter to you once.
Ten rocks one twin in his arms as he tears up. You rock the other in your arms and smile at her.
“Oh, y/n..they’re beautiful.” Ten sobs.
You smile. “I know..”
Your nurses take the babies away and into their care room, where they are bathed and fed. The doctor also checks their vitals to ensure that they are healthy.
It’s just you and Ten in the room after it’s been cleaned up.
Ten lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms. You’re too tired to push yourself away from him, so you welcome his embrace by relaxing your body.
Your head rests on his chest, rising up and down slowly and steadily.
“You did well, my love.” Ten says softly.
“Yeah..I guess I did, even after all the shit you put me through.”
Ten chuckles lightly then sighs. “That night of the Chinese festival..it was so long ago..and look at what has happened. We have been blessed with not one, but two healthy babies. How can we tell which is which?”
“Well, I’m sure it will be easier to differentiate between the two as they get older..”
“No, my love. How can we tell which child is mine..and which child is his?” Ten says slowly.
Your eyes open as you sit up straight and look at Ten.
“His? What are you talking about?”
Ten runs his fingers down your back and the look on his face makes your skin crawl, his eyes low as he daunts a proud smirk.
“I know about everything, my love. I know what you did last summer. I know that you had sex with Lucas several times...even on that same night that I lost you.”
Your mouth falls open, but Ten doesn’t give you a chance to speak, his hand still running up and down your back.
“And..I want you to know...I forgive you...whether or not they’re mine..I forgive you.” He kisses your cheek.
“I will raise them as my own, for you have just made me the happiest man on Earth.” He whispers into your ear.
“Ten..” your eyes still wide after the shock. Ten knew that you and Lucas were engaging in and affair, and he didn’t tell you until now. How was it that he was so calm? Why did he keep you alive after learning of your whereabouts that night?
“Everything is all right now. I love you, my darling. I love our children.” Ten nuzzles himself onto your neck and pulls you closer to him as he drifts off into sleep quietly.
Your eyes fill with tears, but you quickly wipe them away and remind yourself of the last letter Lucas sent you.
He said to meet him at the cherry tree next week at a specific time. That is when he will come to your rescue and take you and your kids away. You smile and close your eyes, dreaming once again of your love.
————
[One Week Later]
It is after midnight when you creep out of your chambers. Ten had once again disappeared but you didn’t care where he was. In fact, you are beyond thankful for his neglect tonight of all nights. This evening you and your babies would run away with Lucas.
The palace was basically dead. The servants were working downstairs on the first floor. Normally, you and Ten had the top floor to yourselves for the evening. If you ever needed to call for a servant, there was a bell that could be rung that could be heard across the residence.
It was the last thing you needed. You didn’t pack much into your small bag. You removed your sleepwear and put on a pair of pants and a loose-fitting shirt. You put a cloak over yourself and bundled your sleeping girls up in your arms. You prayed they stayed peacefully asleep. You ran away quickly, knowing it would be stupid to leave Ten a letter.
You run towards a servant’s exit to the gardens that were right outside of your bedroom. You knew that no one would cross paths with you up until this point. You let out a sigh of relief and looked down at the babies. They still slept peacefully. You smile down at them and exit through the gardens.
You enter past the schoolyard you once frequented, amazed and saddened at the sour turn your friendship with Ten and Lucas had taken. You spot the cherry blossom tree in the distance and see a man leaning against the back of it, a baby stroller right beside him. Lucas was already waiting for you and your heart swelled with happiness.
You say, “Lucas…”
As you get closer and closer, Lucas slowly turns over and you see…
Wait.
“Darling,” Ten starts with a wide smile on his face, “Fancy seeing you here of all places in the middle of the night. Quite careless of you to expose the girls to the elements so soon.”
You back away. What is he doing here? How did he know you were-
Ten clicks his tongue. “Were you expecting someone else?”
You are stunned to silence. You couldn’t think straight. Where was Lucas, you thought. Perhaps he was late. What if he was still on his way to the rendezvous point? And now that Ten was here, you wouldn’t be able to get away with Lucas. You hope Lucas is stealthy and he avoids detection. You could arrange another meeting time. Find another way to escape.
You try to make up an excuse. “I-”
Ten raises his arms. “Your arms must ache from carrying both of the girls. Allow me,” he says as he takes Yīngtáo.
He cradles her and continues, “What brings you here, y/n? You have one chance to answer honestly.”
His nurturing smile at his daughter fades as he looks at you. “Don’t test me.”
You sigh as you cradle Kāihuā. “I’m leaving, Ten.”
Ten laughs. “You are? Are you walking on foot with my daughters to the next town?”
You sigh. “Enough, Ten. I’m leaving. With Lucas. You have kept him and I apart for too long. This,” you say, “Is not a true marriage. If you loved me at all, you would let me go.”
He caresses your cheek. As quickly as you flinch, he removes his hand from you. “Oh, sweet, foolish y/n. How do you explain my presence in the cherry blossom tree? Exactly at midnight.”
“You must’ve followed me…” You start.
He smiles. “‘You will relieve me of my ties to this insane man and bring me to a paradise filled with true unconditional love, and we will live happily forever’.”
Your heart sinks as he reads the words you wrote to Lucas. Ten found one of your letters. Did that mean he got it before Lucas could receive it? But how, you wonder.
He pouts. “Insane? Me? Is that how you really think of me?”
You are tempted to snap at him but don’t want to alarm your babies. You take a deep breath and reply, “What would you call an unfaithful spouse who won’t let you go?”
He laughs. “You’re one to talk about infidelity.” He then coos as he looks at your daughter, “You are just as flawed as I am. That is why we are a perfect match, y/n.”
You scoff. “We are not meant to be, Ten. I’m leaving with Lucas. No matter what you say. Have us banished from the kingdom. Tell everyone you banished me. I’m sure your mother will be thrilled.”
Ten shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. That just won’t do. Where will you go?” He fakes concern in his voice.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” you say.
Ten continues to mock. “Well, it will be hard for you to go alone. Especially since Lucas won’t be joining you.”
Your stomach churns. “What are you talking about?”
He beams. “He will remain in the kingdom. In the most permanent sense, sweetheart.”
You frown in confusion and fear. “Ten, what-”
He continues, reveling in what he will share with you.
He recites, “‘Once the delivery is successful, I will pick you up and we will run away from this place together, raising our child in the sunniest place for the rest of our lives. We will finally be together, my love’.”
Ten also got a hold of Lucas’ letters to you. How long had he kept this hidden, you wondered. And your eyes widened at another realization.
Ten says, “Ah, y/n...y/n...You underestimate me. I must admit that hurts me deeply. Did you really think this charade would go unpunished?”
“Ten…What did you do?” You ask shakily.
————
[Flashback - JUNE 1896]
Lucas brushes Hazel’s mane at the Park Estate’s stables.
“Your Highness,” one of the servants calls to him.
He looks up at the servant and freezes up at the sight of Ten beside him.
“His Royal Majesty Ten Lee seeks an audience with Your Highness,” the servant says.
Lucas nods stiffly. “Thank you. You are dismissed.”
The servant departs and Ten stands there, an unreadable smile on his face.
“It’s been a long time...brother,” Ten begins.
Lucas steps away from Hazel and approaches his half-brother. “Your Majesty, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Ten replies, “I’ve missed our friendship.”
Lucas scoffs. “Have you now?”
Ten shakes his head. “Remember that I am your king, brother. I won’t tolerate you speaking down to me.” He nods his head over to his team of guards, which included the ever-hostile Hendery. Hendery flashes a condescending smile at Lucas.
Lucas was still nursing the cut under his chin that Hendery gave him from the first time he visited. Lucas chose not to mention anything to arouse suspicion from the Parks. When they inquired, he said that it was from a sparring incident and they all left it at that.
Ten continues, “Let’s go hunting.”
Lucas begrudgingly accepts and joins Ten and his men to go hunting in the nearby forest that Lucas was most familiar with. The two brothers take their bows and arrows to hunt for deer. It is a tense and quiet walk.
When they finally see targets, Lucas eases up and is thankful for the distraction.
Ten shoots at a deer in the distance but misses. The deer scurries off. He hisses.
Lucas can’t help a chuckle. Hunting was never Ten’s strong suit.
Ten turns to Lucas. “Something funny, Lucas?”
Lucas shakes his head, smiling. “You’re still terrible with a bow and arrow.”
Ten recalls the times he and Lucas went hunting when they were kids. He laughs. “I’m afraid so.”
Lucas had his reservations about Ten. He resented him for marrying you, cheating on you, neglecting you during your time of need, and keeping you away from him. But deep down, he still had affection for his best friend. That connection didn’t just go away, especially since they were actually bonded by blood. And part of him ached for Ten because soon, you and Lucas would leave and never see him again, your friendship permanently severed.
Lucas does his best to put on a good face. He and Ten regale about their adolescence and their shenanigans in the palace. Ten asks about Rosé and his time in the Park Estate. Lucas asks about the kingdom and how his reign is progressing. He even politely asks about you, acting like you two hadn’t spoken to each other since the festival. Ten replies that you are well and are expecting to deliver the baby sometime in October or November. Lucas pretends to not know this information.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty. A royal heir,” Lucas starts as he aims his arrow in search of a target.
Ten only watches Lucas now. “Indeed, y/n has made me the happiest man. The baby is just the beginning for us, Lucas.”
Lucas evens out his expression so Ten doesn’t catch onto his irritation. However, Ten knew what he was doing.
Ten continues as he readies his bow and arrow. “I think I’ve found my first kill for the day, brother...” He turns to Lucas, whose back is to him. Ten positions his arrow against the bow.
“Oh?” Lucas asks, oblivious, focused on finding deer.
“Take a look,” Ten says quietly. He closes one eye shut and focuses his aim.
As Lucas turns to face Ten, Ten releases the arrow, striking Lucas.
Very near to the heart, as Ten anticipated.
Lucas groans as he falls down to his knees. “What have you done?!” He quickly falls on his knees, blood seeping out of his wound. Lucas loses even more energy and falls to the ground, face first.
Ten walks over to Lucas. Lucas slowly crawls away, attempting to evade his hunter. “You know, I had my doubts about today. Coming to see you, inviting you to the forest, and making you the prize of this hunt...But I can’t take any chances, Lucas. y/n belongs to me. It’s time for you to know that. Soon, she will see it, too.”
Lucas gasps heavily, “Help...me…”
Ten laughs. “Do you think anyone here is on your side, bastard?”
Lucas feels faint. He is about to lose consciousness, knowing that he is very near to his end. He was torn between wishing to be saved and ending his suffering. But through all of this, he could only think of you and his child. Tears fell from his eyes. He had to fight until the end. He continues to crawl but he is fading with each passing moment.
Ten barks, “Hendery, Doyoung, pick him up.”
Ten’s guards appear. Lucas can only see their shoes. Hendery and Doyoung pick Lucas up off of the ground. Hendery quickly pushes Lucas against the nearest tree. Lucas loses his breath at the harsh contact.
Hendery quickly pulls the arrow out of his chest and Lucas yells in agony. Hendery can’t help himself, pulling out a dagger and stabbing Lucas right in the heart, turning the dagger slowly and torturously.
Ten shakes his head. “You were supposed to wait for my order, Hendery.”
Hendery pulled his dagger out of Lucas’s bloody chest. He lets go of Lucas’s body. It falls to the ground like a chopped down tree, heavy but lifeless.
Hendery backs away and bows to Ten. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”
Ten nods. “Doyoung, prepare the crate. We’re going home, gentlemen.”
————
[Present - November 1896]
The twins slept in the carriage now.
“What did you do to him?” You whisper loudly, hot tears streaming down your face. You knew it in your gut that Ten got to Lucas.
“What had to be done, dearest,” Ten says.
“Where is he?” You ask, dreading his answer.
“Right underneath us,” Ten says as he looks down at the grass.
You slowly process his words. You look down to the ground and realize Lucas was buried right underneath the tree that started it all.
You stumble and fall to the ground. “No…”
Ten continues, “Lucas is dead, y/n.”
You shake your head. “Ten, you wouldn’t…”
He responds, “You were straying. I had to intervene.”
You refuse to listen. “You...are many things. You are not a killer.”
He finishes, “I would do anything for you, y/n.”
Images and memories of your true love flash into your mind. Lucas’s welcoming smile when he meets you the first time. The horseback riding. The first time you made love before Ten entered the room at the party. The days in Wanderlust. Your last night together at the festival. You sob, trying to control your volume. “No, no, no. Please, God, no...Ten, what-”
“I did it for us, angel,” Ten says as he bends down and raises your chin to look at him, adoring your gorgeous face as you weep.
You pull away. “You killed him...Ten, that’s an act of treason. You can’t get away with this.”
“I can. And I will, y/n.” He gets you up off of the ground. “Come along now. The girls will soon need to get fed again.”
You pull yourself away from Ten. “Don’t touch me. I will never let you touch me again.”
Ten laughs. “You would be smart to obey me, y/n. Or I will take the twins away from you.”
Tears staining your face, you grasp the stroller handle and your knuckles turn white. You want to lunge for your monstrous husband but know that regardless of your status as queen, Ten always had the last word. You knew he could take the girls away from you. He was as good (well as evil) as his word.
Ten leads you back to the palace. He offers to handle the stroller but you refuse to let go of your babies. They were your reason to continue living this never ending nightmare. It was up to you that they didn’t grow up to be like their “father”.
————
[DECEMBER 1896]
You silently mourn the death of Lucas, cursing at the heavens for taking away the most heavenly creature from you. The Park Estate and the Kingdom of Hearts have continued their search parties across the continent for Lucas. Ten, unironically, was at the forefront. He made sure they looked everywhere. The last place they would look was where Lucas’s remains laid: the cherry blossom tree.
The search teams were losing hope and Princess Rosé was inconsolable. Your heart ached for her as you knew the truth. So you did what you could and listened to her when she came to visit. You could not leave the palace under your concerned husband’s orders. You theorized that the pressure of becoming king overwhelmed him and he ran. That at the very least he was safe and starting a new life. You and Rosé knew that was a load of bullshit. Lucas would have at least sent a letter, apologizing. That was the kind of person he was.
You continue to nurse the babies. You channel all of your energy in taking care of them, checking in with Doctor Kun daily. You drink the best herbal teas. Your diet is consistent. You couldn’t starve yourself. Even if every bite of food was no longer savory, you continued to eat. You had to sustain yourself for the sake of your children. Ten is thrilled that you have invested all of your time as a mother, as you should’ve from the start.
If you allowed yourself to think about anything besides the well-being of your children, you knew your mind would wander to a dark place.
You are reading a book on motherhood in the library one day while the babies are napping. Seulgi comes to you.
“Your Majesty, a letter has arrived for you,” she says.
You shoot Seulgi a look as you take the letter. “Did His Majesty get a hand on this?”
Seulgi’s eyes widened at your hostility. “Your Majesty…”
You sigh. “I trusted in you, Seulgi...Ten got his hand on my personal letters. And I know he got to you.”
Seulgi panics. “I am so sorry, Your Majesty. I wanted to protect you but the king threatened the safety of my family.” Tears well up in her eyes. “If it were up to me, I would be fiercely loyal to you. Only you. But as long as the king reigns, I have no choice.”
You get up from your chair and put your hands on Seulgi’s forearms. “I know.”
Seulgi hiccups. “Your Majesty?”
You say, “I understand. You don’t have to worry. I know that you are a good person. You have always stood by me. You’ve taken a beating for me, for heaven’s sake. I still carry that with me to this day.”
Seulgi shakes her head. “I would do it again, Your Majesty. You have always been kind to me.” She had worked in the palace for over ten years, ever since she was a little girl. “Without you, the palace would be hell.”
You smile at Seulgi, “I appreciate that. And there’s no need to worry. The personal letters have ceased so if His Majesty inquires about the letters, you can hand them over…” You have given up on keeping secrets from Ten. He was right. You truly underestimated how vile he was.
Seulgi shakes her head. “His Majesty has not seen this letter, Your Majesty...And it’s better that he does not.” She bows.
You realize what she says and quickly dismiss her. You open the letter.
Dear y/n,
I am so sorry to write to you as you are still nursing your children. I congratulate you and your husband for the safe delivery of your daughters. I implore you: if you know anything that the palace has not admitted to the public about Prince Lucas’ whereabouts, please tell me. I fear that something terrible has happened. He wouldn’t have run away. He was committed to staying with the princess. He wouldn’t have disappeared without sending us a letter after the fact at the very least. I await your response.
Many blessings,
Kahei
Lucas’ mother and the rest of his family were also kept in the dark. Ten forbade you from reaching out to them again. It was a part of his threat to take the girls away from you. And even if you dared send them a letter, you feared for their safety and yours. You wondered just how long Ten would keep the charade up. He could easily have Lucas’s remains moved and found anywhere he commanded. Why keep everyone in the dark about his status? He was a sick man.
You complied with Ten’s orders but refused to lie in bed with him. You were thankful that the twins needed to be fed every few hours throughout the night, as well. Ten was displeased but he couldn’t deny you from protecting his daughters. For they were his daughters. Soon, they would be weaned and you two could get back on track, he thought. You needed time to forget Lucas and you would, he firmly believed.
Ten continued his affairs throughout the palace. It was a game to him: a game of where can I sleep with the help without my wife knowing. But he got sloppy sometimes as his lust overtook him more times than he could count. You caught him several times without detection and simply resumed your day. Ten fucked Miss Oral in the kitchen at 4 AM? Okay. Ten had an orgy with nine other servants in the garden? Ambitious. Ten kept that little tart Jade on after so many months? You were disappointed but not shocked.
It infuriated you but it wasn’t like you didn’t know the truth.
And then, the next blow was delivered.
————
[2 Weeks Later]
You finish eating dinner alone in your chambers. The twins are being bathed by the servants. Ten is away on another useless search party. It was like a pageant for him. The public would say, “The honorable king is unrelenting when it comes to searching for his lost childhood friend.” A touching story. You resisted the urge to punch a wall.
Seulgi hands you another letter. She bows and quickly leaves you to read in private.
My dear daughter,
I pray this letter finds you well. I don’t know if you have been receiving my letters as you have not responded. In case they have disappeared due to the distance, I should tell you that His Majesty has transferred us to the Western continent and we only just caught wind of your delivery. How we wish to meet our grandchildren. How your father wished it more than anything. y/n, I am so sorry to say this but your father has passed from tuberculosis. I miss him so much and I wish more than anything for us to be together to mourn him. We have buried him the day I write this to you. Please, if you receive this letter, send for me. Or come to me, if you can. I miss you and love you, always. Many blessings to you and my beautiful granddaughters.
Love,
Your Mother
You fall down to the floor and wail. Seulgi and Irene quickly run into the room, having been nearby cleaning the other rooms.
“Your Majesty, what’s wrong?” Irene asks.
Seulgi rubs your back. “Your Majesty…”
“My f-father,” you say between sobs, “H-he’s gone.” You shake yourself off of the two women. You shake your head as you look down at the two women.. “Did you two know?!”
Irene shakes her head. And so does Seulgi.
“Seulgi...Did. You. Know?!” You demanded as you took the glass pitcher of water and threw it to the ground, the glass shattering all over the marble floor. You stand there, barefoot.
“Your Majesty, don’t walk over the-” Irene starts.
You don’t care. Nothing could hurt as much as the pain you feel inside. Not only did you lose the love of your life. Your freedom. Your happiness. You lost one of the only people in your corner who had been stripped from you because of the king and that crone’s orders. You walk over the glass, the shards piercing your feet.
Seulgi runs over to you. “Your Majesty, stop. Irene, get the first aid kit immediately!”
Irene runs off to get the kit. Seulgi tries to put her arms around you.
You shrug her off and say quietly, “My father was dying and you mean to tell me no one knew?”
Seulgi shakes her head. “King Ten was always there when I collected your mail and I could never deliver their letters to you. That is the truth. Please, Your Majesty, you have to believe me.” She cries again. “If I had known...I would’ve told you. I-”
“Of course,” you stop her, “Of course, my beloved husband knew. That witch of a mother of his also knew...Those two will really stop at nothing to strip every person I love away from me.”
More servants rushed to your chambers.
You yell. “Leave! Get out! Run along and tell the king his queen is acting up if you haven’t already. In fact, I demand his presence. So go get him up from whatever bed he lies in and yank his dick off of whatever pussy it resides in.”
A couple of servants run to get the king, astonished at your behavior.
Seulgi and Irene quickly disinfect and bandage your feet. “We will call Doctor Kun to tend to your wounds this evening,” Irene says.
Ten returns, his hair disheveled and bites apparent on his neck.
You look up at your husband, who stands at the door in shock at the sight of you.
“Husband! How nice to see you!” You said as you laid your bloody feet up on the bed.
Ten only looks at you in dismay. “What happened to your feet? Who is responsible for this? I will have them-”
“Oh, shut up,” you start, “I did it.”
Ten looks at you in shock. Your eyes looked so lifeless, so defeated. He almost didn’t recognize you. “Why?” He asks, pathetically.
You show him the letter. “I got this letter before anyone else could get to it. I wanted to see how my parents were doing. Since you and your mother have moved them away from me, I figured it was about time I got an update, no?”
Ten sees the letter in your hand and turns to Seulgi.
“Do not take this out on any of our servants. This is between you and me. Now, I’ve received news of my father’s passing. That’s interesting...Do you know why? Probably because I never got news of his sickness, much less that you transferred them to the fucking western continent.”
Ten pushes past the servants and his shoes crush the broken glass into tinier pieces. “y/n, I was going to tell you but I wanted to ensure your safe delivery first and-”
You raise your hand. “You took them away from me. My parents. And now my father’s dead. You just couldn’t be the only one fatherless, could you?!”
“y/n, I will not allow you to-”
You cut him off. “I’ve had enough of your games, husband. I have been so damn complacent. Meanwhile, you’ve probably fucked every maid in this room…”
The female servants, apart from Irene and Seulgi, couldn’t meet your eye, confirming your thoughts.
“Am I a joke to all of you?” You ask everyone in the room. “If it weren’t for me, you would all be rotting in the dungeon because of His Majesty’s intolerance for ONE miniscule mistake.” You grab the glass of water on your nightstand and break it. You hold one sharp piece of glass.
Ten tries to calm you down. “y/n, I-”
You hold the piece of glass in your hand, quivering. “You will send for my mother and for my father’s casket. We will give them a proper burial in the kingdom. It is the least you can do, Your Majesty.”
Ten relents, fearing you for the first time. You simply needed time to digest the news and he would give it to you. He would abide by your wishes and bring your family back to the kingdom.
————
[JANUARY 1897]
Ten gave you the distance you needed. You didn’t give a damn where he was so long as he left you alone. Your mother arrived, along with your father’s casket. Your father was given a proper royal burial. Your friends of the family attended. Ten stood beside you and your mother. The crocodile tears were provided by Ten’s mother.
You were able to see your mother more as she moved back into your childhood home. She helped you take care of the twins.
The time apart from Ten gave you more time to think.
Perhaps you weren’t as trapped as you thought.
Your animosity faded for you still had appearances to maintain. Ten believed you to forgive him for his indiscretion with your father. Like there was nothing else to be forgiven.
Ten continues lazing around with the servants but his favored servant remains to be Jade. Jade slowly gets it into her head that she can one day get rid of you and take your place. Ten never planned for that. You were number one in his heart.
Ten and Jade lie together in a bedroom in the first floor west wing of the palace.
“I love you, Your Majesty,” Jade whispers into his ear as she snuggles herself closer to him.
Ten only grunts, imagining you to say those words again. How he longed to hear your words of affection directed towards him again.
Suddenly, his heart and abdomen grow bigger. “J-Jade, I...I feel ill. Hand me a glass of water,” he starts.
Jade gives him a glass of water and he downs it. The pain he feels only worsens. It felt like he was being eaten from the inside out. All over his body. He starts roaming his hands all over his naked body, trying to feel for what is gnawing at him.
“Ahhh,” Ten yells out in pain. “Jade, there is something wrong with me.”
“Your Majesty!” Jade yells as she gets out of bed. “I will call the doctor.”
Jade runs out the door. Ten lies in bed, his body burning from the gnawing sensation he feels inside. What was wrong with him, he thought. An hour or so passes and Jade still has not returned.
“Jade!” Ten calls out. “Anyone!” His voice has fallen weak. He cannot move because the pain is too agonizing.
The door opens and you enter. “Why, hello Ten.”
You look absolutely radiant. Better than you have looked in months. You are beaming with a joy he had never seen you have. You wore a green ball gown, like you were ready to tend to visiting royals. You hadn’t dressed up this nicely since you conceived the twins.
“I ran into that little tramp of yours and she told me you were ill so I thought I would come tend to my poor, poor husband…” You coo, mimicking the way he patronized you for so long.
“Darling! Please help me, I am in pain. Get the doctor,” he grunts out word for word.
You sigh. “Now why would I do that?”
He looks at you with wide eyes. “Wh-”
You sit on the bed beside him, increasing his discomfort at the sudden movement of the bed. “Now if only Jade was around...She would’ve called the doctor for you. She would do nothing short of murder for you if you wished it. But...Jade is indisposed. In the most permanent sense, sweetheart.”
“y/n-” Ten starts.
“You two enjoyed rolling around in the hay so much...So I thought it fitting that she’d die the way she would enjoy most.”
Ten looks up at you in horror as you ruffle his hair.
You finish, “Consumed by the earth itself.”
Ten cries out. “y/n, help...me...Please…”
You quickly get off of the bed. “It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?” You ask.
Ten is furious but his pain overpowers any emotion. He only cries. He doesn’t have the words.
“Are you familiar with the Gu poison?” You ask, softly.
Ten’s eyes widen at the word “poison”.
You continue. “It is incredible how it’s created. You see, venomous snakes, scorpions, and centipedes are collected into a jar. They have to fight each other for survival and ultimately devour each other. The last creature standing holds a concentrated toxin. The toxin has no taste so someone can easily slip it into your supper and you would never know it was laced with poison. It takes up to ten days for it to act. And look now, on our dear old friend Lucas’ birthday, the poison has taken effect. It was meant to be this day.”
“You bitch-” Ten spurts out.
You check your nails and shut the curtains. “Do you really want our last moments together to be so full of hatred?”
You tie one of his silk ties around his mouth. He thrashes about but you overpower him. You take the other silk ties and tie them around his arms.
“You must want to know what it feels like to be tied up, don’t you? You certainly loved doing it to me,” you continue.
Ten continues to writhe in pain. He feels himself slowly fading. It was torture. He would much rather get stabbed in the heart. Any death must have been better than this feeling: he felt like he was being eaten alive. Tiny little creatures were gnawing at him from the inside. He wanted to rip his flesh open and take the critters out.
You sigh. “My father’s death was the final straw, Ten. I wanted to kill you the moment you told me Lucas was six feet under the cherry blossom tree but you had me under your thumb. I’m not going to take it anymore, dearest.”
Ten cries. “y/n, please...I will do anything...Please save me…”
You say, “You promised a lot of things to me. But you failed me. Time and time again. Fucking anything that moved. And I can’t take this anymore. I was ready to leave. You could have let me go and still laid with any woman you wanted. But no...You wanted to possess me...like some doll. And you killed Lucas, the true love of my life. You and your mother have pulled the strings of our lives for too long. This is the end.”
Ten manages to say, “y/n-“
“I have had it, Ten,” you say. “I know where the antidote is but I’m afraid it is impossible for me to get it now.”
Ten cries. “No…”
You sigh. “It’s buried with that harlot. Such a pity. She really left you in the lurch, didn’t she?”
That was how you planned to spin it. Jade, the jealous servant, who wanted to take your place, threw herself into a jealous rage and poisoned the king. You had her confession letter prepared very nicely. You wondered if you hired the same scribe who Ten hired to imitate Lucas’ handwriting. Either way, that scribe kept their mouth shut when they saw the fire in your eyes.
Ten cries loudly but his screams are muffled by the silk tie.
“Now, I would be with you during your final breaths but that wouldn’t look good for me, would it? You certainly wouldn’t want me to take the fall for a crime that the commendable Jade committed?”
Tears stream down your face now as you finally release your suppressed emotions. “You brought this on yourself, husband. All of this. You’ve brought me to this point with each betrayal. Now accept the consequences.” You walk out of the room, not a servant in sight.
Ten lies in bed and thrashes around, his eyes red and teary with angry veins as he screams loudly. Unfortunately, no one hears him because his rendezvous points with his multitude of lovers were always away from the majority of servants.
All he felt was agony. Surely, any death would’ve been better than this. His heartbeat dwindled and his last thought before he succumbed to his death was of you being taken by him the very first time at the graduation party.
————
[Three Days Later]
The Kingdom of Hearts was once again in mourning. The people mourn the death of King Ten. He was a strong presence, just like his father. The young King was destined to expand the kingdom and its wealth, but his life was cut short due to poisoning. Found by you, his dead body was found in the west wing, tied up. You found a letter from one of your servants, confessing to the crime. She was in love with His Majesty. She quickly disappeared with the night. Now, there was a bounty for her head and her family was under watch in case she returned or made contact with them.
His Royal Majesty is survived by you, his wife, the Queen, and your twin daughters, Princesses Yīngtáo and Kāihuā.
The funeral procession was beautiful. People from all over the continent gathered to pay their respects for the fallen king. Flowers from all over the continent were tossed over his casket. He was laid to rest in the Royal Cemetery beside his father.
Ten’s mother was inconsolable. She lost her husband and her son. You were also inconsolable. You wept and wept. Nothing was holding you back from mourning who you've lost.
You lost a lot in a matter of months. You lost Lucas. You lost your father. Hell, you lost Ten a long time ago. Nearly everything you once treasured vanished in the blink of an eye.
You could finally let it all out and it worked to your benefit. No one would dare suspect you of foul play. Not even former Queen Lee.
You had tea with her after the procession.
“y/n, you really loved my son,” she says between sniffles.
You sip your tea, feeling calmer now. It took her so long to realize that you weren’t the wretch she thought you to be. But maybe that was just her spiked tea speaking. She would probably return to hating you, tomorrow
Or would she?
You are the sole ruler of the kingdom now. Until you marry again. Then again, who said you had to marry again? There was no official law that mandated you to.
The queen was complacent now because you were in charge. It was in her best interest to be on your good graces.
But after years of enduring her insults and for her hand in omitting to tell you about your father's illness, you were afraid that that was no longer an option.
“Mother,” you begin, “You should know that the little slag Jade was not responsible for your son’s death.”
Ten’s mother nearly drops her cup of tea as she shakily puts it down.
She openly glares at you now. “What are you saying, y/n?”
“Do you really think Jade was smart enough to get the poison to put into Ten’s supper? There is only one thing she excelled at and it was fucking your son. He loved to fuck her like the little whore he was.”
The queen got up from the table and was about to grab you. “You take that back, you little wretch.”
You refused to cower away from this crone. Her baby boy was no longer there to shield her now. You had the power.
She is about to slap you but you grab her arm. She tries to wriggle out of your grasp.
“I poisoned your son, Mother. I exterminated that beast before he hurt me again. He fucked all of the servants behind my back. He killed Lucas. He lied about my father.”
“You’re the damned beast,” she says as she spits in your face. She bawls. “My baby...What have you done?!”
You don’t flinch. You take a napkin and wipe away the spit from your face. “It is not in your benefit to defy me, Mother…”
“Shut up, you insolent wench,” the Queen removes herself from your grasp and attempts to lunge for you. You trip her to the ground.
You continue, “I have to wonder...how much you knew…”
Ten’s mother opens her mouth and closes it immediately. It is all in her eyes.
“You hag,” you say, “I’ll take that as a confirmation of my suspicions.”
You place your foot over her back so she can’t get up. “Does the term Gu poison ring any bells?”
The queen’s eyes widen in shock as she looks up at you.
You add, “I believe you tried to poison Lucas’ mother that way once upon a time…”
“How did you know-“
“Surely, Ten brought you up to speed on my visits to Wanderlust. In fact, I’m sure you were the first person prepared to set the town ablaze so long as Kahei burned, didn’t you?”
“Don’t mention that whore’s name in my palace!” Ten’s mother pushed herself and yanked you by the leg so you stumble.
Seulgi runs in. “Your Majesty, are you alright?”
You regain your footing and you kick the woman’s legs away.
The former Queen barks at Seulgi. “You were outside this whole time, girl? The queen is at her wit’s end. Someone needs to detain her!”
Seulgi stands there, awaiting your orders.
Ten’s mom grabs Seulgi by the arm. “What are you doing, you worthless fool? This woman poisoned the king. She admitted it. Arrest her.”
Seulgi shakes herself off of her. “You must be hearing things, madam. It must be from your age.”
Ten’s mother was an irritable crone. One of her biggest triggers was any mention of her age.
“Girl,” Ten’s mom begins again about to yank Seulgi by the hair. She quickly backs up.
Seulgi speaks up, “I’ve served this household since I was thirteen years old. You have never called me by my name. You have beaten my mother more times than I count. You have paid my family insufficiently. Your abuse and condescension made you an unfitting Queen. Your son was the spitting image of you in terms of how he treated the staff. The minute news came of his passing, I breathed a sigh of relief. Because Queen y/n is now in charge. She cares about her people and her servants. Unlike. You.”
Ten’s mother yells, “Insolent vermin, you are!”
Seulgi bows. “I will be outside the door if you need anything, Your Majesty.” She leaves you with the Queen.
Ten’s mother grew more livid. “You have turned the help against me, have you not?”
You shrug. “A little kindness goes a long way, Mother. It’s unfortunate neither you or your son have possessed it.”
Ten’s mother is about to lunge at you again when she clams up and clutches her chest.
“y/n...my heart…” Ten’s mother falls over. You simply stand there.
After a few minutes, you tell Seulgi to alert the servants that the queen suddenly died of a heart attack. It was sudden and as you and Seulgi tried to get her up, it was too late.
————
[February 1897]
Ten and his parents were united in death. Now that they were out of the picture, it was time to announce the findings of Lucas’ remains. It just so happened that you found a letter in Ten’s study, confirming his instructions to bury Lucas under the cherry blossom tree.
It turned out the scribe you hired before had indeed worked with Ten. The scribe had also imitated Ten’s handwriting rather well.
Princess Rosé was beside you as the servants uncovered Lucas’ remains.
Lucas’ body was decomposed a long time ago. But specialists confirmed that his body was severed into many pieces, like he was a piece of meat.
You and Princess Rosé cried together. You felt some of your guilt leave your body. Now Rosé could move on, just as she rightfully deserved.
You two had dinner and then walked around the palace grounds together.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, y/n,” she says as she sniffles.
You squeeze her hand as you walk together. “Thank you for everything, Rosé. You’ve been my rock throughout this whole process.”
It was true. Although you and Lucas had cheated, you never harbored any negative feelings toward Rosé. She didn’t know that you and Lucas were in love when he entered the arranged marriage with her. She was never malevolent. She trusted her husband and believed the best of him. She protected him at the festival when she knew he had run off God-knows-where. It was unfair to her.
You wished you could keep your distance from her because you didn’t want to keep living a lie with her.
“I know you and Lucas met the night of the festival, y/n…” She admits as you walk through the rose garden.
You stop in your tracks.
Rosé hasn’t let go of your hand, even after admitting this. “Originally, when he disappeared, I thought he’d run away to meet with you…”
You listen to her, afraid to say something that will anger her.
But Rosé, ethereal and gentle, looked at you, calm. There was sadness in her eyes. “I know he loved you.”
You cry, about to apologize like you wanted to for so long. “Rosé, I-“
She says solemnly, “I know…When I realized you never ran away to meet him, I realized that something was wrong. As much as you two hurt me, I...couldn’t stop loving Lucas. When we were together, he was so kind, y/n. He just pulls you in with those eyes and that smile. You know this more than anyone.”
You nod shyly. “I do.”
“I would’ve let you two run off. You would’ve had to evade my vengeful family for all of your days but at least, you would’ve been together.”
You weep, astonished at Rosé’s kindness. “You...I don’t deserve your kindness.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t. But you need it more than ever.”
You two hug and continue your walk. You make it to the weaponry room near the stables where you overhear some of the guards drinking.
“A toast to our fallen king,” a man begins.
“To our fallen king,” the other men continue.
“Now we are subject to the whims of His Majesty’s unhinged wife,” the first man continues.
The men matter and some laugh, making derogatory comments about you. How they would still bed you, regardless of how insane you were.
You and Rosé eye each other in confusion and quietly move closer. The men sit at a table with a box of spirits.
The first man you recognized as the head of the army, Hendery. “At least, the Queen cannot fuck that prince again. His Majesty saw to it.”
Your heart clenches as do your fists.
The guards clink their bottles together. “Hear, hear.”
Hendery continues, “And I ended him with that final blow, didn’t I?”
The guards cheer. As you hear this news, you carefully scan the room. You recognize all of the guards. None of them appeared to be shocked at the news. You wondered how many of these men were present the day of Lucas’ murder.
Rosé scares you then. Her complacent nature had completely shattered. She grips the wood of the room tightly as her knuckles whitened.
You still didn’t have the full details of what happened the day Lucas died. But it seemed the Lord had smiled down at you and decided to give you the truth.
Hendery commands the room, only stumbling every now and then from how inebriated he was. “His Majesty shot him like any deer in that forest. Very near to the heart. His Majesty had improved greatly in his archery skills. He was able to put it to practice, at the very least.”
He continues as the men’s cheers become all muttered and incoherent from the alcohol.
“And then Doyoung and I picked up his body and pushed him against a tree. And I stabbed him really neatly in the heart. And now, no more Lucas.” He laughed.
Rosé pulls you away now. “y/n, he must be punished.”
You open your mouth in disbelief. “What?”
Rosé retorts, “I know you had a hand in Ten’s death. So why should this be any different?”
“What?” You ask her. How the hell did she figure it out?
“Lucky guess.” She shrugs. “Your reaction was the confirmation I needed.”
Sweet Rosé was not to be underestimated you thought. She could be as cold and calculating as the next person.
“Come on,” she goaded, “You want to end his pathetic existence as much as I do.”
Of course you did. It was all you could think about the minute he admitted to fatally stabbing Lucas.
You shake your head. “You can be better than me, Rosé. I can do this on my own.”
Rosé takes your hand and leads you to the stables. “Your hands already have enough blood on them. Let me take some of that burden.”
You protest more but Rosé won’t have it. The gears in her head were moving a mile a minute and you had no idea what she had in store for Hendery.
A few hours passed and the men slowly left the weapons room. Hendery, to your and Rosé’s luck, remained behind.
A sad excuse of a human being, you thought. He was a bully in high school. Belittled the women around him. It blew your mind that he married and procreated.
You would see to it that his family is taken care of when he is gone.
Princess Rosé awaited him. “Commander,” she began.
Hendery stumbles and upon seeing Princess Rosé, he gives her a lewd smile. “Your Highness, what are you doing here alone so late at night? It’s dangerous for a princess to be unattended.”
She plays him. “I’ve never felt so safe, having the commander of the royal army with me.”
Hendery slides his arm around her, groping her bottom. Rosé flinches and hides her distaste.
Hendery replies, “Allow me to escort you back to the palace.”
Rosé shakes her head. “Actually, there is one place I wanted to go. With you.”
Hendery smiles wide, like he’d successfully gotten the biggest kill in a hunt
Rosé leads him to the stables, where you wait in the shadows.
You trip Hendery as he walks in. “Wha-“ He starts.
He groans in pain as you quickly tie rope tightly around his right leg.
“What are you-who is that?” Hendery asks, dazed.
“It’s His Majesty’s unhinged wife, of course,” you say, echoing his words back at him.
Hendery sobers up as you bring a lamp close to your face. “Y-your Majesty?!”
Rosé takes the other end of the rope to an occupied stable, where Lucas’ horse Hazel resides for her visit.
She greets Hazel quietly and Hazel nuzzles her, trusting her completely. It seemed Hazel had added Rosé into her circle of trust. Rosé ties the other end of the rope around Hazel’s left hind leg.
“Alright, girl,” she whispers, “We’re going to go for a ride.”
Hendery panics as he sobers up even more. “What are you doing?”
You swiftly bind him with rope so he can’t use his arms. “That’s for you to find out, commander.”
Hendery is about to speak up by you bind his mouth shut as well.
Rosé gets up on Hazel. “y/n, will you join us?”
You nod. “I’m ready.”
You get up on Hazel and sit behind Rosé. She spurred Hazel forward with her heels. Hazel starts off slowly, moving out of the stables.
Hendery feels his body move forward as the rope pulls him.
You and Rosé ignore Hendery’s protests. Rosé beckons for Hazel to run faster. You make it to the grassy field where the horses can ran freely. Hendery already suffers burns from the traction. Hazel has trampled him a couple of times now. He is losing consciousness.
Rosé pulls her last trick and pulls the reins back to stop Hazel and Hendery’s body slips right under and she steps right over him. Spooked, she tramples him even more.
“Well?” Rosé asks you.
You get off of Hazel and check on Hendery.
His body lied there, bruised, lifeless. His right leg was positioned awkwardly having broken a mile back, at the very least.
“He’s dead,” you confirm.
You and Rosé already planned to pin the murder on Doyoung, for he was just as responsible for Lucas’s death. Doyoung wanted to overthrow Hendery for a while and the guards confirmed it when questioned.
Doyoung was sentenced to death by decapitation.
Rosé returned to the Park Estate. You both continued your friendship, retiring from your murderous tendencies. As you have avenged the man you loved.
————
[June 1897]
Months have passed and the kingdom celebrated their beloved Queen’s birthday. You were still in mourning but everyone was relieved to see your enchanting smile again. The kingdom had a strong and capable leader in you.
As the citizens adored you, the palace staff grew to respect you. No whispers of “simpleton Queen” ever slipped from their mouths again. Most respected you. The skeptical ones feared you. No one dared to defy you now so long as they treated you with respect.
Seulgi had always been your most loyal servant so you elevated her position in the household. She and her family could live comfortably, as well. You made sure all of your trusted servants received fair payments.
You tracked down Miss Oral and the other servants who Ten fucked around with. Just as they themselves were loose, their lips were even looser. You dismissed them all from the palace. As for Jade’s family, you pardoned them for they didn’t sleep with your husband multiple times.
As for the guards who knew about Lucas’ murder, you had them dishonorably charged from the army. Most of them were slackers anyway, uncommitted to protecting the kingdom. They only cared about their titles. You needed to hire truly honorable men for the army and you knew just the right person to lead the new wave.
You welcomed Kahei and her family to move into the kingdom. They lived next to your mother and became friends. Only you and your mother knew of the actual identity of Lucas’s family. To everyone else, you claimed them to be distant relatives that you looked out for. Kahei and her family were also given the royal treatment. In a matter of time, you would let them join you in the palace, where they rightfully belonged. Beside you.
Yangyang was in the running to be the next commander of the royal army, outranking several of the other guards, much to their dismay. You knew it was a matter of time before he was given the official title.
Rosé visited you from time to time. You have become close friends, much to the shock of the public. It was believed that mourning the loss of your husbands brought you closer together.
If they only knew the true hell you both endured.
You had no plans to remarry. Your heart remained with Lucas. Even if there were only memories left. Lucas was buried, per his family’s wishes, in his summer home in Wanderlust. You told Rosé about Lucas’ true origins and instead of punishing you and his family, she befriended all of you. You, the twins, Rosé, and Lucas’ family went to visit Lucas’ grave and decorated it with flowers.
It was a bittersweet summer. You were in Wanderlust with Lucas, just not in the way either of you had hoped for. You knew he was with you in spirit and just like Kahei told you the first time you visited her, you two could meet again in the next life.
Hopefully, without the menacing presence that also lingered in your memories. Ten must have been an evil incubus that escaped hell, but you hoped that you sent him back to suffer, eternally.
Fin.
#wayv ten#wayv au#wayv lucas#ten x you#ten x reader#lucas x you#lucas x reader#wayv smut#nct smut#ten smut#lucas smut#wayv yukhei#wayv x you#yukhei smut#nct angst#wayv angst#nct prince au#nct royal au#nct romance#nct boyfriend#wayv boyfriend#wayv moodboard#nct moodboard#wayv ff#nct ff#nct x reader#nct x you#wayv x reader#wayv scenario#wayv series
289 notes
·
View notes
Text
ceo chronicles. pt iii ~ wanda maximoff
series summary: a set of fics based off of the main au of sugar baby/mommy or daddy dynamics and ceo aus. each fic involves a separate universe wherein each character is the ceo of a different company and you’re their sugar baby. sexy times ensue.
fic summary: something goes very, very wrong at one of wanda’s business dealings. you are left to help her pick up the pieces - no matter what that means.
pairing: wanda maximoff x reader
words: 2398
trigger warnings: possessive wanda, anger-fucking, collars, spreader bars, riding crop, ball gags
notes/other: this was done for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘s “old hollywood” writing challenge, my prompt was “Must I always wear a low cut dress to be important?” - Jean Harlow and has been bolded within the fic!
ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi
Wanda storms into the penthouse, her stiletto heels clacking against the dark, hardwood floors.
She’s angry, furious – and whether or not it’s aimed at you doesn’t matter, your heart picks up in your chest either way.
“That two-timing sun of a bitch!” she screams, throwing her purse on the ground. Her coat follows shortly.
You watch her, eyes wide in terror, as you stand in the kitchen. She bought the place for its open floor plan and, initially, you had liked it too.
Now, though, with nothing to hide behind, you regret not going with the more closed space in SoHo.
“That motherfucker undersold me,” she screams, standing in place as she yells to no one in particular. “He told me the piece was worth one point two fucking million, and it sells for less than a hundred fucking thousand!”
Oh fuck. If you weren’t scared out of your goddamn mind before you sure are now.
There are two things in this world no one should fuck with when it comes to Wanda’s possessions:
The first is you.
Once, a man accidentally brushed against you at a gallery opening and Wanda nearly bit him – throwing red wine on his white shirt and screaming at him to leave.
Once he was out of her sight, she dragged you to the nearest bathroom, leaving a deep hickey high enough on your neck that you couldn’t hide it before making you show it off to the guests for a few more hours.
The second, is her money.
It’s not that Wanda’s not charitable, far from it; she claims millions on her taxes every year.
It’s just that she’s in charge of those things. She decides who gets what and when, she controls when her Black card is used and why. When people promise to bring her a certain amount of profit, they better fucking deliver, or else…this happens.
This meaning her getting so mad she looks like she could cause wildfires. All those earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, everything – those aren’t tectonic plates, no, they’re something much more powerful.
Wanda’s anger can move mountains, make species go extinct.
And, most important by far, it can make you shake in fear.
“That fucker, I should have known when he asked that I wear some fucking,” you can hear the venom in her voice, spitting over everything as she grabs the Stoch – the nice stuff, from the lockbox deep in the cupboard. She throws the bags of junk food – the chips you like and the cookies she loves – across the kitchen before stabbing in the code with her perfectly manicured nails. She doesn’t speak until she’s had two sips straight from the container, face wincing slightly before she sets it back on the counter. “To wear some fucking slip to the meet up, as if he needed to see me in anything at all! Ugh!” she scoffs, taking another long swig. “Must I always wear a low-cut dress to be important?”
You don’t reply, staying silent and inert as what could be the scariest thing unfolds in front of you.
Out of nowhere, she stills, taking exactly three, ten-second-in and ten-second-out breaths. It’s after that that she steps over to the large navy-blue sectional, sitting on it with her feet flat on the floor.
“Get on your fucking knees,” Wanda hisses.
You drop to the floor without hesitation, petrified.
Wanda watches you intently for a moment, jaw clenching as she moves to sit on the couch, feet flat against the floor. She pats her right hand against her right knee twice, and you immediately understand what she wants.
You fall across her knees, one arm grabbing her ankle while the other folds behind your back for her to grab – each action desperate to be obedient, to try to throw a fire blanket over the ravenous, burning thing that’s overtaken her.
There’s very little warning before she’s pulled the sundress up and bunching it into your fist, giving you little warning before leaving a slap against your ass – barely covered by the flimsy cotton underwear.
She ignores you, when you cry out, ignores you when tears begin to stream from your eyes and when blood spills from your bottom lip when it gets caught between your teeth.
It isn’t until your ass feels like it’s been branded when she lets up, inadvertently giving you a moment to breathe as she clenches her fists in front of her.
“It’s not enough!” Wanda screams, pushing you onto the floor. You fall against the wood hard, making you cry out in pain as she stomps away. “It’s not enough! Why isn’t it enough!”
Through the ringing in your ears you can hear her in the bedroom, the distinct sound of a six-bolt padlock being clicked open ricocheting in your eardrums. The only thing locked with that sort of hardware is the chest Wanda keeps all your kink-related items in, separating into layers by the degree of play.
It starts light at the top; blindfolds and a few cute collars with equally cute pet names engraved onto small heart-shaped nameplates. One of them is even diamond-encrusted, PROPERTY OF WANDA spelled out in bold print across pink faux leather. You can picture them even as your brain becomes fuzzy, can see them vividly against a distinct white velvet Wanda picked out especially.
The second layer, and the third (due to the size of the collection) are dildos, vibrators, butt plugs of more sizes and varieties than you can count. You can hear her removing those two shelves hastily, tearing through the rest of the box until she gets to the last level, the one you fear the most:
They’re rarely used, only barely broken in. A spreader bar Natasha got Wanda as a gag gift about a year ago. A riding crop Wanda bought at a kink convention awhile ago on an intoxicated whim. A thick collar meant for posture made of pure, soft leather and a solid gold latch. And, lastly, a fine leather ball gag, deep and black and beautifully handmade.
All four of them stiff and mean, just like Wanda in times like these.
She calls you into the bedroom with a shout, smiling when she hears you rushing from your felled position in the living room.
You can see the last fleeting moment of it when you cross the threshold, see that her anger has an end and this is not some permanent fixture in your still-budding relationship.
“Down,” she says simply, and you drop, sitting back on your heels.
Your hands remain palms-down on your thighs with your spine straight as one of those expensive paintings that decorate so many of the walls in the place you and her call home.
It stays that way – your spine parallel to the walls – as the collar is dangled in front of your eyes before being secured around your neck.
“Too tight?” Wanda asks, emotionless.
You shake your head as she sticks two fingers, the pads pressed into the soft skin of your neck. “Good.”
The ritual is repeated for the ball gag, the toy wrapped around your head and subsequently checked for fit.
She then instructs you to get on the bed, perpendicular to her as you lay on your back. You can’t see it – but the rustling and distinct clacking sound of metal pieces moving together can tell you she’s grabbing the very toys you’re terrified of the most.
The plain white ceiling gives you something to stare at, to fixate on as you feel the soft leather cuffs tightening before being checked. It’s almost sweet – the little ritual – if it didn’t immediately lead to your imminent torture.
You can feel her stepping back, heated eyes raking up your body slowly, surely. She watches carefully as your cunt pulses under her heated gaze, watches each muscle twitch as you anxiously await her next move.
Wanda looks at you the same way you think starving lionesses look at zebras separated from the safety of their heard. Her eyes zero in on her pulsing cunt, watching for the perfect moment to-
SMACK!
The riding crop comes down quick against your center, a sharp pain causing a fiery heat to spread up your ribs and down to your toes.
“Does that hurt, baby?” Wanda coos, twirling the end of the crop between the fingers of her nondominant hand.
You nod, trying desperately to gasp for air as drool spills out of the sides of your mouth. “Mmm,” is all you can get from behind the plastic. “Hngf.”
Wanda just laughs down at you, smacking the end light enough not to hurt but hard enough to tease you.
“Aw, my pretty little thing,” a faux pout paints itself across her face. “Such a sensitive baby.”
You whine, overwhelmed and desperate and oh so desperate to press your thighs together for any kind of pressure where you need it most. But no, of course not. Wanda wants to see you struggle, looks down at you with a smirk playing across her lips as you twist and beg, hoping she’ll find it in herself to give you mercy.
Given how the hours previous had gone, though, you doubt she’ll give you any.
“I’m going to give you one of these,” Wanda snaps the crop against your left inner thigh and smirks when you yelp. “For each hundred thousand I lost today.”
You do the mental math – whole body tensing. Nineteen. You’re about to get whipped nineteen times with a toy you haven’t broken in…
Shivers run up your spine and each muscle in your body tenses – whether in fear or anticipation, you don’t know and don’t really care to find out.
The first one comes down against the same inner thigh as before, sure to leave angry hot welts that will need constant care in the next few days. The second goes against the opposite side – skin previously untouched now screaming.
The third and forth are against your hips, fifth and sixth hitting just above your knees.
You lose count after that, mind numb as your wetness pools onto the freshly cleaned comforter. Between your racing heartbeats and the blood in your ears you assumed Wanda had finished with you, but coming to for a breath of fresh air only makes to bring the final blow – this time against your cunt.
With the gag the only sounds that reverberate off the walls come from deep in your chest, screams remnant of a horror experienced from another room. Wanda smiles as she watches you squirm as sparks of pain jump across your center and thighs.
There a few moments of silence as your panting curbs to low breaths, giving you a moment for recovery as your vision clears and the ringing in your ears stops.
It’s only then that Wanda gets up, trailing her fingertips across your sweaty skin as she walks past you.
“C’mon kitten,” she murmurs, stepping out of sight and back towards the chest of toys. “Let me make you feel good…”
Your brow furrows in confusion, pulling weakly at the restraints until you hear a plug being insert into an outlet, and the distinct sound of a long, long cord being unraveled.
The sound of the vibrator makes you groan in anticipation – ecstatic and terrified of how Wanda will use it on you. If she thinks you’ve been good, maybe she’ll be nice – get you off with it pressed against your clit with three of her fingers buried deep inside of you.
Or, if she remains unsatisfied with your performance, she could keep you just on the edge or pushing you over it until your begging meets expectations or she gets bored enough to stop.
As the head is pressed to your clit you nearly scream with relief – the soft vibrations and even softer words hitting you like droplets during the first rainstorm after dry season. It washes over you, coating your skin in delicious relief as your buck your hips and cry out.
Each word, each scream, remains muffled by the sphere in your mouth, but Wanda coos down at you nonetheless.
“Such a pretty little girl you are,” she says, watching you with the same hawkish gaze as before. It feels more reserved, though, as if she was watching over you rather than attempting to pin you down. “Such a pretty little girl for me.”
She climbs over you, then, never letting the toy leave your body as she pulls your head into her lap. Wanda looks down at you as you fall apart, watches you with eagle eyes as you cum.
As the initial waves of pleasure subside, you sigh in relief.
That is, until the head of the toy is pressed to your center once more. The next orgasm, and the one after that, and the one after that and-
They’re nearly painful as they hit you like a spray of bullet, like you’re being tased. You’re crying and doing your best to wail as you writhe around, Wanda cradling your face the entire time.
Your brain is numb when Wanda decides you had enough, whole body limb in her arms when she switches the soaked toy off.
She unties you with quick fingers, allowing you to slump against her as she takes off the rest of the restraints that litter your body.
“Rest up,” she tells you plainly as you nuzzle into her side. “I’m still pissed.”
You smile into the bare skin of her ribs, leaving a small kiss on the warm skin. Despite her tone, you can tell there’s not much behind it – fury that had settled just beneath her skin long dissipated into something she can save for the next time that man dares show his face in her presence.
There’s a pause once you stop adjusting, a heavy beat of silence that neither of you feels a need to fill. It’s a long while before either of you says anything, and even then the words are quite soft-spoken despite the two of you being the only ones in the large house.
“I love you, you know that, right?” Wanda whispers into your hair.
You give a small nod, unable to move because of the soreness attacking each of your muscles. “Yeah,” you mumble, voice equally low. “Yeah. I love you, too. Do you know that?”
Wanda smiles. “Yeah, yeah. I do.”
#roosoldhollywood#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff fanfiction#lukis writes stuff#writing challenge entries
652 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
luil7
Sh
bergamotmandarin
welcome gnome
crackships-osc
Crackship Chaos
lindspau
my p-lace
stratins
Deja vu.