#and they were all sleek and black. except for when the company turned them bright pink | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

binniedeactivated · 3 years

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The King’s Princess. ||soobin 💦

╰─▸🖤❝ @[𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈.. ] ✎𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝒙 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌!𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 ✎ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆,𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕¡ ✎ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕; 2.3𝒌

[@𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆] 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇…

-ˏˋ🖋“𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒆?”. ˎˊ-

“we don’t want to hear it anymore soobin. you’re going to be arranged with someone rich, sweet, skinny and pretty. and that’ll be the end of it”. her sweet yet sassy tone flared among the walls of the house, voice fluttering with beauty yet her tongue was sharper than razor blades. As the Queen it was her every right to be. A frown flickered at her vibrant red lips and her bright brown eyes burned holes into her son’s face.

“mother I just think things should be different”. soobin argued back, shifting his food to multiple sides of his platinum plate. they were all having their nightly feast at the lengthy dinner table, the butlers coming back and forth with servings and refills for drinks. his father straightened his hankerchief in a serious manner, dabbing the corner of his lips like so.

“you cannot always get what you want soobin”. he reminds in his usual monotone.

“that’s for damn sure”. yeonjun muttered just before picking up the wine glass to sip from. he always hated how his younger brother acted when it came to the monarch. almost as if the world revolved around him and him only.

soobin shoots his brother a frustrating look, “no one is talking to you hyung”.

“don’t talk to your older brother like that”. his mother quickly reprimanded. “why don’t you be more like him anyway? even your younger brothers have more self control than you”.

soobin glances at a silent Beomgyu, taehyun, and kai and rolls his eyes. their suits hugging their smaller frames in a way that made them look much more sophisticated than the average teenagers. he hated when she said that. hated it to the fullest. he always had a pocketed feeling that she favored his brothers more than him anyway.

always the pocketed feeling that she wished the second born son was never required to inherit the throne.

almost as if she’d rather have yeonjun take his place instead.

soobin breathes, “I just don’t understand why I can’t just become king and participate in arranged marriage after. I don’t need a wife in order to be king”.

his father glares at him in the midst of his chews of his roasted chicken, “and what are you without a woman by your side soobin? you cannot make all decisions on your own. A woman can see and detect things that most men can’t. without that intuition what would that make of you?”.

“i can make wise decisions without a woman”.

and with that not only did his parents scoff but sparks of laughter was passed around the whole table. soobin just wanted to throw a plate at both of the youngers for even participating in this mess.

“what are the both of you laughing at?”. he addresses clutching his fork in his balled fist.

“hyung you can barely even wake up on your own for school in the morning. what makes you think you can make decisions without a woman?”. taehyun replies matter-of-factly, using his butter knife to gently slice his chicken.

“what does that have to do with anything?”.

“it means you’re not fit to be king. I don’t even know why the inheritance is on you in the first place”. yeonjun snarls.

“because I’m the second born, smart ass”. soobin snarls back.

“you shouldn’t have been born at all”. yeonjun retorts with his whole heart.

“boys that’s enough! yeonjun apologize to your brother”. their mother interrupts angrily.

yeonjun dramatically turns his body around and flashes soobin a fake smile. if soobin didn’t already have a reputation to his name he’d smack the smile off his face. yeonjun cross his legs and places his folded hands atop of his knee.

“i’m sorry that I hate your fucking guts choi soobin”.

“alright! everyone go to your rooms. dinner is over”. their father announced with his loud and obnoxious voice bellowing through the hallways.

“father we weren’t even fighting”. kai whines, referring to him taehyun and beomgyu.

“I don’t care. everyone to their rooms until I say other wise”.

the five boys stood up, each of them sucking their teeth with the exception of kai who annoyingly threw his napkin in the middle of his plate. taehyun rolls his eyes, “thanks a lot yeonjun hyung”.

“shut up”. yeonjun grumbles.

and just like that they parted ways. angry. annoyed. not wanting to speak to each other again, and this was how most of their days went. one of them ruining it for all of them and making them go against each other. soobin being the one most impacted this time, being criticized by his parents about being king and then having his older brother say he isn’t fit to be anything and that he shouldn’t have even been born.

it was normal to say things you didn’t mean when you were angry.

but it was even more normal for the truth to slip out when you were under a fit of rage.

and that’s just what soobin thought about yeonjun’s statement. yeonjun was admitting his truth.

unlocking his door to his room soobin opens the door and throws his suit jacket down on the floor next to his door. he kicks his shoes off in front of the wall, completely disregarding his closet which he could’ve entered had he took the chance to walk further in his room but he didn’t. he was much too frustrated to do anything. he stumbled along his shining marble floors to get under his cardinal colored satin sheets underneath his diamond chandelier.

but he wasn’t expecting company.

with his closet door open there was a girl, slightly bent over, reaching inside his closet to be, what it looked like, organizing his shoes. judging from her outfit--being a skin tight crimson flavored dress with a white apron decorating the front--she was clearly a maid.

soobin could stare at her luscious thick brown thighs for the entirety of the day, but he’d rather not be the perv here. instead he cleared his throat. startled she turned around not even noticing his arrival. she quickly got up off of her knees and bowed graciously. soobin couldn’t stop his eyes from skimming her physique. she was quite thicker than anything he was used to. and her beauty distracted him like a deer in headlights. brown almond shaped eyes, corpulent lips coated with gloss and flawless skin worth dying for. her hair was middle parted and sleek, curly and black stopping only a little past her shoulders. she hadn’t spoken yet but soobin knew just by how straight and white her teeth looked, her smile was going to kill him the most.

“are you a new hire?”. soobin spoke softly. she nods,

“my school tuition needs to be paid. this was the only job open. today is my first day, I was assigned your room. am I bothering you? I can finish later”. she says, the sound of her voice to soobin’s ear was like chocolate to a sweet tooth’s tongue. he wanted more of it and he couldn’t help himself.

“you’re not a bother at all. I’m just surprised my parents didn’t tell me. what’s your name anyways?”.

“indigo”.

and she was just as beautiful as the color, soobin thought.

“I’m choi so--”.

“choi soobin”. she interrupts with a head nod, “I know. everyone knows you”. she informed with a small smile, a dimple pushing into her left cheek. soobin’s heart could just burst.

“oh yeah? are they good things? or bad?”. soobin quizzes, folding his arms with a slight grin. she laughs with sweetness dripping from her lips equivalent to that of honey.

“we all know you’re the second eldest. we know you’re handsome and we all know you’re a spoiled brat”. at this point soobin didn’t know if he was more attracted to her beauty or boldness. maids were never permitted to have more than a 5 second conversation with anyone of royalty. hell, barely even a look in the eye.

“a spoiled brat? I am not. that’s actually quite embarrassing”. soobin admitted with his cheeks turning red. she stands at the tips of her toes and whisks her thumb against his cheeks. any normal human being would know that this wasn’t the way to get rid of a cheek tint but to soobin’s surprise it worked. her hands felt like home against his skin.

“don’t worry. we know you can’t help it. being rich and inheriting the king’s throne has it’s perks huh?”.

“being rich has it’s perks. having your whole family think you’re not fit to be king doesn’t”.

“prove yourself to them”.

soobin scoffs, “yeah and they’ll just laugh in my face again. I don’t even know who they’re thinking about arranging me with. probably someone whose just as bitchy as everyone else in this monarch”. he says, not even realizing he was venting to her.

“god you’re really stressed choi soobin”. she utters mainly referring to the slight vein crawling up his neck.

he peers down at her, “yeah, I am”. the communication between their eyes becoming invincible. a smirk flickered at the corner of her lips and soobin pushes his body closer to hers.

“and if you’d like to help me with that, you’re more than welcomed to”.

she ghosted her lips over his, “but is it permitted?”.

“I don’t care if it isn’t”.

“rebellious boy aren’t you?”. she grinned. soobin smiles, “only a little bit”.

“I guess it all depends on how you want to be helped”.

he grins with secrets in his eyes, “I won’t tell”,

her gloss glistens in chandelier’s glare. “ hm. how do I know that?”.

“get on your knees for me and you’ll see”.

she mutters a small hmph before lowering herself sluggishly, her eyes painstakingly mounting up into soobin’s until she was touching the ground. soobin gifts her a haughty, unflinching stare.

“like this?”. she utters with big innocent eyes. god--she was sexy. and she was well aware of that, soobin could tell.

“seems like you’re asking questions you already know the answers to”. soobin breathes while she drums her fingers on his belt before unfastening it like so. a poignant smirk pierced her cheeks seeing soobin’s length. she tugged his briefs down and let his veiny cock spring free.

“it seems like you’re trying to do things that you know you can’t do”. she replies, wrapping her hands around the base of his dick. soobin tenses before he answers.

“like what?”.

she positions the plushed, throbbing head onto her lips, “like domming me”.

she made those her last words before she sunk his length into her mouth, making sure to hide her teeth and wrap her tongue around it’s shaft. soobin felt his heart race at the feeling of her tepid tongue around the places he was sensitive most.

she hums against his length while a fervid, lewd moan withdrew from her lips. it was careful, yet so erotic that she almost could’ve been mistaken for a pornstar. soobin’s knees turned into jelly at the sound of them. the squelching noises of her saliva filled tongue seeped through the air in the most sinful way. this couldn’t have been her first time.

soobin’s dick was throbbing so hard in her mouth it became too overbearing to withstand.

“f-fuck”. he exhaled desperately, sitting down urgently on the edge of his nearby bed. he watches her plump lips roll off the tip diligently with a protracted spit string to follow. she jerks him off, twisting her hand up to his tip before dragging it back down again.

“is this what you do?”. she questions seductively, and soobin was groaning so much underneath his breath he didn’t even think he had the ability to answer her. “shit--what do y-you mean?”.

“get maids assigned to your room so they can suck you off?”.

soobin sits his head back between his shoulders closing his eyes in the utmost ineffable bliss. “n-no. no I haven’t”. he stutters, just as much as his hips.

she arranges her lips to layer a line of spit along his length and smears it around with her thrusting hand. she taps the tip against her tongue before taking him in whole again, pushing it much deeper into her throat this time. she sucks everything she could reach prior to purposeful gagging, reaping the fruit of her efforts all over his lap. she twirls her tongue around it, lapping her mess in trail from the skin of his lap to the base of his dick.

“fuck you’re so fucking good at this”. soobin glares at her in a lustful daze.

“am I?”. she teases, kissing her way to the beloved tip again. soobin thought looked even sexier with her thighs spreading wider since she was on her knees, the both of them begging to inch their way out of her tight dress.

“fuck yes”.

“will I get a raise for this?”. she snarkily asks with the head of his dick filling her cheeks. soobin’s hips bucks up into her mouth again. the veins in his neck were even more prominent than before just from him forcing down his needy groans. he nods frantically.

“y-yes you can get whatever you want”. he exhales again with oceans of pleasure wreaking havoc in his torso. “I’m about to fucking cum”. she jerks him off once more at an even faster pace, biting the plump juicy lips that soobin wanted to suck off her face.

his hips sputter once more and she immediately sticks two fingers in his mouth while his hot cum darted from his tip. his sheer broken moans vibrated her fingers until he was finished.

she climbs up his lap now straddling him. her relentless eyes met his weary ones, “if we’re going to keep doing this, promise me that I will be the only one making you cum like this”.

soobin nods his head trying to assure her as best as he could. “I p-promise”. she then wraps his hand around his neck,

“you promise what?”.

“I promise you’ll be the only one making me cum like this, princess”.

#soobin smut #txt smut #soobin drabble #txt #txt imagines #txt drabble #drabble #kpop #soobin #choi soobin

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literate-lamb · 3 years

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Man of the House | prologue

Sam Wilson/fem!Reader, future dark!Bucky Barnes/fem!Reader

Of first meetings with your landlord and being enamoured with the hauntingly beautiful house. A new start.

► warnings(!): none for this chapter, eventual dubcon/noncon, eventual choking in future chapters. this is a dark fic.

a/n: I’m opening a taglist for this series, just hmu with an ask.

When people think of Fall, they can’t help but attribute it to the crispy coldness, the yellowing of leaves, or children in pumpkin patches. Young adults would probably think of the pumpkin spice lattes from cafes, or for the fans of the occult, All Hallow’s Eve’s approach comes to the mind. Just like the changing of leaves, for you, Fall reminds you of new beginnings. A fresh start.

The autumn wind chills as you huddled closer in your coat, trying to retain warmth. Your old car —a Studebaker Lark ‘63— parked on the curb of the road as you approached the house.

Ahead over you, in its Gothic Revival glory, sat a white wooden house. The drab grey sky made it seem more imposing in stature. The roof was a contrasting grey, steeply pitched with an arched gable. Delicate wooden trims decorated the front; nothing intricate but a simple design. Dirty windows entered your peripheral, the accumulated dust blurring them.

Taking everything in, the house seemed well-maintained, but the chipping of paint reminded you of its age.

Nevertheless, for a structure of such grandeur, it was astonishingly inexpensive. After hours of pouring over internet searches, you couldn’t believe your eyes when you stumbled upon it.

The house was a classic; with its architecture and size, you deemed it perfect. Located in a quieter part of Maryland, bordering DC; not too far from your place of employment, but far from the cacophonies of the city. This, you considered, was your fresh start.

Standing near the driveway was a greying gentleman; grey hair perfectly coiffed, crow’s feet in the corners of twinkling blue eyes. You assumed he’s in his 60’s or 70’s. He greeted you, his weathered face smiling, with a walking stick in hand, although he still seemed strong for his age.

“Good day, Mr Rogers,” you smiled, shaking his offered hand. “Thank you for meeting me today.”

“It’s a pleasure, dear,” he replied. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

Stepping onto the porch, you observed your surroundings. The rustling of trees by the wind was the most prominent of sound, if anything else, it was dead quiet. You could see other houses scattered in the distance, however no immediate neighbours were within vicinity.

The click of the front door unlocking pulled you. The inside was dark, the dusty windows permitting little light, while the floor was covered by a thin layer of dust.

Mr Rogers walked in first, pushing the door and held it open for you. You thanked him, pleased with his gentlemanly ways.

A hiss left you at the sudden switching of lights, attacking your eyes as they readjusted. You blinked a few times to take in the interior.

The hallway was long; cream coloured wallpaper hugged its sides, ending to a larger room in the distance. The walls were bare except for a few random antique mirrors. To your left, a stairway sits. It contrasts the walls; a rich, sturdy, mahogany. To your right, an entrance way opens up; silhouettes standing in the dim shadows.

“I apologize, it’s a bit dusty,” said Mr Rogers, sheepishly. “I try to clean it up at least once a month.”

“By yourself?” you ask, bewildered.

He chuckled, “No, with a cleaning company, dear.”

Telling you to follow him, Mr Rogers stepped into the entryway to your right, switching the lights on.

The silhouettes you saw earlier were of the furniture strewn about; chesterfield sofas, armchairs, and antique floor lamps crowding the room. A fireplace stood near another entrance, a large mirror erected over its mantle, reflecting the rays from the porch windows. It looked like a scene out of those classic films you used to love. If tidied properly, this would be the best reading spot, you thought.

“This is the parlour,” he announced, “Great for having guests over.”

“It’s beautiful,” you beamed.

Moving forward, Mr Rogers walked through the other entryway, leading to a dining room. From your vantage point, you could see this is the room the hallway ends up to.

Smacked in the middle, a sleek white marble dining table sits. Its length stretches across the room, sets of dining chairs accommodating tens of people. It looked ideal for hosting dinner parties.

The dining room was connected to the kitchen in the back, easing the transferring of food. When you stepped foot into the kitchen, you didn’t expect it to be extravagantly spacious. You smiled, envisioning yourself cooking meals in this kitchen.

“There are a few pots and pans under the cupboards if you ever want to use ‘em,” the older man says. “They were my wife’s”

Curious, you pressed, “Your wife, sir?”

“Yep, my wife, Peggy,” he smiled, eyes distant, lost in a different time, “Actually, she was the one who owned this house, or atleast, her family did. I inherited it after she passed away, felt it was too big to live by myself ya know?”

You hummed in understanding. He must have lived a fulfilling life with his wife, judging by the look. After a few seconds, he snapped out of it, composed himself, and marched on.

“This here leads to the back of the house,” he gestured to a door, the upper half a transparent window. You could see tall blades of grass and the dense trees swaying out back, reacting to the wind. “And this one’s the laundry room, the bathroom’s next to it,” he continued, opening a second door in the kitchen.

You both left the kitchen, entering the hallway through the dining room. As you passed, you noticed a set of stairs obscured under the main staircase. It was smaller, leading down under, ending where a thick black door stood in slight darkness.

“Uhm, Mr Rogers?” you asked, pausing. “What’s that room?”

The older man stopped, turning to look back.

“Oh, that’s the basement. Nothing exciting down there though, just a furnace and some tools. I’ll show you soon,” he seemed to ramble, before turning his back quickly. Without waiting for you, he started climbing the stairs, slowly, hand gripping the railings tightly, walking stick in the other.

That prompted an eyebrow raise from you, he almost seemed flustered. Shrugging it off, you followed.

“So, tell me, dear,” he started, “What brings you searching for a house in this area? It’s not exactly the most happening of places for youngsters.”

The question surprised you. Usually most landlords don’t bother to know such, especially of potential tenants. Their only concern being prompt payments, or you’re out.

“Um, I’m a vet, and I actually work closer here than if I live in the city,” you replied, “Plus, it beats the DC traffic.” Which was true, harrowing through traffic everyday was exhausting.

Mr Rogers chuckled in response.

The second floor was the same layout as the floor below; a long hallway with doors. You noticed there were even more mirrors on this floor. Come to think of it, there were mirrors in every room you’ve been in so far.

“There are three bedrooms and a bathroom on this floor,” —the man explains, opening a door— “And this is the master bedroom.”

It was spacious and regal, light blue walls with dark furniture occupied the room; a king-sized four poster, a vanity, and a large wardrobe stood next to a closet. On the furthest side, two stained glass doors stood, leading to a balcony overlooking the front yard. The colours from the glass reflected on the walls, giving allusions to crystalline shapes. You imagined how they’d reflect during sunset. It was perfect.

The tour commenced with Mr Rogers showing the other two bedrooms and bathroom. At the end of the hall, he led you to a wooden ladder that stood connected to a latch door in the ceiling.

“That’s the attic, nothing much but dust and some old furniture,” he pointed, “You can take a look at ‘em and see if they’re to your liking when you decide to move in.”

Heading down the stairs, the basement was the last place on the tour.

“So, how are you liking the place so far?” he asks, walking beside you.

Biting your lip, you chose your words carefully. “It’s beautiful, the furniture, the decor, and such big space as well,” you said, “Although I’m surprised that I’ll be getting all of this, especially with the price.”

The elder man picked up on your apprehension, “Ah, about that, I’ll discuss the details with you after we finish.” He took the lead, pushing the thick black door with his body. He was stronger than you expected.

A sense of foreboding was felt at first as the door creaked. After going further down the steps, it wasn’t as dark as you expected. Minimal light shone in through small windows on the upper walls, the glass separating the two worlds.

The dangling chain on the ceiling was pulled, flooding the space in light. Adjusting to the brightness, you could see it was dustier in the basement. Cobwebs hung in corners, entangling corpses with them. Thick dust covered the surface of shelves, as if a blizzard invaded. An even thicker silence settled, deafening to the core.

“Don’t you worry about that thing,” the man’s voice echoed, pointing to a furnace in the back, “Got that serviced this year, if anything happens just let me know.” Turning to the shelves, he seemed to inspect them for a few moments, eyes squinting. “And there’s a lot of tool boxes in here,” he gestured to the heavy shelves, pushed to the walls, “Feel free to use ‘em.”

Not wasting any time, Mr Rogers turned back towards the stairs. You followed suit, pulling the chain, basking the basement in darkness once more.

As you began to ascend, a sudden strong scent invaded your nostrils, wafting through like an uninvited guest. You gave another whiff. A musky scent, wild, and smoky, further reminding you of Fall.

Casting one last glance into the darkness, you shrugged it off, and closed the door. Must’ve been Mr Rogers’ faint cologne.

You observed the state of the porch as Mr Rogers locked the front door. The porch needed sweeping, you noted, stepping on a sea of dead leaves, their crunching audible.

Overlooking the lawn, you noticed a pair of blue eyes at the edge of the porch. A pair of white fluffy ears accompanied, flickering occasionally. You smiled, it seemed like you had a visitor.

Squatting down on the steps of the porch, you chittered, hoping to catch its attention. After a few seconds, a white blur zoomed in, scurrying then stopping abruptly at your feet. It mewled, wide blue eyes staring, demanding attention. You petted and scratched below its jaw, the creature emitting content purrs.

“Looks like she’s taken a liking to you,” voices Mr Rogers from behind, “She’s a stray, always coming ‘round.”

“I’m surprised, she’s very friendly,” you said, petting snowy fur.

Seconds pass, the cat’s purr the only sound.

“I’m sure you’ve been wondering regarding the rent,” he breaks the silence, taking a seat on the porch steps. “Why it’s so… well, cheap, for a fully furnished house like this.”

“Well… yeah, I actually almost thought it was a scam,” you replied, sheepish. “I had to actually see it for myself.”

The older gentleman laughed, “I don’t blame you, it sounds too good to be true.”

And indeed, it was. For a classic house like this, dating probably a century back, and fully furnished, something must be up. It was too good of a good bargain.

“Actually, there’s a reason why I put it that way,” he admits after a few beats. “Tell me, do you believe in ghosts, dear?”

You frowned, wondering where he’s going with this, “Can’t say I do.”

“Let me guess, atheist?”

“Agnostic.”

He smiles mirthlessly, “Well, I can’t say I believe in them either, but for the past years, I’ve been having trouble getting tenants to stay.” That piqued your curiosity.

“What do you mean, sir?” you pressed, intrigued.

“Past tenants have told me they’ve been… spooked while living in the house, like things disappearing and reappearing, or hearing footsteps and what not,” the man explains, “But I can’t say it’s true since it’s all peaceful whenever I stay here, or check up on maintenance. I’ve even had a friend stay here for a week, and nothing!"

Ah, the classic household haunting you’ve always seen in movies; missing items, heavy footsteps, the feeling of being watched. Sitting on the steps, you felt like a walking cliché; the stupid girl who goes into a large house knowing it’s haunted, wanting a taste of thrill. Yet, you can’t be bothered. You’ve always been a skeptic, a believer that science and logic can debunk these things.

“What I wanted to ask you is, would you still want to move here after all I’ve told you?” the older man asked. “I’d understand if you want to back out.”

His question shows how concerned he is about others, even if it’ll put a damper in his business. You felt lucky to have stumbled upon an honest and understanding landlord, not everyone had that privilege. But something felt off.

“I don’t understand, while I appreciate it, why do you need to disclose this, sir?” you ask, weirded out. “Isn’t it buyers beware?”

“It’s a part of the law to categorize it under ‘stigmatized’ property,” he replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you didn’t know,” he chuckled, you joined him. “So, what about it, dear?”

Stroking the cat, you thought about it. You were never a believer of ghouls nor other other-worldly beings, and you weren’t going to start now. While the presence of ghosts could never be proven or denied, you believed that every occurrence has a logical explanation, even the paranormal. You weren’t about to let go of a wonderful place just because some ghost decided to move in as well. Stigmatized or not, you’ve found yourself a good deal. The perfect start.

“Don’t worry Mr Rogers, ghosts or no, nothing's gonna stop me from living in this house,” you smiled. He returned it.

Later, after much discussion and the exchange of handshakes, you left the house with a sense of relief. Pulling out of the driveway, you waved to the older gentleman, before speeding off.

A few metres ahead, checking in the rearview mirror, you saw Mr Rogers still standing in the driveway.

His smile never faltered.

The next day finds you working endlessly at the clinic, meeting furry patients left and right, tending to their dilemmas. The clinic was almost never vacant, the seats occupied always leaving behind fur. To you, it has always been a fulfilling job. Sometimes you’ll get scratched, or hissed at, but at the end of the day it was always worth the care.

Lunch came a bit later. Sighing, your shoulders relaxed. After attending to a cat that decided it needed to throw a hissy fit, you really needed a break. While shovelling food into your mouth, your phone suddenly rang; Sam Wilson flashing on the screen.

“Hi, baby,” you picked up.

“Hello, baby,” came the sultry voice on the other end. “How’s my girl doin’?”

“She’s doing fine, thank you for asking,” you teased. “Why’d you call? Did something happen?”

Muffled chuckles rang through the speakers, “No, nothing happened, just wanted to know how you’re doin’. Hey, how was the house? All good?”

“It was gorgeous! And fully-furnished too!” you replied, gleefully. “It was all antique, the master bedroom was my favourite,” and you continued telling him of everything, from the fancy parlour to the stained glass doors. Sam listened attentively, humming and responding at appropriate times. And this is why you loved him. He was always the talkative one out of you two, yet he never talked out of turn, always putting you first. “Oh, and I’ve found out why it’s so affordable.”

“Let me guess, someone died in that house?”

You chuckled, “Close, apparently it’s ‘haunted’, ooh,” you booed. “The landlord said he had never experienced it during all his years there, nor did his friend that apparently stayed there. So it makes you wonder, if it were just stories from people paranoid about living in an old house.”

“Sounds like it,” Sam hummed. “Can’t wait to have sleepovers at your new place now.”

You laughed, missing his dose of humour and his presence terribly. “I wished you were there with me.”

“I wished I had too, baby,” he murmured, “So when’s the moving date? Gotta put these bad boys into good use.” You heard him grunting, probably flexing his bicep from the other end. Sam’s antics always amused you. He was your happy pill.

“I told Mr Rogers —that’s the landlord— I’ll be moving in two weeks,” you explained. “Do you mind taking a day off to help me? Pretty please?”

“Anything for you, baby.”

#sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #trope: haunted house AU #dark bucky barnes #horror #mystery #marvel fanfiction

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harrysgoldrush · 4 years

Text

chapter 2: styles v vegan contract

masterlist

tag list

part 1

Y/N Y/LN.

In her final year of law school and already planning on getting her LLM in Environmental Law and Politics. A true force to be reckoned with. Tom had told him that much the moment he closed the office door behind him.

Tom’s office was one of the bigger advisor’s offices on campus, with his desk pushed up against the left wall furthest from the door with two mismatched embroidered chairs that he had stolen from the Tisch School of Arts last year. A giant bookcase covered the whole back wall with books sitting on top of each neatly organized row. The right side of his office was occupied by a worn leather couch that had only fit through the narrow door by some miracle. There was a coffee table with some of the school’s different magazines and newspapers and a small black fridge that always had sodas and Tom’s leftovers.

Harry could imagine her taking naps on that sofa, falling asleep as she plotted her next protest, asking Tom for advice while he answered emails. She wouldn’t even knock, she’d make a beeline to the fridge to grab water. Except she hated those bottles. What did she do instead? Maybe she would finish Tom’s salad for him, his wife always brought him one for lunch and he only ever ate the “exciting” parts before he tucked it away in that fridge.

“Harry, she’s in two of your classes this semester,” Tom had laughed, setting his reading glasses down on his desk as he sat back down. “Your Public and Private Governance Seminar and International Trade and Investment Law and Policy Seminar. Those are small classes, I’m surprised you two haven’t met before.”

Sinking in his chair, he held his back closely as he defended, “We have met before. Last week at Sloan Energy.”

“Ah,” Tom hummed, clearly entertained at Harry’s reaction. Scooting his chair closer, he closed his laptop so he could look directly at him. “She’s been leading that protest for a while now, I think it will be six weeks this Friday.”

“Is there any way to stop her?”

“From protesting for Green Energy? No.” Taking a deep breath, he rubbed at his neck and added hesitantly, “I suppose you could always talk to her? She’s reasonable enough, she just switched advisors this semester because she wanted to make Mark’s workload lighter; he’s semi-retired now.”

Tom went on to check in with Harry about his internship and how his classes were going so far but Harry could hardly focus, feeling himself drift towards the question of the hour: how could he convince her to move the protest?

From the short interaction he had had with Y/N and Tom’s high praise, he was beginning to think that he was Sloan Energy’s last hope. Why else would they turn to him, an intern, when they had a whole team of more than qualified lawyers? And why had Tom thrown him to the wolves, knowing that another student was leading a whole movement against the company?

Before he could ask, Tom was standing up and shaking his hand. “You’ll have to keep me updated on Sloan Energy and the protests. I’m eager to hear what happens.”

“Yeah, Tom I will. And thanks again for telling me about the internship.”

Tom was quiet for a minute, his smile frozen and his eyes narrowing before he nodded. “Of course, Harry. Jeff Azoff is an old student of mine. When he reached out about looking to hire students, I immediately thought of you. Pays a lot more than that paralegal you’ve been working for since your first year here.”

As Harry was leaving the office, he was surprised to see a new blue bin right next to Tom’s trash can. A single plastic salad bowl sat in it, still dripping water as if it had just been rinsed clean.

“Is this new?”

“It was a gift, actually. Just got it last week.”

The first thing Harry did after his meeting was text Sarah and Mitch, asking what they knew of Y/N Y/LN. Walking briskly down the hallway, Harry’s searches on Instagram and Facebook proved to be a waste of time. Twitter was useless, with only a few pictures of protests with faces blurred and no mention of her. As he waited for the elevator, Harry opened a new note on his phone and began to type down everything he knew.

Studies Environmental Law

No social media.

Protests when not in class

In my governance and policy seminars

Meeting tonight????

Throughout his Financial Regulation seminar, Harry could hardly focus as their guest speaker outlined the history of finance regulation in the US, wondering how he had never noticed her in his classes. In the sea of sleek and professionally dressed law students, she was like a rainbow colored rocky shore. The only thing standing between him and a guaranteed job after graduation was a strangely dressed classmate.

As soon as they were dismissed, Harry unlocked his phone, relieved to see that Mitch knew her pretty well, having dated her old roommate last year.

She was always really weird about showers. Her and Katie got into this huge fight at the end of the year because Katie had bought a Keurig and I guess that’s bad for the environment. When Y/N got mad about it, Katie locked herself in the bathroom and ran the shower for an hour. By the time she came out of the shower, Y/N had moved out.

Definitely weird.

Sarah had had class with her before and seemed annoyed at Mitch’s response.

It’s called being environmentally friendly, Rowland. Y/N has been practicing zero-waste since high school. She’s not weird, she’s thoughtful. My first year when I was dehydrated, she took me to the hospital and went to all of my classes for me to take notes. If I wouldn’t be risking arrest and my degree, I’d be protesting with her. She’s a better person than both of you combined. If she wasn’t so busy, she’d be top of our year easily. Why are you asking about her, Harry?

Ignoring her question, Harry put his phone away and kept walking, though he wasn’t entirely sure where to go. He hadn’t been able to convince Tom to give him her schedule although he could probably ask Jeff. And what was that meeting later tonight? Was it with Sloan Energy? Was that why they weren’t expected at the office today?

He wasn’t complaining, in fact he was beyond thankful to have a night to catch up with his studies and term papers, knowing he wouldn’t be getting much sleep either way.

Deciding to get a coffee to keep him warm while he plotted, Harry ducked into the Starbucks across the street and stood in line, making awkward eye contact at an old professor of his who was sitting with a much younger woman. Looking away quickly, his eyes landed on a basket with a sign that said ‘Reusable Cups $3.99’.

Suddenly, he felt inspired.

Pulling his phone out again, he quickly typed into his search engine ‘is coffee or tea better for earth?’ with a surprising yet logical result. Grabbing two of the reusable coffee cups, Harry smiled widely at the barista.

“Um, just one coffee black. And whatever your healthiest hot tea is.”

Soon, Harry was walking briskly towards Sloan Energy, hoping Y/N wasn’t at her meeting yet. He had only seen her a few hours ago with her bright colors and worn fabrics but as he got closer to the building, it felt like it had been years since he heard her familiar voice, thanking the small gathering around her through her red and white megaphone. The hot drinks in his hand had managed to only spill minimally on the frantic trip across The Village, surviving the packed subway and crowds of tourists.

She was easier to spot now that he knew where to look. The crowd was smaller than it had been the day before, with a few slowly easing out of the group to get somewhere warmer. As Harry made his way to her, he was glad he didn’t have his internship today; he blended in much better with his dark jeans and black zip tie shirt with NYU School of Law embroidered on the chest.

He waited as she informed the group of tomorrow’s meeting times before approaching. It was just them now. Y/N didn’t seem too surprised to see him as she lowered her megaphone and walked towards him, one eyebrow raised as she took in the two white reusable cups in his gloved hands.

“What is this?”

“Green tea,” Holding it out to her, he pulled it back just as quickly and examined the two cups before holding out the other one. “This one’s green tea. Thought you might be cold.”

“No, I meant why are you bringing me a drink?” When he didn’t respond, she asked with a cautious smile, “Did you poison it or something?”

Shaking his head, Harry glanced towards the main doors of Sloan Energy as she took the drink from him, taking a sip before humming. “It's good. Thanks. Harry, right?”

“Yeah. Harry Styles.”

Looping her free hand through the wrist strap of the horn, she wrapped her bare hands around the warm mug as she looked up at him. “Well can I help you, Harry Styles? Or do you just like to watch?”

“Do you want to maybe grab a drink?” He asked, feeling colder with every second he stood under her cautious gaze.

“Besides the one you just gave me?” Smiling, she glanced at the watch on her wrist that looked more like a piece of wood before she cleared her throat and took another sip of her tea. “I have a meeting in an hour so I probably shouldn’t be drinking yet.”

Harry could feel his shoulders droop unintentionally and watched as her eyes widen before she added quickly, “But I’m starving. Have you eaten today?”

She had taken them to a vegan place only a few minutes away, leading them to a table without hesitation, leading Harry to believe she had probably been here a few times before. He was beginning to notice how attentive Y/N was, from the corner of his eye he could see her casually observing him as he read the menu above the counter.

“Hope you don’t mind vegan, I always come here when I’m in the area.” She suddenly apologized as she dug through her backpack, taking out a much smaller back with her name sewn into it. “Their fries are really good, they’re air fried. The salads are pretty good too.”

They were quiet, with her eating her guacamole burger as he used the bamboo utensils she had handed him once he sat down with his salad.

“Don’t worry, they’re clean.” She had explained when he gave her a curious look. They’re safer than actual utensils, they last long. Better for the earth than those plastic things they give out here. Don’t even get me started on the metal stuff.”

The bag she had pulled out of her backpack had turned out to be a pouch with handkerchiefs, bamboo straws and bamboo utensils. The clinking he had heard earlier in her bag turned out to be mason jars.

“So, you just bring those with you everywhere?”

“Pretty much. I’m just doing my part to lower our carbon footprint. I bring my own containers and utensils mostly. Some places around here are getting better. Chloe, the manager, uses plates that are made of recycled materials and then recycles them again when they’re used.”

Nodding, Harry stabbed at his salad thoughtfully. “So why are you protesting Sloan? No offense, but don’t you have better things to do? Like study?”

“Why do you intern there? Aren’t there less morally corrupt businesses you could work for?”

“They’re one of the most successful energy companies on the East Coast--” He began but her sharp laugh was back, cutting him off quickly.

“And one of the most environmentally harmful energy companies in the US. It’s 2019, who uses coal anymore?”

“It’s not that harmful to the environment, it’s a natural resource.” He was glad he had paid attention to his Oil and Gas seminar last week. He only hoped she hadn’t. “Mining and burning the coal doesn’t harm the surrounding earth.”

“Uh, ever heard of global warming? They’re burning fossil fuels that are destroying the atmosphere. It’s not just cows.” She had been paying attention. Finishing off her sandwich, she took her final sip of her tea and looked at him expectantly.

“What?”

“Just say that they’re paying you a shit ton of money to intern. You don’t need to defend them to me, I’m not going to change my opinion until they change their system.”

Sighing, Harry nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here then?”

He set down her bamboo fork, a sign of defeat. He hadn’t prepared as much as he should have.

“I need you to move your protest.”

“Because?”

“If I get you to move your protest from their front doors, they’ll give me an actual job on their legal team once I pass the bar.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that, her voice laced with pity and uncertainty.

“Yeah.”

After an excruciatingly long pause, she nodded. “Okay.”

“What?” Harry was more than surprised as he watched her shrug and wipe at her hands with the dark red cloth she had laid over her lap when she had started eating.

“I’ll do it.”

“But?”

“I have conditions. Obviously. Do you have any paper?”

He shook his head and watched her begin to dig through her backpack. “What? Are you drawing up a contract or something?”

“Yep,” Pulling out a pen and an old flyer for one of the first protests with the words ‘recycled paper’ stamped on it, Harry watched as she began to write messily on the black back side of it. It was bright yellow and her pen ink was a dark blue, her handwriting long and looped which he found fitting. “Today’s the twenty-fifth right?”

When he hummed in agreement, she continued. “Okay. This contract is between Y/N Y/LN and Harry Styles. Y/N Y/LN has agreed to move her protest permanently from outside of Sloan Energy on the understanding that Harry Styles will educate himself on eco-friendly behavior and practices zero-waste to the best of his ability. Styles must also make an effort to change Sloan Energy from inside, beginning with recycling bins within the building. Once he is hired, Styles is expected to push for green energy. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like I’m doing a lot more than you.”

“Do you want them to hire you or not? I’m doing you multiple favors here, Styles.”

“Can I read it over and get back to you?”

She nodded before quickly scribbling something at the bottom of the contract. After she slid it across the table, he realized it was her number.

“So we can meet outside of my protesting hours should you Don’t think your bosses would be too happy to see you fraternizing with the enemy.” She was smiling now, one full of mischief that made him feel like she was letting him in on a big secret. Harry couldn’t help but smile back, not quite sure what he might be agreeing on.

As she packed up, Harry was tempted to ask her where she was headed, but she beat him to it; it was like she could read his mind. “Don’t follow me this time, okay? Twice in one day should be enough for you, my own apartment is lucky to see me once.”

He didn’t see a point in disagreeing with the girl as she left the small café. Looking around, it was as if all of the charm of the room had vanished with her, the pink walls now looking faded, the table sticky, the chair uncomfortable cold.

By the time he got home, it had only gotten colder. His roommate, Ed, was an aspiring musician who had decided tonight was the perfect night to hold a private concert in the shower, his only audience being the last of their cold water. Shivering, Harry simply changed into warmer clothes and sat at his desk, putting on an old rock station before he got to work.

Jeff had asked him yesterday to begin looking into Energy Law and he had a paper due in two days that he had yet to start. Choosing to begin on the latter, Harry got to work, cranking out three pages before he remembered the folded up flyer in his coat pocket. Deciding now was as good as ever to stretch his legs, he walked back to the living room to grab it from the coat rack, his eyes tracing over her handwriting that reminded him of kindergarten teacher.

Adding her number, he typed out a short text and paused for a moment. If he texted her, that was it. He’d be agreeing to do whatever it is she laid out in this contract of theirs. Still, if he wanted the job, he knew he had to at least try.

hey, it’s harry. how was that secret meeting of urs?

Returning to his desk, Harry was surprised when his phone pinged. He didn’t take her for a quick responder. His smile fell when he saw it was a text from Jeff. He never texts, he was an email addict. He had a template for almost anything.

What the hell did you do, Styles? Y/N Y/LN just left the office. Moving the protest to washington square.

Before he could respond, his phone pinged again, her contact name flashing at the top of the screen.

have you decided when you want to meet to sign the contract? :)

tags: @berrynarrybanana @brwnskin-bunnyteeth @harry-is-my-medicine @detroitkiwis @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @fromyourstrulyh @cassiopeiaskies @ggaayyyong @mortumnoctis

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paladin-lynx · 3 years

Text

SquipJere Week 2020, Day 1: Retro

@squipjerebmc’s SquipJere Week 2020 Day 1: Retro

Ships Involved: The SQUIP x Jeremy Heere (Technical Difficulties/Squipemy/Squeremy/JereSquip/SquipJere)

Setting: Canonverse, set in the time interval between “Loser Geek Whatever” and “Halloween”.

Trigger/Content Warnings: Non-graphic mentions of masturbation; electric shocks

Author’s Notes: Happy SquipJere Week! I meant to get these done like a month ago so I could pre-plan and not rush, but my writing motivation has been kinda low lately. But I’m still gonna try my best to get a piece out for each day! Some of these might be loosely connected – I haven’t decided yet. But I hope you enjoy!

Sometimes, teenage boys needed an escape from the crazy, loud world around them.

Jeremiah Heere had always had three main methods of just forgetting about his problems for a little while: jerking off, talking to Michael, or playing video games.

But considering with the introduction of a supercomputer into his brain the first two options weren’t actually options anymore, he had to settle for the third.

It wasn’t like Jeremy had any shortage of games to play, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t play them without a Player Two – although normally he was the Player Two. But there was definitely something bittersweet about not being able to call up his long-time friend and lose themselves together in the mindless images on the TV screen.

But it was for the best, Jeremy reminded himself. When he reunited with Michael, he’d be better. He’d be cooler. And he could potentially help his friend move up from just being the weirdo loser headphones kid at school. But for now, he needed to break the chains in order to upgrade.

So for now, to try and stave off the nerves that often decided to just rise up out of nowhere – honestly, why was the human brain so stupid sometimes? Jeremy could see why his SQUIP often got frustrated with him – he flopped back onto his bed and booted up his trusty old Game Boy Color. He was still surprised it had survived this long, but unlike other things in his life, Jeremy was actually quite careful when it came to tending to his video games and their respective consoles. Maybe he’d only started being so careful after an unfortunate accident involving a slushie and Michael’s Dreamcast, but even so – now he was careful.

He quickly forgot that anything outside of his game existed, eyes glued to the screen as he tapped away at the controls. All was peaceful for a good while before he felt a familiar buzz at the back of his head and a certain Keanu Reeves lookalike appeared standing over him, frowning thoughtfully.

“Out of all of your video game systems, you chose to play that one?”

Jeremy’s gaze swiveled over to the SQUIP. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s so…” The SQUIP hummed, and Jeremy could all but feel it searching for the right word to use. “…retro.”

“…Is that a bad thing?”

The SQUIP tutted at him. “Technology evolves so quickly nowadays. You may be looked down upon if you don’t keep up with it, or if you are still attached to the older, menial versions of things.”

Jeremy’s brow furrowed. “…Is that part of why Mic—” He caught himself. He wasn’t supposed to bring a certain someone up. “…uh, why people think I’m so weird?”

“A small part.” The SQUIP offered him a sympathetic smile, although Jeremy was pretty sure the look in the SQUIP’s eyes was more amused than anything else. “You do get quite a few of your odder interests from Michael. It’s another reason why we needed to get you away from him. We’re modernizing everything about you, from your fashion sense to your hobbies.”

Jeremy sat up more on the bed, setting the Game Boy aside for the time being. As argumentative as he could sometimes be with his SQUIP, he was nothing if not eager to learn and improve. It was why he asked so many questions. “But even Rich plays video games, and he’s considered cool.”

“Ah.” The SQUIP raised a finger. “But he plays recent games. I don’t believe Rich will use a system if it is more than a few years old, and he invests his money to buy new consoles as soon as they come out. Of course, he prefers ‘more mature’ systems like the Xbox, but that’s personal preference. You having an affinity for Nintendo is harmless, but it would be better for you to pick, say, the Switch over…” He waved over at the Game Boy with a slight grimace. “…that.”

Jeremy frowned, peeking down at his innocent Game Boy before looking up at the SQUIP again. “But…does it matter if I’m only playing the older stuff by myself? It isn’t like anyone will know.”

The SQUIP shook its head. “Everything you do, whether alone or with company, will somehow reflect back on you. Besides, if you have a girl in here one day, what would she think? What if Brooke ends up coming over?”

“I don’t think Brooke would care…”

The SQUIP sighed, pinching the bridge of its nose. “You’re awfully intent on this, dear. These ‘retro’ pastimes of yours are still a consequence of your proximity to Michael. If you’re truly cutting him out, then you have to give up these things, too.”

Jeremy’s cheeks warmed indignantly. “I like them for myself, not just because of him!”

The SQUIP huffed, turning its gaze unto the Game Boy, looking down at it as if it were a bug it was getting ready to squish under its sleek digitized boots. “I don’t see the appeal in such outdated hardware.”

Jeremy picked up the Game Boy and held it against his chest like he was trying to protect it from the SQUIP’s scrutiny. “Clearly you understand some appeal to older things, considering that when I first got you, you looked like Keanu from Bill & Ted.”

The SQUIP narrowed its eyes. “Only my face. The rest of me was more advanced. I tailored my aesthetics so that I’d look like someone you’d pay attention to. Someone you’d find intriguing.” It smirked slightly. “Dare I say, attractive.”

Jeremy’s face warmed again and he sputtered for a moment. “M-my point is that just because I like vintage stuff in the comfort of my own home doesn’t mean I can’t be cool!”

“I’ll say again, I can’t comprehend your attachment to such old technology. The games from those consoles absolutely pale in comparison to anything made now.”

Jeremy shrugged. “It isn’t necessarily about them being good. It’s the nostalgia of it. AotD has been out for years but w—I never get tired of it.”

The SQUIP hummed, once again looking at the Game Boy now pressed against Jeremy’s chest. “What is it that you’re even playing?” Jeremy opened his mouth to answer, but the SQUIP rolled its eyes before he could even say anything. “Hamtaro, Jeremy? Really?”

“Oh, shove off! I told you, it’s for the nostalgia!” Jeremy defended. He realized he’d raised his voice and braced himself for a shock, but all he got was a tingle of static rushing down his spine, making him shiver and blush again. He lay back down, electing to ignore his SQUIP and return to his game of, yes, Hamtaro.

He could still see the SQUIP’s tall frame out of the corner of his eye, watching, tilting its head to the side in that almost endearing way that meant it was analyzing something. But when it didn’t do anything else, Jeremy just focused on the screen before him, clicking at the controls once more.

“Up up down down left right A.”

Jeremy yipped softly as pain flared in the back of his head and he moved one hand to immediately clutch at the tender spot. He looked over to the SQUIP with wide eyes, about to demand what the hell it was doing, only to blink when he realized it was no longer standing there.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled, brow creasing before he slowly turned back to his Game Boy. However, as he pressed one of the buttons, the screen fizzled and the handheld became dangerously hot in his hands, making him gasp and drop it onto the covers beneath him. “Oh God, what did you do?”

Finally, though, the screen returned, except instead of the white-and-orange sprite for Hamtaro, instead the screen was taken over by a different pixelated hamster. This one was jet black save for the white on its muzzle, paws, tail, and tips of its ears, and its eyes were a striking, very familiar bright blue. Jeremy blinked, slowly picking up the Game Boy again and staring at the screen as the black hamster blinked a few times and looked around itself in confusion before it suddenly appeared very disgruntled.

“This is not what I intended to happen,” a text box appeared as the hamster peered up at Jeremy with those big blue eyes. Jeremy’s own widened.

“SQUIP?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Wh—How did you—” Jeremy stumbled over his own words, staring at the sprite. “You’re a Ham-Ham.”

The hamster scowled at him – or at least, Jeremy assumed it was a scowl. It only had so many bits to work with to get its point across. “I suppose I am. I can still shock you, so speak carefully, love.”

Jeremy couldn’t help cracking a tiny smile, shaking his head and leaning back as he continued to watch the SQUIP’s new form. “What the hell were you trying to do?”

The SQUIP gave a shrug, front paws raising in emphasis. “I was trying to better understand your interest in the Game Boy Color. As well as in this game. I suppose I h—”

The text cut out there and Jeremy could all but feel the SQUIP sighing as it waited for Jeremy to finish reading before it deleted the text and continued: “I suppose I had a miscalculation about what would happen when I synced with it.”

Jeremy laughed. “I think this old-school tech is trying to spite you for insulting it.” He grinned. “You look kinda cute like that. And if you’re still in my head, can’t you, y’know, just talk to me there instead of through text boxes?”

The hamster blinked, and it was obvious the SQUIP had been so busy processing the change that it hadn’t considered that as an option, but before Jeremy could poke more fun, he felt another fizzle at the back of his head. The Game Boy’s screen had another freak-out before the game returned to normal with Hamtaro once again in his proper place within the game. Soon enough, the SQUIP reappeared beside the bed, brushing off its clothes as if it had just walked through a hall of cobwebs.

“Have a fun trip?” Jeremy teased, not even minding the warning static on his back.

The SQUIP rolled its eyes, crossing its arms. “I suppose the console is…endearingly antiquated.”

“Yeah, see? That’s the whole point of having vintage stuff!” Jeremy smiled and returned to his game, already missing the black-and-white sprite that had previously been there, as much as he adored the irreplaceable Hamtaro. “Could you change your form to look like a hamster? You really did look cute.”

The SQUIP sighed, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed and watch Jeremy play with almost timid curiosity. “…Perhaps I’ll consider it, if you behave.”

#SquipJere Week 2020 #lynx tales #mine #writing #Be More Chill #BMC Jeremy Heere #BMC SQUIP #Squipemy #Squeremy #Technical Difficulties #JereSquip #SquipJere #Jeremy Heere #SQUIP #my brother had a Game Boy Color and we got the Hamtaro game for it so that's why I thought of this lol #BMC #fic #fanfiction #i don't have a fancy queue tag

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theartofbeinganeldar · 4 years

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The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 5

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in Middle-Earth, Thranduil summoned a council of powerful Elves and wizards to see what should be done with you, expressing his wishes of wanting you out of his kingdom. The council decides to send you with Legolas on an orc-hunting mission, and if the Elves of the company that he deems trustworthy-- one of them being his own wife-- say that you've proven yourself worthy of staying among the Mirkwood Elves, then you can stay. The problem is actually managing to succeed...

Chapter No.: Chapter 5

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color [lad/lass/y-o]= lad/laddie, lass/lassie, young one

Notes: I know I've been trying to keep this story gender-nuetral, but dwarves have a habit of referring to people (Even Gimli to Legolas, though he's a lot younger than our golden boy) as "lad/laddie" "lass/lassie." Or even "young one," I've heard Balin call Bilbo. So for this story, I'll just put [lad/lass/y-o] in parenthesese, and you can just hear whichever one you choose. :)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir LIVES, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC maybe Bilbo you won't know for awhile, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

The Elves stopped just outside the northern border of the Mirkwood, to the west, to wait for the dwarves. But apparently the little guys just didn't give a shit.

The whole group camped for three days, then three more days, and by the end of it, you were even growing impatient. It was mainly the younger Elves that shared your impatience, but Elves like Elvenqueen and Erestor and Haldir seemed to think that they had all the time in the world, la la fucking la...

Legolas seemed in-between, irritated at the dwarves for being so late but not really caring in the long run. You tried several times to approach him and apologize, but he always seemed to disappear at the most inconvenient times imaginable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity-- you were getting sick and tired of frolicking-- the sign of a camp on a distant ridge, a couple of days away, gave the Elves hope that the dwarves finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to show up. A couple of Elves seemed to puff some horses out of thin air, and galloped off to meet them.

"We get horses?!" You'd screeched, and wheeled on your friends-- Tauriel hadn't come, so Lindir, Elros, and pissy Blue-Eyes were the only actual friends here you had, even though all the other Elves were very nice to you. "Why the fuck didn't anybody tell me we got horses?!" You could've been riding to pass this time. Not that you knew how to ride a horse, but that wasn't the point.

Elros blinked at you in disbelief. "Those Elves awaited us on the border with horses enough for all. You have not seen them before?"

"No, dammit, or I would've been riding to pass the time!" You hadn't noticed them, because a certain Rivendell Elf had forced you to learn Elvish... You rounded on him. "Lindir! If you hadn't made me sit here and learn Elvish, I could've been riding!"

Lindir stared at you, then slowly raised an eyebrow challengingly. "You do not know how to ride, do you?"

You frowned. "That's not the point!"

Both Elros and Lindir chuckled amongst themselves. You huffed theatrically. "Fine, jackasses. I'm off to pet one of those sweet animals. You can teach me Elvish later."

Before either of them could stop you, you all but ran off, hoping not to slam into anybody or trip or cause something to fall that'd cause a huge mess. You were prone to all of them. And there were horses, enough for everybody there, and three very fat ponies that you almost started squealing over. Those, you guessed, were for the dwarves.

But one horse, out of all of them, caught your eye.

A sleek, gorgeous black, with a bright white star on his forehead. He was built for speed, like a racehorse, but he was sturdy, too. You looked for something to mark him as belonging to a certain Elf-- because you knew Elves loved horses, and that like all horse people, even look at their horse wrong and you make it on their kill list-- but they all seemed randomly selected out of somebody's stables, dressed in the same dark leather tack and saddlebags.

"Oooooh," You approached him quietly, and he nickered softly at you, his dark eyes scanning you and the Elves and the other horses warily. He seemed only recently tamed. "You, fine sir, are gorgeous."

"I beg your pardon?"

You promptly fell backward. Shit! Talking horses, too?! "What the fuck?!"

Legolas, with a smug smirk plastered onto his absurdly perfect face, sailed into existence from around a dapple gray mare. "Valar tell me you were talking to the horse."

"No, I can tell you I was talking to the horse," You sighed in relief, shaking your head as you stood. "But don't worry your platinum head, Goldie, all Elves are equally beautiful creatures."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, mellon."

You stroked the black's face gently. "No seriously though, he's beautiful. Does he have a name?"

Blue-Eyes didn't look up from brushing his mare's mane. "Most of the horses came from Rivendell and Rohan, which they bought on the journey. The rest came from the Woodland stables. I doubt you will find his name, if he has one."

You felt a little disappointed that you couldn't ask if you could have the horse. You'd always wanted one, but for... Personal reasons that had to do with your biological father, you never got one. "Well... I'll just refer to him as The Black, then."

Blue-Eyes turned around, and started inspecting his tack. "Hm... He seems to have come from our own stables." He stroked behind the stallion's ears, and the horse snuffed appreciatively.

"Legolas," You said quickly, realizing you should catch him when you have the chance. "I'm sorry for not telling you about me leaving if this didn't go well. It wasn't my choice; Thranduil wanted me to go with Elrond that day, but I asked if I could stay. He sent me on this mission to see if I was worthy enough to stay in his Palace of Fabulous. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but... I didn't think anyone would care if I left."

Blue-Eyes got a confused look. "Why... Why would you think that?"

You gave him a sad, lopsided smile. "No one has before."

Recognition, then regret, flashed across Blue-Eyes's face. "Oh, Sairen... I am truly sorry, mellon nin, I should not have been angry with you. I didn't realize... I should have, and I should not have been upset with you. I just... I do care if you leave, and, if I'm honest, I do not want you to go."

You patted his shoulder. "Just so long as you forgive me."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "Of course, mellon, if you can forgive me."

You grinned. "Forgiven." You nudged him with your shoulder. "I'm just glad we're friends again. I've never had so many people be nice to me, but only a handful of you I consider my friends."

"And who among us hold that honor?" He asked teasingly.

Oh shit... You'd seen movies where somebody's asked this question, and if the askee shows even the slightest bit of hesitation or interest in any of the friends, asker became pissed and/or jealous. Wait... Why do I care about that? You turned to him with a huge smile. "Well you and Tauriel, DUH, and then there's Lindir and Elros now. Just wait, I'll be friends with Haldir and Erestor too, and then your mom-- by the time I'm finished I'll even make your dad like me!"

Legolas chuckled. "I hope so, mellon."

"By the way," You said, and reached down to grab a handful of grass to give to the Black. "Lindir and Elros are trying-- and failing-- to teach me Elvish. I'm a horrible student, namely because I'm Elvish-challenged. Still, I'm learning, and I want you to teach me something very specific."

He looked confused. "What?"

You smiled. "Teach me the history of Middle-Earth! Everything you can! I can't read Elvish, but you can, and you know the stories pretty well, I'm guessing. So start with how the world began and continue on from there."

Legolas smiled. "Very well, Sairen." In one quick movement, he mounted his mare, then reached down for your hand. "Come. We will ride, and I will tell you all that I know."

You took his hand, feeling a spark from static you'd built up from petting the horse. He hefted you effortlessly up behind him, then urged his horse into a canter as you rode away from camp.

***

Needless to say, you fell off twice.

Once, you let go of Legolas for just a second as his mare jumped a small log, and whoops, there you go. After, still not learning your lesson, you let go of him while trotting beside a river and the horse's gait made you slide right off before you even realized what was happening.

Then you learned not to let go of Blue-Eyes, mostly because he laughed his Elvish ass off every time you fell, after making sure you were okay.

As for world history, it was all very confusing. There were like six different versions of somebody and a hundred different other guys shared the same name and places and descendants and confusing time periods and just ugh. That was one thing you remembered from Earth: Tolkien's works had always been confusing.

Long story short, though, there was a guy called Eru, or Illuvatar, and he created a bunch of friends through thought. These friends of his became the Valar, and Illuvatar created the whole universe-- Ea-- through more thought. Then he had all his friends-- fourteen of them-- sing, and they created the vision of Valinor, then Arda, and the mischief-maker was Melkor, brother of god-king Manwe.

Now, after a long bout of building and making and stuff they created Valinor and Tirion and Mandos and all that, and they created birds and beasts, but Melkor got jealous and tried to ruin it at every fucking turn. Seriously, the guy didn't give them a break.

Then, Aule, another Valar, who made a lot of shit, wanted to have a bunch of kids so created the little guys known as dwarves, and made them to be especially tough and hardy and stuff because they were supposed to be around during the time of Melkor. But, Illuvatar appeared in his living room one night and said "I think the fuck not my kids come first" which made Aule reeeaaaaaallly upset, so he tried to kill the dwarves (Supreme parenting 2.0!), but then Illuvatar said "wait idiot they can still live" so Aule put them in stasis-mode for like several million years, until somebody "accidentally" unleashed some new Elves into Middle-Earth-- which had no moon or sun.

So duh Orome shows up, says "hi" and everybody runs for their lives except for a few brave souls, who round everybody back up. So three particular Elves, Finwe, Lenwe, and Ingwe, who you're pretty sure were brothers, went to Valinor with Orome to see if it was suitable for Elves-- and it was pretty much Elven paradise, or Vegas or something.

THUS CAME THE FIRST SUNDERING OF THE ELVES, or, that's how dramatically Leggy told it; the Teleri came to rest on the shores of Aman instead of going still further (Who earlier had split further and some became the Sindar, who had stayed in Beleriand, and the Silvan Elves, who'd stayed in the forests of Beleriand or something, of which Blue-Eyes was the first.), the Nandor who got scared of mountains and refused to go further, and the Noldor, who came all the way to Valinor.

Once actually in Aman, the Elves loved it there. They were in paradise. Water. Books. Flowers. Sparkles. Everything an Elf dreamed of. They built a city on a huge hill called Tirion upon Tuna (No you refrained from laughing.), made of silver and gold and more sparkles, and there was lots of peace, until Melkor was finally caught and chained.

Peace, lots of peace, boring shit, more peace, then BAM, the idiot Valar let the bastard go, like dumbasses. Melkor hadn't changed of course, no one does. He started rumors like some crazy gossiper and started up a whole bunch of shit. At that time, this guy called Feanor was around. He was like, the Elf of Elves, but he had some breathtaking anger management issues because after his mom died, his dad waited like a couple thousand years then got married again, and he definitely did not like his stepmom.

Or his two half-brothers.

They were pretty cool guys, Fingolfin and Finarfin, and each brother had like a dozen kids each, one of Finarfin's, get this, was Galadriel. One of Thingol's kin? Celeborn. Elrond? Yeah, he's the grandson of Beren and Luthien, the son of Earendil, raised by Maglor, related to Turin, and his grandparents were Tuor and Idril, the latter of which was the daughter of Turgon, who was the son of Fingolfin, who was the brother of Feanor, so yeah.

Holy fucking shit. Their god stories were kinda hard not to believe when people still existed who could vouch for them.

So this Feanor guy created a trio of sparklies beyond all sparklies, called, the Silmarils. He got a mild case of dragonsickness, boasting and hoarding and showing off and gloating, but Melkor made him think his brothers were trying to steal his sparkles, which, fuck no, how dare they, and he made his brothers think that Feanor was trying to usurp their father Finwe's throne.

Damn that guy knew how to stir up some shit.

One of Melkor's chief servants? Sauron, the Dark Lord, previously known as Sauron the Sparkly Maiar Who Wouldn't Hurt A Butterfly. Balrogs? Yup, Melkor made them, too.

Basically, Feanor started a revolution against the Valar and Melkor, who he called Morgoth, because Melkor was just too pretty of a name for such a bad guy, who stole every single light with the help of a hideously large spider called Ungoliant, killed Finwe, then took the Silmarils.

Feanor was piiiiiiissed.

So the Noldor left Tirion, killed some guys that tried to reason with them that turned out to be Elves, the Teleri, got cursed by Mandos, then Feanor, his sons, and a couple hundred who he knew didn't question him set off on stolen boats and burned them when they reached shore, leaving everybody else-- Galadriel included-- to walk the fucking Helcaraxe, a snowy strait wasteland, to get to Beleriand, which was filled with sparkling twinkle-toes Elves and much-less-serious dwarves-- who were friends.

There was also a good portion of the story dedicated to Turin, Beren and Luthien, and the couple known as Maedhros and Fingon, who you instantly adored: Maedhros, chained to a jagged cliffside for who-knows-how-long, and Fingon, who wanted so badly to save him, and eventually carried up to the cliffside by an eagle; he had to cut off Maedhros's hand, but the story was so heartfelt you were still internally squealing about it.

Yeah so that happened, and then a bunch of war and slaying and something about a Fall of Gondolin and the Children of Hurin and Beren and Luthien leading up to a whole lot of human-caused shit with Numenor, and then Illuvatar blew everything up and restarted, essentially. Toward the end of the second age, Sauron (The fucker had somehow lived through all that evil-cleansing shit.), in the form of a fancy-prancy Elf named Annatar, suggested the making of the Rings of Power. Three, a smart guy who hadn't fallen for any of Annatar's shit, Celebrimbor, hid for the Elves, while Sauron/Annator helped forge the rest in order to control them, making one ring, above all.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for mortal men doomed to die,

And one for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

That was totally cool and stuff, and a handful of well-known Elves-- Gil-Galad, Glorfindel (Who'd uh, previously died due to a balrog trying to touch his hair.), Elrond-- and you're betting Galadriel, Celeborn, and Thranduil-- plus a bunch of well-known humans, lead by Isildur's dad, Elendil, and probably some dwarves, all came together with their armies and formed the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, totally discounting every dwarf that was there.

The nine kings who'd been given rings? Yeah, those were cursed, and because Men are greedy, they became shadows of their former selves, black-clad servants of Sauron, known as the Ringwraiths-- or, even cooler, Nazgul.

So there was a huge battle. Gil-Galad fell. Isildur's dad fell. Isildur cut off the One Ring from Sauron's hand, Sauron faded away, and Elrond took Isildur into Mount Doom to destroy the Ring. But he was weak, and was seduced by its power, and Elrond just stood there screaming his name apparently.

So there'd been roughly a couple thousand years of peace, and nobody knew where the Ring was. You doubted it was anywhere safe or secure, and much less that Sauron was actually dead.

Also, the Elves were fading. That scared you.

"What?! Great, I got sucked into a world where I'm just gonna die!"

Legolas laughed. "No, mellon nin, we are fading. Not dying. We just long for home, and our kind is slowly leaving Middle-Earth. This world becomes gray to us after so long of living here. We go across the sea, to the Undying Lands of Aman and Valinor."

"Okay," You leaned around him to see his face. "What is it with you Elves and the sea?! What's so important about it, if even you've never seen it yourself?! I certainly haven't seen any kind of ocean or sea."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "The first sound ever heard by the Elves was flowing water. It calls us home, in a way. It is said by my people that in water there yet lives the echo of the Music of the Ainur that first created this world."

"Huh," You said, tilting your head. "Guess that does make it really interesting..."

The sound of another pair of hoofbeats, coming up from behind, nearly made you fall off of the horse again. "Orcs?!"

Blue-Eyes grinned smugly. "Orcs do not ride horses, Sairen."

"Duh. I knew that. Fuck you."

"I'd rather you not without my consent."

"That's not always what it means!" You hid your blush by moving so your head was behind his back. Damn Elves...

It was Erestor, riding a gorgeous flaxen stallion. "Legolas, Elvenqueen calls upon the company of [Y/N]."

Nervously, you peered around Blue-Eyes's side. "Is that bad?"

Legolas spurred his own mare into a canter as he followed after Erestor. "Not in the least, mellon."

When you returned to camp, Erestor and Legolas took care of the horses, while they sent you on ahead-- by yourself, to a scary yet badass Elvenqueen you might glare you out of existence if you breathed wrong, like the wonderful friends they were-- to the Elvenqueen.

She sat by one of the center campfires, surrounded by a drove of Elves eagerly listening to whatever she was saying. Even in the firelight, she looked really young, but really regal and noble and even though she didn't have a wrinkle on her body you could tell she'd been around for eons.

All went silent when you approached. Nervously, you bowed. "Y-you wished to see me, your majesty?"

"Yes," She said, and waved to a place on a log across from her. "Sit."

You weren't terrified or anything. Just 'cause she decided not to skin you alive a couple days ago didn't mean she couldn't change her mind. You caught a glimpse of Elros in the crowd, and he gave you a reassuring nod: Don't worry, you won't die yet.

Comforting.

"Tell something of your world," She said.

You balked. Hadn't Thranduil told her everything you'd said? They seemed like the type of couple to do just that. Hadn't Legolas at least given her some information? They seemed close. You swallowed hard, readjusting yourself on the log. "What uh... What do you want to know?"

She thought for a second. "A tale."

You shifted. Sure, that was specific. You'd read billions of books (Well, maybe not quite that much...), but you couldn't remember any that Elves would want to hear aside from series’, like Temeraire, or The Gospel of Loki, or Eon the Last Dragoneye. Maybe you could use a movie, but Marvel and Transformers were too long and in-depth. You thought for a minute. You didn't even know how to give a much-shortened version of Eragon.

But out of everything, it was your best bet to tell a story and be safe from explaining your world's past, or things of your world, or cultures, mythology, or the concept of giant robots from another planet that hide by transforming into cars. Eragon was the closest thing you had to Lord of the Rings that you could remember right off the top of your head that was most similar; it had some of the same beasts, like dragons and werewolves, it was set in the same genre and had dwarves and Elves and Men, even if urgals were a new one... Then again, you weren't sure how they'd take dragons being good instead of hoarding assholes.

So, you got started.

As a hobby, you wrote a lot of fanfiction, which had mainly been for Lord of the Rings; you couldn't remember any of it now, of course, but you'd also started your own fantasy stories that had never been published. You were good with storytelling.

There were points where you had to pause and remember what happened next, or try to find words that explained the guilt or sadness or general feels of the story, but you did pretty good. By the time you were finished, the sun had came up and it was already noon, and the Elves that'd gone off to see if that camp was for dwarves were coming back, with a couple of pony-sized rams with shaggy coats carrying three tiny buff hairy guys.

Elvenqueen regally stood. "My thanks, [Y/N]. That was a wonderful story." She sailed through the ranks of the Elves, which parted before her like reeds to a boat.

"Is that a true story?" Lindir asked you, eyes wide.

You scoffed. "If it were true, I'd've had a dragon named Saphira or Shruikan. I have no dragon." You clapped your hands together. "So! When do I get to meet the dwarves?"

Blue-Eyes-- who'd joined later in the story, and another Elf caught him up on what was going on while he half-listened to what else was going on-- mockingly rolled his eyes. "Patience, mellon. I cannot think of any Eldar whom would willingly want to make the acquaintance of a dwarf."

You gave him a pointed look. "What about Thingol's people?"

Silence. Finally, Elros busted out laughing, and clapped the now-stunned Legolas on the back. "They have a point, mellon!"

But Blue-Eyes was right. It was only a couple hours before you were sought out by a Lothlorien Elf, who told you Thorin wanted to meet "the one who hailed from far." Apparently, nobody here felt like saying "the person that came from another planet." Not as mysterious, apparently.

So you followed the Elf to a tent, much smaller than those of the Elves, and a lot less colorful and, dare you say it, fashionable. Literally, it just looked like a bunch of old dark-colored blankets had been stitched together haphazardly. But, if you looked at the tools and tack of the rams, they were just doing it in spite of the Elves, because they had really good craftsmanship.

You weren't sure what to do. "Uhhh... Knock knock?"

You belatedly remembered one of the dwarves was royalty. "Sirs?"

The flap of the tent opened, and you got your first look at a dwarf.

He was an older dwarf, with a long graying beard and frizzy hair, and huge round ears. He looked you up and down in a brief but kind inspection, and, came to the very educated conclusion of, yup, not your normal Elf.

The dwarf smiled. "Ah, you must be [Y/N]." He sounded more Scottish than anything, and you were instantly relaxed. "The one from a far place. Not a normal Elf, then?"

You shook your head. "No sir. Just got here about a month and a half ago, actually."

He raised a hand. "Now now, we are all a part of this expedition, and I don't like being referred to as 'sir.' I am Balin to you."

You couldn't help but smile. He was a lovable little guy, a very sweet old dwarf. "Okay then. But, uh... Should I call Thorin or Dwalin 'sir'?"

Balin thought about that. "Ehhh... Thorin, yes. Dwalin? No."

You nodded, and Balin lead you inside the tent. It was pretty cozy, with three logs covered in roughish furs for makeshift beds. A small cooking fire was set up in the middle, and two other dwarves sat by it, halting their dwarvish conversation when they seen you and Balin. "This is they," Said Balin, in an introductory way. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], from far places."

The dwarf who you assumed was Dwalin-- buff, sleeveless, and with viscious muttonchops that made him look like Wolverine-- scoffed. "Tell me," Holy shit, he sounds like Leonidas from 300! "[Y/N], do you perhaps come from the Iron Hills?"

"Iron... What?" You were confused. Hadn't any of the Elves talked about you being from Earth? "N...No. I come from a place called Earth."

"Dwalin," Said the other guy, who radiated kingship, authority, and regal dwarfish-ness. He didn't take his eyes off you, like you were a predator ready to strike that he was wary of. He had a beard, but braided neatly down, and long dark hair. He wore dark navy blue and brown fur armor, and his voice was like, super deep. "They are not of the Iron Hills."

"Uh... Thank you?"

Thorin stood, and you bowed. "I'd uh, use some really respectful greeting, but I don't know any in dwarvish yet, so, it's an honor to meet you, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin nodded. "I would say the same, if I knew you deserved any honor," He replied. Ouch.

You didn't know what to say. He obviously had no love for Elves. "What uh... What made you think I was from the Iron Hills, wherever that is?"

"To the east of Erebor, [lad/lass/y-o]," Balin informed you, and Dwalin whacked him so hard upside the head you could've swore they broke something.

"Oh. What made you think--"

Thorin looked at you with a look that said stfu so you did. "The dwarves of Erebor think little of Elven magic, or wizards. We did not believe a portal strong enough to pull someone from another world could exist. And as I have discovered, it does not."

You were confused. "What do you mean? You mean the ears? Those were latex, I swear, but suddenly they weren't. You can ask Thranduil, I'm not from these parts."

Thorin glared at you. "I would rather not converse with the Elvenking. He does not hear the word of others. As for you... It is clear you are merely an Elf of strange upbringing, who lost themselves in the wrong woods."

"Okay," You were starting to get irritated. You loved Middle-Earth, but you weren't from Middle-Earth. You didn't belong, like always, and you were ready to defend your position. In Game of Thrones--you'd never gotten far in that series, and had only started the books-- Tyrion Lannister told Jon Snow to armor himself in what people thought his weakness was, so that it would no longer be his weakness. That's exactly what you'd done over the course of your life, and you weren't about to lose that now. "Listen, I can show you the damn portal. It wasn't made by Elves, or wizards, or any of that other shit. The inscription on the portal came from the time of Gondolin, if that means anything to you. Do I talk like an Elf, to you? Do I act like one? The Elves were ready to kill me, just because I breathed wrong near their damn trees after being chased by orcs on oversized dogs. If I weren't from another world, do you honestly think I'd have such elaborate stories?"

Behind Thorin, Balin patted his hands down, giving you the silent signal to shut up. Glacing at Thorin's pissed off face made you listen. "How am I to believe you?"

You made a face. "Don't you dwarves have any kind of lie-detecting abilites?"

Balin sighed. "None that we can think of, [lad/lass/y-o]."

You huffed in defeat. "Okay, okay, you know what? You dwarves are beyond stubborn, so I'll just tell you once: I come from another world. If you don't believe me, fine, but I'd actually like to make friends with dwarves, thank you very much."

"Oh!" Dwalin chuckled deeply. "Then they must not be an Elf, Thorin! None in their right mind would go cavorting with a dwarf!"

Thorin frowned. "Perhaps a spy... But wait... You are not of the Woodland Elves. I see that now."

You looked down at yourself. "Gee, what gave it away?"

"You carry yourself differently," He began to circle you, and you felt like you were being circled by a vulture. An angry vulture... "Most unlike them, or any Elf I have heard tale of. Whom were you raised by?"

"Uh, my mother," You quipped with a cocked eyebrow. "Her name is [M/N]."

"And where do your kin reside? With the Rangers of Dúnadain?"

"With the what? Is that some kind of club?"

"Club?" Thorin repeated. "You believe that to be a weapon?" He gave you a disbelieving look, and you sighed.

"No, no. Where I come from, a club is a group of people that gather together and talk about stuff they like, or try to run the schools or shit like that," You were trying to explain with excessive hand movements, but you only seemed to be freaking him out.

He narrowed his eyes. In a rough and rusty language that sounded like it could be dwarvish, he said something; you didn't even catch any of the words.

You stared at him blankly for a second. "Mae g'ovannen...?" You tried, wincing at your hopeless pronunciation of the words.

Thorin regarded you with a newfound look of awe. Behind him, Dwalin chuckled. "That, was his attempt at Elvish. And you did not understand what he said?"

You stared. "...No? Was I supposed to? Did you just say something important? Or insult me? Hey, I'm only just starting to learn Sindarin!"

Thorin's look of awe shifted to a scowl and a bitter smirk. "It was not Sindarin, I can assure you. It was Quendi, that of the Noldor, the only Elvish my people know."

"Quen-- Oh, I get it now. Different Elves, different languages, it's all coming together..." You swung your arms casually. "Ok, so, what'd you say?"

"I told you that you are an imposter, and no better than Orc-filth" Said Thorin absentmindedly, "Which would send any Elf into a fit of well-groomed rage."

You couldn't help yourself. You burst into a fit of giggles, making all three dwarves look at you weirdly. "I-I'm sorry," You wheezed, "'Well-groomed rage'; yeah, that's pretty much what they do!"

"What of this quest, then?" Challenged Thorin as he took a seat. He gestured for you to do the same. "If you are not of the Wood Elves, yet you are indeed Elven, why are you on this journey? What purpose do you have here?" He poured you a drink; you'd never really tasted ale or mead of any kind, and recoiled from the smell.

"In order for you to understand, I'd have to tell you the story," You told him, and he gestured for you to continue. So you did. "I fell from the highest branches of an oak tree playing a game with my family. It was a standard day. Standard, pointless life. A life in a dying world that was way too fucking overpopulated, in the wrong damn places. It was a twisted kind of home. I didn't like it, and did what I wanted, so people hated me. I was dressed as an Elf--hence the ears.

"I wake up in the middle of the night, still in the forest, and am suddenly being chased by orcs on the backs of oversized dogs with six-packs on their faces."

Thorin grew confused. "Six-pack? What is that?"

You patted your stomach. "Those rows of six square tight muscles you get on you stomach if you work out. Now lemme finish!

"I get caught up in a river, shot by an arrow, and am half-dead by the time the Elves arrive lead by Blue-Eyes-- uh, Legolas-- and they're ready to kill me, but because I'm pretty much dead and in their forest, I'm some kind of threat. Because they're real nice like that. Thranduil-- who I kindly refer to as, Lord Fabulous-- wanted Leggy to kill me on the spot. Blade to my neck and everything. Until I pointed out that I could go home if we found the portal and would never return by pain of death. Ouch, but whatever.

"So we look, find it, and surprise! Can't get through. Can never see my family again. Can never go home. Suddenly I'm a real Elf. I go into a kind of depression before I realize that this place was a fictional world from where I'm from, which I'd loved, but for some reason can't remember shit now." You pointed to him. "Your name is important. Very. I know that much. You do something really cool, probably.

"But the Council of Wisdomy Guys was summoned, and they decided that it would be best if I proved my worthiness to stay among the Wood Elves on this mission. No pressure!" You grinned maniacally. "What brings you here? I hear a certain gray-robed wizard?"

"Ah, yes," He sighed. "Gandalf. My father met with him whilst I was in the depths of Erebor, so I heard no word of it and could make no protest against it until my father told me that I was to travel with two of my choice to assist the Elves. I only tolerate this for my father's sake, and he claims this will be a good lesson for kingship one day. But when I heard word of someone from foreign lands, I feared it was the dwarves of the Iron Hills attempting some form of scheme. Never have they liked us, and they never shall."

You scoffed. "Yeah, well... Most of the Elves may not like you either, but some of them aren't so bad."

Dwalin choked on his bread. Balin gave you a sad look. "But they tried to kill you!"

You shrugged. "I'm used to getting awful treatment. And besides, now that they know me, I've made some friends. Tauríel, the Captain of the Guard; Lindir of Rivendell, and Elros son of Elrond... And then there's Blue-- Legolas."

"Why d'ya refer to him that way?" Dwalin demanded with a disgusted look.

You shrugged. "A nickname. Where I come from, it's a gesture of friendship. I call Lindir 'Lindy' and he hates it, I can tell."

Thorin snorted. "Well, [Y/N] of Earth... Should the Wood Elves refuse your company, Dale might make a nice, temporary placement until you find elsewhere."

You smirked, nodding slowly. "I heard that emphasis on temporary. Don't worry; I thank you for your hospitality, but Lord Elrond is staying at the palace until I return. If I fail, he'll take me back to Rivendell with him."

"Good. One less Elf on our borders to deal with."

"Oh screw off."

Thorin grinned bitterly, but waved a hand. "Begone, I am done with questioning you."

You scoffed, and Dwalin took your drink and guzzled it. to your shock and amazement. Out of the three of them, only Balin wished you a goodnight.

But you weren't tired, which you realized as you found yourself heading back toward the horses. "[Y/N]," Said a familiar voice, and you turned to see Haldir striding toward you.

You bowed, suddenly recognizing him as somebody of high rank. "Mae l'ovannen, Haldir of Lothlorien. What's up?"

He blinked in confusion. "I..." He slowly looked up. "Believe the stars..."

You chuckled. "No, no; that's an expression, where I come from. It means how are you doing, what is it you need, nice to see you, etcetera etcetera."

He stared at you. "...'Et... Cetera...?'"

You slumped over. "Oi... It means a general list of similar meanings that're implied but nobody feels like saying."

Haldir smiled. "Oh, I see. Lindir wished for you to return, so that you could continue your lessons in Sindarin." He didn't miss your look of disappointment. He smirked. "Perhaps, when you are finished with Sindarin, and already know Common, Quenyan would be best for you to learn."

"Pfft," You waved a hand. "I'll live forever. Might as well. I'll toss some dwarvish in there while I'm at it."

Haldir made a face. "I suppose that is up to you, but every dwarf speaks Common, so it would not pose any form of language barrier for that to be avoided..."

*** You were woken up no later than the crack of fucking dawn, by an elaborate blowing of horns that probably alerted ninety-seven percent of the orcs of the northern borders to your presence, but oh what the hell.

What else you woke up to?

"Galu, mellon nin," Said Legolas with a shit-eating grin. "Ci maer?"

Slowly, your groggy eyes went from wide to thin, angry slits. "...I swear to the Valar, Blue-Eyes... I just fucking woke up. What are you saying? Speak in Common, or I'll tear you limb from limb because I am not a morning person."

He gave you a look, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "Le leich, Sairen. But if you are going to learn Elvish, then you must actually try to do so. Tell me, what did I say?"

You shrugged and slumped over onto a log. "Grapefruit, melons win, kid mobster."

Blue-Eyes chuckled, but internally, you busted out laughing after realizing what you said. "No, [Y/N], you have to do this. Concentrate. What did I say?"

With a sigh, you thought about Lindir's grueling lessons with you yesterday. "...You said, 'A blessing,' which is basically 'hi,' first; Galu. Then you said 'my friend,' and, 'are you well.'"

Blue-Eyes nodded, looking excited that you were getting the hang of Elvish. "Excellent. Now respond to me in Sindarin."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. In the most unenthusiastic tone you could muster, you said, "Galu, Legolas, ni maer. A gin?" Blessings, Legolas, I am well. And you?

"Ni maer," He replied, then began polishing his bow. "Worry not, Sairen, soon Sindarin will come to you thoughtlessly. You already swear to our gods, instead of your own."

You did roll your eyes this time. An idea hit you. "Hey..." You looked at him with a huge smirk. "What's fuck you in Elvish?"

Legolas paled, then blushed. "You will learn how to speak intimately to another later--"

You huffed. "NO! What's your most offensive insult?!"

Blue-Eyes thought for a minute. "...Ego, which is the equivalent to what you mean when you proclaim that Common phrase of yours... Hopefully, most of the time."

You bit back a laugh. "...Eggo? As in, L'eggo my eggo?"

Blue-Eyes gave you a concerned look. "I... I am not sure what you mean, and it is not pronounced as you say it."

Commotion started up, and you spun around in your seat wildly to try and see why everybody was suddenly moving and packing up. "What's goin' on?"

Legolas smiled. "Well, Sairen, we are off to track the orcs."

You looked at him in a panic, pointing futilely to an Elf packing up the cooking supplies. "B-but... What about breakfast?" That sentence reminded you of someone... Someone small and innocent and prone to causing disasters... But who? Blue-Eyes didn't give you time to figure it out.

"You will not starve, mellon nin," He told you gently, and stood. "You are an Eldar now; you'd best learn what your body can do now rather than later." He smiled down at you. "Dadwenithon."

As if you understood what that meant, he practically skipped away. "...Dad marathon?" You repeated in disbelief. You got up and went to find somebody you knew, preferably not the Elvenqueen, Erestor, Haldir, or Thorin, because they'd just find you childish, or annoying. Elros was quick to find, and you approached him and his palomino steed with a very confused expression.

"Hey Elros?"

Elros looked up from brushing his horse's mane and smiled. "Ai, len suilon, mellon nin. Ci maer?"

You rolled your eyes. Stupid Elves and their five hundred different ways to say 'hi...' "Galu, Elros. Ni maer, a gin?"

"Ni maer eithro. What brings you to my company?"

"What the hell does dad marathon mean?"

Elros froze and looked at you like you were crazy. "I beg your pardon?"

You gestured wildly over your shoulder. "Legolas got up, walked away, and said dad marathon! And I've got no idea what he said!"

Elros grinned knowingly. "Ai,Legolas said dadwenithon. It means, roughly, I will return." He gave you a disgusted look. "And that is not how it is pronounced at all."

"Oh. Dadwenithon?"

Elros smiled proudly. "Yes! Precisely! Well done! But if Legolas told you he would return to you, evidently he meant for you to stay where you were."

Your eyes bugged out of your head. "Oh. I'll be going, then. Novaer." You didn't realize you'd said an Elvish farewell until you'd reached where you'd originally been seated, but that jumped out of your head when you seen Legolas waiting with his dappled mare and the black stallion (Heh heh...) from yesterday.

"Ooh! What's this all about?"

"I decided you should have your own mount throughout the course of this journey," He replied with a smile. "He is yours for now. Name him as you will, and by the end of this journey, I shall see if you may keep him."

You stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Wh... What? Keep him?"

Legolas smiled. "Surely you would wish to ride at will throughout the northern parts of Mirkwood?"

A huge smile spread across your face, and you excitedly spread your hands. "Well, duh! Gin hannon, Legolas! I'll call him..." You took the reins and looked him in the eye. "Starlight. I've always wanted a black horse called Starlight."

Blue-Eyes patted your back. "Well done, mellon. Already, Elvish is beginning to seep into your speech."

You looked at him in surprise. "I did that on purpose you dumb blond."

Legolas's eyes widened slightly. "Man?" Which you understood as, What?

You stuck your tongue out at him and crossed your eyes. "Blehlehleh!"

He recoiled. "What are you doing?"

With a laugh, you stroked Starlight's muzzle. "Messing with you. So you get up from the left side, right?"

Blue-Eyes just looked at you like you were crazy, then shook his head. "Yes, I suppose."

You went around to the left flank of the steed, which snorted suspiciously at you, like it wanted to know what the fuck you were doing. You peered at Blue-Eyes over the stallion's back. "Gimme a leg up?"

Legolas flushed and stared at you blankly. "If that is one of your vulgar insults, I swear to Illuvatar..."

A laugh escaped your throat. "No! Hell no! It means help me up, you moron!"

A sweet smile crossed Blue-Eye's features. "Well, then, come here, mellon nin, and I will aid you." He interlaced his fingers together as he bent down, allowing you to grip both ends of the saddle, step into his hand, and haul yourself up. You nearly fell off the other side, but just managed to catch yourself before you made yourself look like a complete idiot in front of Blue-Eyes, who noticed your struggle but said nothing, to your sweet relief.

Elros trotted through camp on his palomino, saying "Und wendo'hein!"

Legolas mounted his dapple-gray, and looked you up and down. "You are not sitting correctly." He told you, and reached over to pull your shoulders back. "Your shoulders need to make a line to your ankles in the stirrups."

You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Great, now you sound like my collection of Young Rider magazines."

"Your what?" Legolas looked almost offended.

"It's basically a book only about twenty pages long made of cheap paper and filled with random tidbits of information. This series I started collecting when I was eight or nine, then continued until I was about twelve, thirteen... I had a lot of them. I loved horses."

Blue-Eyes furrowed his brow. "Did you have one?"

You scoffed. "In my world, you either have to be rich like Saddle Club or own a farm like Racing Stripes. Or, by some miracle get saved by a badass black Arabian stallion on a desert island." You smiled cheekily at him. "Which, by the way, your facial structure really reminds me of an Arabian horse's. Dished, kinda. And perfect and majestic and all that shit."

Blue-Eyes just looked like he was suddenly being attacked by a pack of savage wargs and he wasn't quite sure what to do. You grinned, and did the first thing all of the books and movies you'd read as a kid had taught you: gently tap your heels into the horse's flanks, and carefully guide their head with the reins. Starlight tossed his head, eager to get moving at a faster pace, and nickered softly as he started off at a walk. Legolas beamed at you as he rode beside you. "Well well, Sairen, it seems you are a natural at riding a horse. Perhaps the blood of the Eldar is finally starting to take a hold of you."

"Not quite," Said a new voice, and Lindir rode up on a sleek bay with a mischievous smile. "Suilad, Legolas! [Y/N]! Your Elvish is improving, but you still need to learn more."

You slumped in the saddle. "Augh, man, do I have to?"

Legolas and Lindir grinned wickedly at each other. "Ai, Lindir, man í lú?"

"Ú, Legolas. Eithro, ci maer?"

"Ni maer, mellon nin, ni maer."

So for a whole five or six hours on the trip, you got bombarded on either side by Blue-Eyes and Lindir trying to teach you Sindarin. At the end of the day, the Elvenqueen asked you for another story, so you told her the first one that popped into your head that you could honestly remember most of: Alladin's Lamp. It had been your favorite fairytail as a child, and while it was meant for younger audiences, the Elves enjoyed it just as much.

Then, Thorin asked to see you again. He asked about your world, and what it was like, and you were happy to get to know them, even if you were an Elf now.

And that's how it went, for the next few weeks. Unfortunately, at some point you'd run out of memorized storybooks, so you focused on myths from various mythologies, and then, even movies. 300 seemed to be a favorite of Thorin's, who overheard, but the Elves were especially interested in Gods of Egypt and The Hunger Games, and the Jedi from Star Wars. When you ran out of that material (It was a long trip with long nights, because apparently Elves didn't really get the concept of sleep.), you even switched to games; Darksiders and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim got their attention, as did The Legend of Zelda.

But of all the damned stories you told them, they seemed most interested in Shakespeare, of all things. You only barely remembered reading Midsummer Night's Dream out of curiosity, but Romeo and Juliet, thankfully, everybody knew the gist of. Thanks to a certain Tom Hiddleston, you knew Coriolanus by heart, so that one wasn't too hard of a story to tell, and neither was (Onc you finally got them off of Shakespeare.) Pirates of the Caribbean, a classic for you, which, one of the characters, now that you thought of it... Will Turner... You couldn't quite remember his face, or Balian's from Kingdom of Heaven, which they all really liked, especially Legolas.

Eventually, the queen dubbed you Taleweaver, which you thought sounded pretty cool, but also a little nerve-wracking, because what if you ran out of stories to tell? You forced yourself to be casual. No worries. You were a writer, after all, just... Now your audience consisted of fantasy people instead of Tumblr bloggers.

No pressure.

One day, Legolas approached you alone as you groomed Starlight. "Yo," You said, s'upping him. "S'up?"

Blue-Eyes looked like you'd just thrown something at him. "Man?" You rolled your eyes. "Galu, mellon, galu. What is it?"

Legolas scoffed. "My mother has declared only a small party of us, including the dwarves, shall scout ahead and see if we can find their trail. Of the party is myself, Elros, Erestor, Haldir, and... you."

You pointed to yourself. "M...Me? The queen specifically requested me to go with you?" You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Whhhhhhyyyyyyy???"

Blue-Eyes glared at you as he stroked Starlight's muzzle. "It is nothing out of the ordinary. You wish to prove yourself to my father, do you not? I would like for you to stay in the Mirkwood as well, Sairen, so do not disappoint me."

"Well," You looked up at Starlight's face. "No pressure, right?"

Legolas smiled cheekily. "Not at all." He patted your back. "We begin at dawn tomorrow. Meet me by Starlight once you've woken, and we shall begin." He walked away, but half-turned to call out, "Do not be late!"

You nodded in exasperation, but as soon as he was gone, sighed and placed your face on Starlight's neck. "Mission," You hissed under your breath, just really wishing Lord Fabulous didn't have to be such a jackass. "Impossible."

Tag List:

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Le leich= You’re sweet

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cheshiresense · 5 years

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Oooh! Um... How about Kisuke/Yoruichi/Ichigo? Shadowrun AU (Fantasy AU if you don't know Shadowrun)

Lol I have no idea what Shadowrun is, did a quick google and it’s something like magic + cyberpunk + vaguely futuristic post-apocalyptic setting + virtual reality?? Omg it’s too complicated to write just from reading the wiki lmao, I’ll just give you a cyberpunk fantasy AU.

Edit: This got away from me a bit whoops.

1. Kisuke is your average humble toymaker in the Slums who may or may not supply the underground Robin Hood-esque rebel faction Visored with not-so-average weapons and prosthetics and various repairs and upgrades. The Visored are pretty much wanted in every kingdom in existence, partly because half of them used to be nobles themselves and were part of the minority who hated the way they treated their citizens, mostly because they keep fucking with the other nobles, but no one except said nobles actually wants them to stop because everybody who isn’t nobility pretty much hates those who are. Mostly, it’s the three neighbouring kingdoms - Seireitei, Silbern, and Las Noches - sitting cozy up in their walled off flourishing cities up high, constantly at war with each other but with plenty to eat and plenty of money to fund their large-scale chess games, and paying almost zero attention to the poor and homeless outside their walls. That doesn’t stop them from forcibly conscripting the lower class as cannon fodder or using the Slums as their personal dumping grounds or imprisoning or executing anyone they decide is breaking one law or another. Kisuke’s stayed under the radar so far, so nobody knows he’s the man even more wanted than the Visored, if only for his prodigal skills with cybertech. He’s the one who built their equipment and vehicles, who repaired Hiyori’s spine after she’d been left unable to walk from an ambush and produced a new arm for Hachi after it was cut off in a skirmish, both of which work just as well as the original parts. Most of the nobles either want to kill him or “hire” him. But a toymaker in the Slums who cobbles together tiny cats and dragons and chickens and pixies out of scrap metal for children to play with isn’t anything to look twice at.

2. Here is a secret only a handful of people know - Shihouin Yoruichi was born a cripple. She couldn’t walk, at all, and even the best prosthetics money could buy from the various cybertech companies were clunky and awkward and only allowed her to limp a certain distance. Her family, one of the great noble houses of Seireitei that specialized in seduction and assassination, hid her away out of shame, right up until a rebellious teenaged Yoruichi had had enough and snuck out one night on nothing but her wobbly fake legs and a crutch. She’d spent enough time on her own for the majority of her childhood to know just about every passageway and secret door that snaked through the length and width of Seireitei. She didn’t stop until she appeared in the Slums, and she fainted from exhaustion and hunger only a few days later, but she never looked back. Kisuke found her, took her in, and then made her legs on a whim, upgrading them every time he figured out something new and better that he could add to them. In exchange, Yoruichi used her newfound mobility to retrieve better materials for Kisuke, robbing delivery trucks en route to Seireitei’s cybertech companies or outright stealing from her own family’s weapons storage. Anything they could buy, Kisuke could reverse-engineer and make better. Ten years after she left her old life behind, her legs are a work of art, connected to her nerves to give her complete control over them but granting her superhuman speed and jumping ability, and she’d practiced enough with them over the years that her mind had no problems keeping up with both. The prosthetics are lightweight but strong enough to withstand the swing of a blade or the impact of a bullet, and she would give a lot to see her family’s faces if they ever realize just who has been ransacking their vaults.

3. Most people carry some kind of weapon these days, but the best - for those who can afford them, or can call Kisuke a friend - can take the form of a companion when not in combat. Shinji’s is in the shape of a sphinx, all sleek lines and feline flexibility, but one that shifts into a sword in a silent whir of pulsing blue lines and polished metal at his command. Mashiro’s is a pixie, not unlike the toys commonly seen in Kisuke’s part of the Slums, except hers includes translucent wings threaded with pale green wiring. It’s perpetually perched on her shoulder, but in a fight, the pixie fuses with her hands and legs, the wings melting and sliding over her skin like liquid mercury to form gloves and boots that increase the power of her kicks and punches.

Yoruichi’s is a black cat but nobody actually knows what kind of weapon it can turn into. More often than not, Yoruichi sends it off as a spy because the thing is so realistic nobody can actually tell it’s not a real animal unless they get close enough to see the delicate wiring in its yellow eyes.

Nobody’s ever seen Kisuke’s either, weapon or otherwise, until a spy from a cybertech company snoops too closely around his shop. Then the other occupants get front-row seats to the bright red threads that extend from his hands - hands that light up with the many, many upgrades inside, a complicated maze of crimson circuits swirling beneath his flesh - and attach themselves to their target like strings on a puppet. At least he takes it out back before he literally rips the spy apart.

4. Once upon a time, before Yoruichi was even born, there were five noble houses instead of four. But the fall of the Shiba Clan is never talked about, and most don’t even remember the details anymore, only that most were put to the sword and the rest were scattered. One of the runners in Kisuke’s employ - the many who scrounge through the Slums’s trash heaps for parts Kisuke might find useful - is a boy on the cusp of twenty who looks uncannily like the last Shiba clan head before the family’s collapse. He goes by Ichigo and doesn’t seem aware of his lineage, and if he notices the way Shinji almost always makes an appearance when he comes in with his haul, and his payment always ends up including several extra portions of food and some high-grade medical supplies and even a new change of clothes now and then, he never says anything. After they find out he has two little sisters to feed, a handful of toys get bundled in as well, free of charge.

Kisuke wouldn’t know a Shiba from a Shihouin, and Yoruichi’s family never bothered teaching her all the things an heir or even just an average noble-born child would’ve needed to know, so neither of them treats Ichigo differently because of his blood or background. They do treat him differently because none of Kisuke’s runners have lasted as long as Ichigo. Sooner or later, they disappear, arrested by guards or killed in a back alley scuffle. Ichigo slinks into the shop at fifteen and still comes around every week like clockwork five years later. He always shows up with a decent haul too, and once, Yoruichi follows him, just to see where he’s getting his loot because surely most of the trash pits in the area have been picked clean over the years? There’s always more added to them, but not at the rate Ichigo is scrounging materials. So Yoruichi follows him one day when he leaves and that’s how they find out about his sisters and the makeshift hole in the wall they live in, shabby-looking on the outside but clean and cozy on the inside and insulated well from the cold. That’s also how they find out about all the enhancements Ichigo has, because Yoruichi makes the mistake of underestimating him and almost gets beheaded when he disappears and almost shivs her from behind with a hand-turned-blade, teeth bared like an animal as his eyes burn with golden circuitry.

(The Shiba Clan had been widely feared, once upon a time, for their genius in the more explosive weaponry and their talent with artificial intelligence and robotics and other biological cybertech enhancements. It was why they’d been so swiftly sentenced to death when they’d come down on the side of the poorfolk. Even one Shiba would’ve been equivalent to having a small army in one’s arsenal.)

Ichigo moved faster, jumped higher, hit harder, than anything Yoruichi had ever come up against. The crack of his heel coming down against the ground shattered rock and cement everywhere, and the only thing that saved her life that day was her dodging ability and a quickly shouted explanation for why she’d followed him in the first place. Ichigo wasn’t unreasonable, even if he wasn’t entirely human. His enhancements explained how he could move further through the Slums for loot and still put down roots in the area. It took some coaxing and several dozen more months of coming and going from the shop, but eventually, he’d also admitted that he didn’t know where his enhancements had come from, he couldn’t remember anything from before waking up the Slums with two regular human toddlers who called him brother depending on him. The only thing imprinted in his memory were the directives: 1) Take Care of Your Sisters, and 2) Survive.

But he was the most powerful thing around for miles, and Kisuke was fascinated because the work done on Ichigo was only vaguely like his own, and far more advanced than anything the nobility churned out these days. Yoruichi didn’t care as much, but she liked having a new sparring partner, not to mention Ichigo was very easy on the eyes, and a few more years on him meant Yoruichi could appreciate the sight without feeling like she was preying on a child.

Ichigo kept coming back, and eventually Kisuke managed to wheedle Ichigo into getting a checkup and upgrades, especially when he started outgrowing a few of his joint ports. Yoruichi watched the two of them make moon eyes at each other, listened to Kisuke ramble about something Ichigo told him the day before, noted the way Ichigo’s eyes sometimes strayed to Kisuke when the man wandered outside without a shirt and his pants on backwards after too many hours in his lab, and she was almost tempted to lock them in a closet together.

(She doesn’t notice the way Kisuke smiles indulgently at her when she comes home from a trip into Seireitei with an icebox of fresh strawberries from the Kuchikis infamous gardens because they’re Ichigo’s favourite, nor does she see Ichigo blink and cock his head in new understanding sometimes when he observes the way she drapes herself over Kisuke, comfortable and relaxed, but never does it with anyone else.)

In the world they live in though, trust is more important than love. Yoruichi has trusted Kisuke since she met him, and Kisuke’s trusted her since she was down two legs and still flung herself between him and a thief with a knife who thought the shop easy pickings. And the day Ichigo brings his sisters over and lets them run around out of his sight is the day they know he trusts them. It’s only natural to offer him and his little family a room of their own at the shop.

5. The day Yoruichi comes back with news of the Silbern Kingdom’s royal family and Las Noches’ royal family both being overthrown by several of their own noble families - the Ishidas and the Kurosakis, and the Coyotes, the Tu Odelschwancks, the Cifers, and the Jaegerjaquezs respectively - is the same day Shinji comes to them and tells them about the revolution movement that’s been in the works for a while now, about the remains of the Shiba Clan currently helping the Ishidas and Kurosakis take over Silbern, and about Ichigo’s own past - memory wiped for his own good because rumours of a Shiba child successfully integrated with his clan’s still experimental but groundbreaking technology had leaked, and if they’d gotten their hands on him, they would’ve turned him into their weapon. Better to hide him in the Slums, along with his two sisters who wouldn’t be of any use in a war for several more years, until they need him again, which they do now, because as soon as Silbern and Las Noches are theirs, they’ll be moving on to Seireitei post haste, and a two-pronged attack while the Gotei is still scrambling to defend themselves would hit them hardest, because for all that the kingdoms have been at war with each other for years, it had never been so direct, nor had their goals ever moved beyond poaching each other’s technologies. But for the revolution movement to succeed, they need Ichigo on their side, and it wouldn’t hurt for Kisuke and Yoruichi to join them too, technically Kisuke’s been their weapons-backer for years, and Yoruichi’s been their ear to the ground in Seireitei for just as long, and they’ll need all hands on deck. The kids can be left with Tessai.

Ichigo storms out. Yoruichi demands to know why they were never told before. And Kisuke surveys a tense-looking Shinji (who explains that it was supposed to be for their safety too - because Yoruichi was their only successful spy in Seireitei, and very, very few could match Kisuke’s genius, and it was just better to keep them out of the way) from beneath his hat before smiling blandly and promptly catching the man with a flick of his hand and five threads, unceremoniously tossing him out the window before he and Yoruichi both go to find Ichigo. It doesn’t take a genius to guess he’d returned to the hole-in-the-wall home he’d made for his sisters, and they join him after Ichigo acknowledges them with a jerk of his shoulders. They don’t speak right away, Ichigo sitting in stony silence, Yoruichi curled on one side of him still seething, Kisuke on his other, absently flexing one red-tinted hand in that way he only does when he’s contemplating murder.

They’ll help, all three of them. They don’t even need to discuss that. It’s high time for the upper-class to get their lives shaken up, the Slums are a disgrace, and if they have the chance to change that, they’ll take it, even if it means working beside people who have been using them for their own ends without giving them so much as a heads-up. Or in Ichigo’s case, will be using him since it’s pretty apparent he might not be the Gotei’s weapon but he is still very much the Shibas’ weapon, reserved for emergencies.

“Regimes come and go every day,” Kisuke remarks first, right hand fanning open, then closing, then opening again, crimson circuits shimmering along the vein lines of his palm.

“What a shame,” Yoruichi agrees with a grin that’s two-parts teeth and all-parts spite.

“…Three of us against three kingdoms that’ve just taken a beating?” Ichigo muses, but his eyes flare gold, and he’s smiling too. “Sounds like fun.”

#headcanon meme: answered #bleach #uraichiyoru #urahara kisuke #shihouin yoruichi #kurosaki ichigo #cyberpunk au #fantasy au #aniseandspearmint #headcanon

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samyazaz · 4 years

Note

This is a little more specific than, y'know, a general AU setting, but if you're feeling it, PQT, Gravity AU, and, honestly any trope, but it's them, so perhaps Only One Bed?

Ewhoza glances back at the huddled group of them, one brow lifted like he’s expecting something, before he presses his palm flat to the scanner set into the wall. Its light glows a moment, just long enough for Quil to tip her head and wonder if maybe it wasn’t expectation at all, maybe he’s just wanting to show off, when they all know that Quil could have released the pneumatics with a thought. He doesn’t even bother to remind her to wipe the access records so Security won’t know they’ve been here, but she thinks it’s more out of arrogance than any sort of confidence in her, and so she’s frowning, exasperated, when the locks release with a hiss, and the doors slide open.

It’s the light that strikes her first, the warm, verdant brightness of it, and the frown falls off of her face as she gives a swift gasp, and then loses her breath all at once as her lungs flood with air so heavy with scents that her mind reels at the onslaught, even as the part of her that’s the ship sorts and filters and categorizes, tells her Loam, and Herbs, and Wet earth, and Greenery.

She stumbles forward, heedless for once of the unceasing analytic stream of thoughts flowing through her mind, only distantly aware of the others doing the same around her, looking just as stunned as she feels.

She knew there were hydroponic gardens on upsilon level, of course. She knows everything about the ship. Almost everything. Everything they didn’t deem it to dangerous for her to know, like her psych evals, her past, her name. Who she was, before they made her Tranquility.

She knew there were hydroponic gardens on upsilon level, knew they produce enough food to provide for the caloric needs of every person on board with enough to spare for seed and for compost, she knew how much of their water stores they required and the precise wattage that the lights drew, and somehow it had never occurred to her to put these pieces together and imagine this, a vast, endless expanse of hydroponics, stacked up to the ceiling and stretching out as far as the eye can see, farther, so everywhere she looks, all she sees is light and green.

“How...” she breathes, stumbling forward, down one of the rows left between the structures. “How...” She flinches, then laughs breathlessly, when the reaching leaves of a tomato plant brush her cheek.

Behind her, Ewhoza’s voice is dry, a little mocking. “How did you think we’ve been feeding all these people, all these years?”

She shakes her head, because that’s not what she meant. “I know, but... how did I not realize?” Somewhere on the edge of her awareness there’s a humming noise, like the machines she spent her life wired into, like the thrum of the ship around them. Like the rushing in her ears after they released her and brought her back, in the ill, disoriented moment before the world went black around her. She reaches for her sensor data, but she — the ship — is fine. She fights the urge to sit and stick her head between her knees. Her stomach isn’t twisted like it had been before. Her skin isn’t hot. Her vision seems normal, if half-dazzled by the brilliance of the green all around her.

A hand touches her shoulder, pulling her back to herself, to the herself that is contained within her skin. Phi is at her side, looking at her with a concerned, unvoiced question written plain on her face. Terry’s just beside her, looking no less alarmed. Beyond them, Ewhoza is saying, “—no one ever stops to consider how we do all that we do for everyone, do they?” and his tone is at odds with his words, is a little sad and a little lost, instead of the righteous belligerence she might have expected of him. It startles her to realize that he was answering her, in a fashion, though her question hadn’t been meant for him, hadn’t been meant for anyone, really, except perhaps herself.

“I’m all right,” she says to Phi and to Terry, quietly.

Phi nods once, taking her at her word but keeping a light touch on her shoulder all the same. Terry looks only half-reassured, but he moves a step away, his hand on Phi’s elbow drawing her with him, and hers on Quil drawing Quil along after as well. “Let’s go see what we can find that’s ripe. Do you think you can eat, Quil?”

“I can try,” she says, unhelpfully, because she can know in a fraction of a fraction of a second if a single lightbulb ten levels down and halfway across the ship has burnt out, but she still doesn’t understand how her own body works half the time.

It’s enough for them all the same, though, because they guide her off, deeper into the field of greenery, and each row that they walk down smells different than the last, this one sharp and fresh and pungent, the next floral and sweet. They pluck a berry here, a leaf there, and they pass the best of each to her and watch her sidelong when she eats them dutifully, smiling with happiness and enjoyment, at the bursts of flavor upon her tongue and at the company and at the feeling like they’ve gotten themselves lost in the dense jungle of the hydroponic towers, even though it’s not possible for her to really ever be.

The humming starts again and she stops still. Phi and Terry turn back to her, looking concerned once more, but she shakes her head, says, “I’m all right, I just— Do you hear that?”

Phi tips her head like she’s puzzled, or like she’s listening for it too, and Terry looks around, uncertain but searching, but it fades and then comes again, louder, and Quil does feel like her legs are going to collapse underneath her but she doesn’t feel like she did when she lost consciousness and she doesn’t understand why.

“Oh,” Terry says, his expression clearing, and the humming stops just as it’s reached its loudest. “Is that what you heard? Here, hold still.” He reaches towards her. His fingers brush, almost tickling, against the side of her neck, and the sound begins again, and fades sharply. “It’s all right. It was a bee, I think. It must be a bee. They’re pollinators, aren’t they?”

“A bee?” She whirls in the direction the sound vanished, searching the green all around them. “Where?”

“It’s all right,” Terry says again. “It’s flown off now.”

“Oh,” Quil gasps, and her legs are going to give out on her, they are, but they can’t, not now, not when she needs them. “Where?”

She takes off in the direction the sound had disappeared, pushing through the narrow spaces between structures that had never ben meant to be pathways, until another humming noise darts past her and this time she’s able to spot it, to track it, a small golden shape flitting amongst all that green.

She follows it until it’s joined by another, by a third, and her heart is pounding and she can scarcely breathe. She pushes through row after row of hydroponics, until all at once the space opens up before her and there’s a gap, just big enough to make space for a series of narrow, sleek towers, featureless but for the narrow, slitted openings at regular intervals through which more bees are coming and going, dozens of them, hundreds. Thousands.

She stops still, abruptly enough that Phi and Terry behind her nearly crash into her. They catch themselves and then they stand there, all three of them breathing hard. Phi and Terry eye the hives, a little, but mostly they’re watching Quil, but Quil can’t look away.

“I forgot,” she breathes, and her voice cracks, and then breaks. “How could I forget? How—“ Her eyes burn. She doesn’t remember what it means until the tears drip hot down her cheeks. “How could they take this from me?”

Phi looks back and forth between her and the hives, and understanding downs in her eyes, but it’s Terry who says it, his voice so tight with upset that it quivers like a plucked string: “In your psych eval vids. You said you worked in the horticulture division, before.”

“I thought it just meant plants. I thought it meant working the gardens. I didn’t think—” Her voice breaks, goes sharp all around the edges like glass, and she shakes with fury. “They made sure I didn’t. That I couldn’t. Didn’t they?”

Neither of them answer her right away, but the glance they exchange, the bleak looks on their faces, is answer enough.

Quil takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of herbs and plants and earth, with the new, heady smell of the honey in the hives. It should feel familiar, shouldn’t it? It should feel like coming home. and it does, but somehow it doesn’t stir any memories at all. Her mind reaches for them, expecting them to be there, as though it’s done so a hundred thousand times before. But all she comes up with is black emptiness.

She folds her legs underneath her without being aware of deciding to move, sits on the floor without looking away from the hives and watches the bees come and go. Terry and Phi sit beside her, quiet, letting her watch but staying with her all the same.

After a while, a bee flies over to her, lands on her knee and climbs across it, little antennae waving like it’s expecting to find nectar. It flies away after a moment, and she thinks it must have been disappointed to find only the fabric of her clothing instead. But a moment after that, two bees fly back to her, and before they’ve left, a third joins them.

Her eyes burn again, and tears fall down her cheeks, and she knows she must be broken, knows Security must have broken her, because how can she mourn for something she doesn’t even remember? How can she feel such grief and such joy, when she has no memory of ever seeing a bee before this day?

Occasionally, distantly, she’s aware of the others making their way through the rows of plants as well, the rustle of leaves and a far-off shout of excitement, quickly muffled. At some point, the plants shift and sigh closer by, and footsteps sound quietly on the floor, and there’s a low murmur of conversation exchanged with Terry and Phi, but nobody addresses her directly or indicates they need her attention, and so she doesn’t look away from her enraptured study of the bee crawling its way across her knuckles.

Later, there are louder steps, heavier, and the sharp huff of a breath, and then Ewhoza’s voice, too near, and edged with impatience as he says, “There you are. What— Oh. What’s she doing?”

“Leave her be,” Phi says placidly.

“We can’t stay. People will be along, and if they see you— if they see her—”

“No.” Quil wrenches her attention away because this, now, demands it. She turns to fix Ewhoza with an unyielding look. “I’m not leaving.”

He returns her look with an arch one of his own, asks, “Ever?” in sarcastic tones. “That’s a fine plan. Stars, why did I even risk my neck for you if you’re just going to throw it all away—“

She unbends, just a little, says, “Not yet.”

This time, the look he sends her is hard, calcified with frustration. “How long?”

She gestures uselessly. The bee keeps its place, and doesn’t fly away, despite her disturbance. “I don’t know.”

“You need to sleep. If you push yourself and end up back in the infirmary again—“

“I’ll sleep,” she promises.

He looks little assuaged. “You need to sleep soon.”

Phi shifts beside her and clears her throat, gets her feet beneath her and says to Ewhoza as she stands, “I’ll come back with the rest of you, get some blankets. We’ll keep her safe, until she’s ready to come back.”

Ewhoza’s mouth thins with disapproval. “If someone comes—”

“I’ll know,” Quil says. “Before they even set foot on upsilon level, I’ll know. We’ll leave.” Ewhoza looks skeptical at that, so she says, sharper, angrier, “I don’t wish to be caged again. I’m not a fool. If someone comes, we’ll go.”

He still seems unconvinced, but finally huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. “It’s your head,” he says at last. “But all of ours as well if something happens to you. Try not to forget about the rest of us, who’d very much like to keep on breathing.” He fixes her with a look, just before he turns away. “If you do get caught, don’t lead them back to the rest of us.”

The implication is so horrifying, so infuriating, that it steals her breath, and by the time she’s recovered it, Ewhoza is gone, and Phi along with him, and she’s shaking with rage.

“As though I would!” she gasps, but there’s only Terry there to hear her, and he just gives her a sidelong glance and a crooked smile.

“We all know you,” he says, reassuring, like that’s all that needs saying. And it settles her, so perhaps he’s not wrong, either.

The lights dim before Phi returns, an artificially diurnal cycle programmed somewhere deep in her memory stores, for the crops that need it in order to thrive, and the air cools around them so that by the time Phi does return, with a few blankets folded up and tucked beneath her arm, Quil’s glad for them as well as for her.

“Are you all right?” Phi asks her straightaway, and drapes a blanket around her shoulders without Quil having to ask for one.

Quil gives her a puzzled glance and grips the blanket’s edges close before her. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be, just from sitting here awhile?”

“Not from this.” Phi tips her head back towards the direction she arrived from. “From him.”

She means Ewhoza, Quil realizes. “Oh,” she says, and blows out a sharp breath and turns abruptly back to face the hives, though the activity there has died down, with the simulated evening. “Yes. Of course.”

Phi doesn’t react for a moment, like she’s waiting for something more. Then she laughs a little, softly, and shakes the other blanket out. “He wasn’t wrong about needing to sleep, at least. There’s not a lot of room, but we’ll make do. Just say, when you’re ready.”

She’s being overly generous. there’s hardly enough space between the hives and the hydroponics for the three of them to sit, much less for lying down and sleeping. But even with the bees bedding down for the night, she doesn’t want to leave them, can’t bring herself to, not yet.

“Make do how?” she asks, because they promised to keep her safe and she knows that even though they must be tired themselves, they won’t sleep until she does. Maybe not even then, but certainly not before.

Phi answers the question with a smile and nudges at Terry’s hip with the toe of her shoe. He gets to his feet and offers a hand to Quil, and so there’s nothing for her to do but take it, and let herself be pulled up as well.

Phi lays the other blanket out, and even folded in half to make it narrow, it barely fits. Terry sits first, and offers Quil his hand again, and she gives him a bemused frown but takes it once more, lets him draw her back down.

As he does so, he stretches out along the blanket, keeps drawing her down even once she’s sitting until she does the same, her pulse spiking too fast. Phi shakes the last blanket out over them both, then lies down as well, behind Terry with her arm stretched over him to lace with his where it’s curved around Quil’s arm.

Oh, Quil thinks, and her throat goes tight, but she doesn’t say a word.

Phi loosens her hand enough to brush the backs of her fingers over Quil’s shoulder. “All right?”

She nods wordlessly, trusts them to see it, or to feel it.

“Comfortable enough?”

She could laugh, but she just nods again. Every part of her is overly aware of them behind her, around her, and she thinks that this was pointless because she’s never going to be able to sleep, not like this, not with her heart in her throat and her pulse a drumbeat in her ears.

She’s wrong, though. She feels like it’s only moments, at most, before the gentle hum of the bees in their bed and the close warmth of Terry and Phi around her in their own lull her off, and the dimness of the space around them fades to the true black of sleep.

#answered asks #sovinly #fun fact: Valira works in the gardens #and finds them in the morning #also what the hell this prompt is so good #thank you darling!

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effortlessly-bored · 5 years

Text

The Bucket List - Michael Gray

"Have you ever done this before?"

"Bartending? Yes sir, worked at the pub in my old town for a year. This is a letter of recommendation from them," I say, handing over the tattered piece of paper.

"And if I call this number I will be able to talk to the owner of this real and respectable pub?"

"Of course, Mr Shelby. Well; real pub, yes; respectable, less so."

"Good. Do you drink yourself?"

"Yes sir, but not in excess and not on the job."

"What about drugs?"

"No sir. Not even for headaches."

He makes a grunt of acknowledgement. "I know that these are different questions that are fairly..."

"Odd?" I offer.

"Thorough." He corrects. "We've had some issues in the past with the reliability of our barmaids; so you'll have to excuse me. However, you should note that, with the other businesses I'm involved in, I need people I can trust in my life. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, absolutely sir. And I assure that, if awarded the job, I would be an exemplary employee."

"I believe you. What is it brought you to Birmingham, Emma?"

"School, Mr Shelby."

"The nursing school or the secretarial school?"

"Neither, Sir. The law school across town opened 5 spots for women this year and I was accepted."

"Really? You must be smart, eh? How would you feel about handling the Garrisons books as well; Harry is a great barkeep but not the greatest with numbers."

"I can absolutely take that on, Mr Shelby!" He chuckles slightly to himself. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, you just remind me of our old barmaid. Very similar. Anyways, the job is yours if you'd like it!"

"Yes! Thank you very much Mr Shelby, I promise you won't regret it." I exclaim reaching to shake his hand.

“Good. Well, I’ll walk you to the Garrison, give you the lay of the land.” It’s only when Mr. Shelby stood up, that Emma realized how intimidating he really was. Tall and lean, with eyes that looked through your soul, it made Emma nervous for a second before she realized how kind he had been thus far. Mr Shelby walk her through the Shelby Company Ltd offices, explaining how finances for the Garrison were handled by a man named Michael Gray. All receipts, books and paychecks were to be signed off by him at the end of the month.

Thomas explained that his company had many different types of business other than just pubs. The Shelby Company was a large and growing corporation according to him. Emma could see the pride in his eyes as well as the ambition.

Mr Shelby shrugged on his overcoat and helped Emma put hers on as they left his offices. A burst of wind surprised Emma as she opened the door to leave the building, making her realize how cold it was. Thomas chuckled a little before putting on his cap, razor blades stitched into the peak.

The streets of Birmingham were very different than her old town, dirtier and darker. It didn’t bother Emma, she was just happy she made it there. She was feeling self-conscious of her outfit though. She had worn her nicest dress for the interview and it was embarrassingly bright and fancy; light green stitching heavily contrasting the bleak surroundings. Her shoes were also decimated, covered with mud, coal, and other things she dared not think about. She made a mental note to save up for a new pair of shoes that could withstand all that Birmingham threw at them.

After turning a few corners, Emma saw a sign that read "The Garrison" above a fairly nice looking pub. Mr Shelby led her there through a street that sat next to some sort of factory. Emma couldn't help but think of her luscious home when she saw the men covered in soot and smoke. Thomas opened the door for her and Emma took a step inside her new office.

It was lovely and posh inside, much nicer than she expected. There was a private room to her right, but the rest of the bar was open with a place for dancing my and a band. Leather booths lined the walls except for one where the actual bar was. It was almost impossibly high, with a mirror behind the shelves of alcohol. It was all nice stuff too, nothing like the things they passed off for 'top shelf' at her old pub. There were a few men already in the bar despite it being midday. One man behind the counter and a few others who looked like dawn to dusk drunks. Like most things in Birmingham so far, The Garrison was intimidating.

Many of the men inside had straightened up a bit since they came in; sitting up straighter, talking quieter. The bartender had already poured Mr Shelby a glass of whisky and bowed his head slightly. Thomas put a shilling on the counter before explaining to Harry that Emma was the new barmaid.

Harry had kind eyes and calloused hands, quickly moving to shake Emma's. "Welcome to the team, I'm sure you'll do great!"

"Thank you, I'm just here to learn to ropes and work hard." She smiled back.

Tommy was satisfied with the number of pleasantries, going on to explain that Emma would help handle the books. "Alright, well, I think you two can figure it out from here. Emma, you can help Harry tonight; Saturday night rush and that. And you two can also figure out a schedule for the next month if you have time. Best of luck to both of you, I'll see you tonight." Then with a gulp of his whiskey and tip of his hat, Mr Shelby was gone.

"First lesson, oh young one, anyone with the last name Shelby drinks for free. Understand?" Emma nods vigorously. "Good. There are some aprons in the back, grab one then we can get started."

"Aye aye, sir." Emma salutes before rolling up her sleeves.

It was almost six o’clock on the dot when men started pouring into The Garrison. Harry explained that most men from the factory went home at five, cleaned up and ate with their families before spending the night drinking. Emma poured beer after beer, introduced herself as the “new barmaid” what felt like hundreds of times and it was barely half-past nine. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr Shelby and a few other men make their way into the private room and close the door.

“You best get in there and take their orders; remember the first rule?” Harry says.

“Shelby’s drink free.” Emma replies, walking out from behind the bar. She carefully avoided the drunk and dancing men as she made her way to the door.

Inside, Mr Shelby was sitting with four other men, three in the booth and one on a chair with his back facing Emma. The room smelled like tobacco with a thick cloud of cigarette smoke in the middle. All six were dressed impeccably in lavish, expensive suits.

“Emma! How’s your first night going?” Thomas asks.

“Good, sir, thank you for asking.”

"Glad to hear it. This is my older brother, Arthur,” Tommy points to a skinny man on his left with a large moustache who quickly nods. “My younger brother, John.” John is slightly larger than Arthur. He stands up to quickly shake Emma’s hand. “Our youngest sibling, Finn.” Finn has a bit of a boyish look to him, young and happier than his brothers. He’s obviously nervous at Emma's presence only waving quickly before ducking his head. "Last but not least, Isaiah." Tommy introduces.

"Another brother?" Emma jokes due to the obvious fact that none of the Shelby boys could be related to their Isaiah, who was black contrasting the Shelby's pale pigments. Emma joke earned her a chuckle from the men and a kiss on the hand from Isaiah, who she could already tell was a huge flirt.

“Don’t mind Isaiah, he’s a bit of a whore.” Arthur quips.

“It's no problem. So, four top-shelf Irish whiskeys coming up!" Emma says, trying to leave as soon as she could.

"Make it five," Isaiah says.

"Our cousin Michael will be joining us soon," John explains.

"Five whiskeys coming right up!" Emma spun around and was reaching for the handle when the door swung open and a large man bumped into her. She quickly mumbled a few apologies, as did the main, before looking up to see someone Emma believed would never return to her life.

It was Henry.

He was taller now, slightly more muscular, but his boyish looks had lasted the three years since they had last seen each other. His eyes were slightly more tired with larger bags under them. He had traded his tweed for a sleek, dark suit. Henry had a few cuts on his face, as well as some new scars. Despite the differences, Emma instantly knew that this man was Henry.

Henry knew it was Emma, even from the quickest of glances. It startled him, to see her again. She had the same perfume on that she had worn since he gave it to her for her sixteenth birthday. Her hair was longer and lighter than since the last time they’d seen each other. She looked exactly like he had expected her to, after all the times he’d thought of her.

“Henry!” Emma nearly shouted at the same time he said “Emma!” They both chuckled nervously at their outburst; both keenly aware of the prying eyes in the room.

“Henry? Do you two know each other?” Tommy quickly interjects.

It’s the first time they break eye contact for the first time since their encounter; Emma breaking it to reply to Mr Shelby. “Henry and I grew up together. It’s nice to see you,” She nods at him. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

Henry/Michael watches her leave, still confused as to what she was doing in Birmingham, in the Garrison of all places. Everyone else in the room were snickering at the dumbfounded look on his face. He hadn’t closed his mouth for two minutes. Eventually, Thomas broke the silence. “You two seem… close. Were you friends?”

“I was going to marry her,” Michael/Henry mumbled to himself, still dumbstruck.

Arthur lets out a low whistle as if to say, “Fuck, man.”

“So you and Emma were close I take it.” John chuckles. The boys continued ribbing Michael until the handle on the door started to turn.

Emma walked into the eerily quiet room, with a tray full of drinks. She hadn’t been able to slow her heart rate since she left the men before. Emma's hands were slightly shaky, making her tray with the drinks wobble a bit. Michael/Henry quickly steadied the tray, helping her put it on the table. Emma mumbles a quick thank you before handing out the whiskeys. The tray has one whiskey still on it and a dark beer.

"I, um, don't know what you drink now, so I just got you what you used to have, Henry." Emma gives a quick glance in his direction before handing him the glass. A few of the men chuckled quietly.

"I'm Michael!" Michael almost shouts, his mouth working before his brain. He quickly clears his throat before continuing. "I just mean, I go by Michael now. Michael Gray."

"Oh, well, that's a nice name. Here's your whiskey then." Emma doesn't know what to say next, there are too many questions and this was most definitely not the right audience for them.

"Have a seat, Emma!" John says, scooting over, making room for her to sit. "Tell us what Michael was like when he was young."

"You don't have to do that," Michael says quickly, sending a glare at John.

"Maybe later, I think I need to help Harry outside." It was the most diplomatic answer she could think of.

"Harry can handle himself," Thomas says, clearly amused, pushing the extra beer in her direction. "Take a break."

Knowing there was no way out, Emma sat down and took a large gulp of the beer. "What do you want to know?"

"Were you two close?" Arthur asks, curious as to what Emma's answer would be.

"Oh yeah, Henry and I were best friends since he came to town. Our mums were close and we were always in the same class at school." Emma didn't know if it was the beer or the fond memories but she couldn't help but smile. Michael was smiling too, he did miss the old town sometimes. Usually just her though.

"So you two were just friends?" Isaiah asked. Michael glared as if to say "Subtle".

"I mean I guessed we dated for a few years before he left. We never really called each 'boyfriend' or anything; it was just exactly what we did before but now we kissed while we did it." Emma said, staring at the ground. Usually, she wouldn't divulge this much to glorified strangers but she had snuck a few shots in when she went to get their drinks; and, along with the beer she was nursing, she felt her nervousness fade.

“And what kind of hell did you two raise in that tiny town, eh?”

Emma couldn’t help but snort; they had never been anything but angels in town. "Study, mostly. Henry helped out a lot at home so we'd study there; or if it was nice enough. Then, of course, there was a church on Sundays."

Emma and Michael shared the same fond look on their face, thinking about how good things were.

"Michael, teacher's pet! I never would have guessed!" John teases. "Top of your class, I'm sure."

All their heads turned when Michael spoke for the first time in what felt like forever. "I was second... in class. Emma was always at the top of the class; boys and girls." He had always been proud of how smart Em was. They looked at each other intensely, neither knowing what to say.

"You could have beaten me if you paid more attention, you never listened," Emma said, only looking at Henry. "All you'd do was pass me notes with cartoons on them."

Michael shrugged. "Ms Williams was a piss poor teacher and I knew you'd teach whatever we learned later."

There was a slight pause before Thomas cut in for the first time. "When I met Michael, he wouldn't stop talking about some well he was gonna blow up; he ever tell you about his plans?"

Michael looked slightly shocked that Tommy remembered that. Emma was shocked Henry had told someone else about his plan.

"Um, yeah. The night our exams ended, we got drunk in the field in town and Henry started making all these promises, even wrote down this life plan of his." Emma and Michael shared the same remorseful look. "Number one, graduate and go to business school together. Number two, blow up the 'stupid white well in the ungodly small town'. Number three, get married. Number four, get rich and live happily ever after." It took a lot of effort for her voice not to crack.

"What happened to the well?" Finn asked, failing to read the room.

"It's still their, mostly. I, uh, took my dad's hammer to it after my mom died."

"Your mom died?" Michael gasps genuinely shocked.

Emma nods before adding, "'Bout two months after you left and never came back."

"I'm so sorry, Em. I really loved Nellie, it's a damn shame."

"She loved you too, she was almost angrier than me after you left." There was a long, pregnant pause. Michael and Emma just stared at the ground while the boys looked for a way out of the uncomfortable situation. Michael had never been more ashamed.

It was Isaiah who finally broke the silence. "What about church? I've only heard Mick call out for god when he's with broad." It was a nice attempt at making the conversation light-hearted again; however, it only embarrassed Michael and shocked Emma.

She really didn't think about Henry dating anyone else, even though she had. He had always been so adamant about their future, saying she was the one.

Emma realized she had to answer after snapping back to reality. "Henry and I had to go but never wanted to; so, we made a game where we had to make the other laugh as loud as possible. Even got kicked out a few times."

"Sounds like you two were a wild pair." Isaiah jokes.

"Did you, uh, go with anyone after I left?"

Emma had stayed so incredibly calm throughout their conversation so far, but this finally made her lose it a bit. "Was I supposed to just wait and hope that maybe you'd come back?! Should I have just waited for the life you promised me, huh? God, Henry, of course I moved on."

"Who? Who'd you go with?" Michael knew he had no right to ask but he needed to know.

"Well, not that you have any fucking right to ask or that it's any of your fucking business but it was George Palmroy." Emma almost didn't tell him, but she knew how much Henry hated George and that it would make him angry. To be honest, that was the only reason she went on a few dates with George.

"George fucking Palmroy," Michael spat at her, his getting redder with anger. "You wasted your time with that fucker; are you insane?!"

"You know what Henry, I've only gone with two boys in my life and only one of those relationships was a fucking waste of time! I'll give you a guess as to which one that was."

It was a full-fledged fight now, both of them standing and shouting. Even when they dated, Michael and Emma didn't fight often; but, when they did, the fights would last days and make both their voices hoarse.

"Em, come on," Michael sighed in defeat, reaching for her arm. Emma violently jerked her arm out of his reach.

"I'm glad you don't call yourself Henry anymore, as far as I'm concerned you don't deserve that name. As soon as you decided that that name wasn't good enough for you, that I wasn’t good enough, you turned to shit. I hope it was worth the fancy suit." Emma quickly turned to the other men and said, "Just holler if you need another."

Emma scurried out quickly, leaving her beer behind and shutting the door. She could tell that most of the people in the bar were staring, having heard a lot of shouting between Henry and Emma through the walls. She carefully made it behind the bar without making eye contact with anyone. Harry gave her a kind look and told Emma to go work on the books in the back for a bit.

Meanwhile, back in the private room, Michael was absolutely dumbstruck about everything that had just happened. His cousins had each offered the rest of their own drinks after he downed his in one gulp. Michael was not one to be dumbfounded but Emma always had that effect on him, ever since they were kids. Mickey loosened his tie and downed a few of the offered whiskeys before Tommy spoke up.

"Do you want me to fire her?"

"What? No of course not! No, she needs this job, and at least when she's here I can make sure she's safe and taken care of; try and make it up to her."

"You're really gonna try to get her back?" Arthur questions, condescendingly.

"I should have never left her in the first place." Michael sat back in his chair brainstorming while Tommy excused himself and left the private room.

When he didn't see her behind the bar Tommy knew Emma would be in the office. Before opening the door, Thomas listened, trying to figure out if Emma was crying in the office. When he didn't hear sobbing Tommy decided it was safe to open the door.

Emma was sitting in the old wooden chair with a very similar look as, both shocked. Emma had a slightly more angry look, eyebrows slightly creased and a small frown. There were two tear stains down her cheeks, which she quickly wiped away when she saw her boss.

"Mr Shelby, I'm so sorry about that! I promise that will never happen again-"

"I'm gonna tell you a story about Michael. About two weeks after he first moved here, Michael showed up at my home, piss drunk and weeping about some girl. Cried to me about how he should never have left her; how she was the love of his life. No matter how many times I asked him, he wouldn't tell me her name. You see, sometimes the business we do can get, well, dangerous; and he didn't want this girl involved. So, when he woke up the next day we made a sort of plan as to how he could be with this girl again. He was going to make enough money and then leave the family business and find her. About two months later, someone shot my wife right in front of my whole family. And I couldn't do anything to save. Grace died because of the business, and I'll always blame myself for her death." Tommy could only look at the ground. "Anyways, Michael was there when it all happened and I think after that he figured out that the only way you'd really be safe is if you stayed away from it."

"He could have written or something," Emma said pathetically. She could already feel herself forgiving him, despite the years she'd been upset.

"All I'm saying is that I truly believe he never stopped loving you. That list you talked about? He keeps it in his desk, in the only drawer that locks. I’ve walked in on him staring at it at least a dozen times. And I don't think you'd be that upset at him if you were truly indifferent." With that, Tommy went back to the private room, leaving Emma to consider everything.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray #Michael Shelby #michael gray imagine

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

Text

Beauty & The Dragon

Beauty & The Beast except it’s Katara and Azula.

“If she could learn to love another and earn her love in return, by the time the last petal fell, then, the spell will be broken.”

Katara’s fingers comb through her hair, an unkempt tangle of coarse, shaggy black. Her eyes are so deep and tantalizingly blue. Wide, pure, and innocent. Her hair is coarse too, but not unpleasantly so, like Azula’s own--probably because the texture is natural on her. She has a kind smile. It is more than Azula thinks she deserves. Katara smiles and presses her head against Azula’s and her hand curls around Azula’s own. Azula feels jittery.

She doesn’t know how Katara can stand the sight of her. She is barely even human anymore, having only the faintest resemblance. The curse has stolen from her, her charm and allure and it is hard for her to fathom how she’d managed to win the girl over. She hasn’t been exactly pleasant company.

Azula holds the waterbender tightly, she hasn’t had companionship nor love in ages and, for as nervous as it makes her feel, she welcomes it. She takes a breath and drinks in the feeling of such close human contact.

Katara’s skin, elegantly dark in complexion, is rather cool; colder than what she is used to, being confined to a temple cut of the side of a volcano. But it is a kind and pleasant cool. It is so soft, unlike her own skin. In comparison to her, Katara seems so small.

She smells nice too; like lavender.

Lavender…

Flowers…

A withering firelily on its last petal.

Azula turns her head and gazes at the sorry thing. She has moved it from her secret chamber to the entry room table--hopefully one of the few that doesn’t have a human soul locked within. The dying flower is a stark reminder of what she will lose. What her team of serving girls will lose because of her.

Suddenly anxious and mournful, she looks back at Katara. Despite their rocky and stressful start, the girl has become a means of consolation and soothing.

.oOo.

Katara rests the backs of her fingers against the princess’ cheek. Her body and face are a mural of deep blue and grey scales, rough to the touch. Her eyes, more akin to a dragon’s than a human’s, seem downcast and hopeless.

Azula offers her a half smile, one that is adorned with sharp and jagged teeth that are just as pointy as the curling horns on her head and claws on her hands. She is a tall girl with a bulkier build.

If Katara were being honest she has to say that she is quite terrifying to behold. But underneath it all she is a rather sweet girl, and highly intelligent. She has a range of talents that begin with firebending and end with things like painting and chess. And for as rough and uninviting as she appears her voice is soft and smooth. Yet she refuses to try to sing, even if Katara is doing it too.

Katara doesn’t speak. Instead, she offers Azula a light kiss; the first one she has ever given her. Azula seems to go tense and Katara wonders if she should draw back. But Azula brings one of her clawed hands to Katara’s chin and tilts it up to return the kiss.

Her legs seem to buckle and Katara has to fight to hold them both upright. She is rater certain that Azula is shaking some.

Katara peers at the firelily and her heart sinks for the girl in her arms. The last petal has fallen.

Katara does her best to make the former princess comfortable on the nearest sofa. She is barely awake, her eyes only open a crack before they shut completely. Katara approaches the firelily with hopes to heal it.

Her mouth falls agape; she has never seen anything so beautiful. Like a phoenix, born again, the firelily bursts into vivid flames. Its petals seem to blossom larger and more radiant than before.

She turns back to the slumbering firebender, a halo of soft, golden light surrounds her sleeping form. She looks to be at peace.

The light seems to envelop her entirely and Katara has to shield her eyes with her hand until the light dims, leaving a warmth in its wake. Azula still sleeps, undisturbed and unaware of the light. The flames of the firelily have cooled to ashy petals with orange speckles like dying embers. The light around Azula disappears completely.

With the curse lifted, Azula is much smaller. Smaller than Katara had anticipated. Her skin is pale and much more inviting to the touch. Her hair is long and satiny and falls into a serene and soft looking face. Overall the princess has a more delicate appearance than Katara would have guessed. She’s absolutely stunning.

She stirs some but doesn’t wake, not until Katara sits and that portion of the couch dips.Then she murmurs something. It sounds much more befitting coming from Azula now than it had when she was more serpent-like.

Azula props herself up and eyes Katara, looking as though she could use a shot of coffee or sugar.

“Have a nice nap?” Katara asked.

There is a twinkle of confusion in her eyes.

“You kind of just fell over.” Katara clarifies.

.oOo.

“Oh.” Azula replies simply. That would explain why she feels faint and distant. She wonders if it is the impact of the curse settling. She steals a look at the firelily. It looks grey and dead, with only traces of a glow. Yet, it has a full crown of petals.

Her stare finds Katara who flashes her what she assumes is a reassuring grin. She reaches for Katara’s hand to find that her own is free of scales and claws. Mostly anyhow; her nails are long and filed to sleek points, she supposes that some would call those claws. She pulls her hand away from Katara’s and flexed in front of her face, as though testing that it truly belongs to her.

“It’s broken.” Katara informs. “The curse.”

“Completely?” She asks.

Katara nods.

“What do I look like?” It has been so long since she’d shattered the mirrors in the temple.

“Hmm.” She pauses and tucks a strand of Azula’s hair behind her ear. “You have really silky black hair and bright gold eyes.” Her hand cups Azula’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “And your skin is soft and warm, really warm…” She trails off.

“Do you like it?”

Katara laughs a little, “very much.” She looks up with a thoughtful hum. “Give me a second.” She springs off of the couch and leaves Azula to herself.

She holds her hands in her lap, trying to get used to the feeling of skin instead of scales. She lets her hair tumble into her face; Katara is right it is long and well-maintained. Katara drops back on to the sofa and hands something to her.

Azula takes the small handheld mirror. On its surface she see the two of them. Not quite ready to see her own face, her gaze lingers on Katara. Her beautiful Katara with her big blue eyes and generous lips.

“What do you think?”

“Breathtaking.” It takes a moment for it to register that Katara is asking Azula for her opinion of herself.

“Glad you agree.” Katara laughs again. She has a sweet, charming laugh. And hearing her compliment lifts her spirits and soothes her bruised ego some, she chances a smile.

.oOo.

It is nice to see Azula smile, and nicer still to see it without the menacing sharp teeth. The firebender hadn’t smiled in such a long time. Not since the firelily had been reduced to a single unstable petal. But the expression is back and it brings a brightness to her face.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Katara asks. “It has been a while since you’ve left the temple.”

Azula nods. She looks about the temple. “I should probably buy some new furniture since mine is human again.”

Katara gives the room a once over, “it does look a little empty now.” She feels a pang of guilt for having completely ignored all of the other people who had been in the room. “Where did they go anyways?”

“Probably outside.” Azula shrugs. “Talking furniture isn’t exactly something that the outside world is used to.”

“True.” Katara agrees

The princess rises and extends her arm. Katara takes her hand and lets her pull her to her feet. She has to laugh again because she is much taller than Azula now. It is strange to have to peer down at her instead of up.

“It’s not funny.” Azula grumbles, folding her arms over her chest.

“It kind of is.” Katara replies. She takes Azula’s hand and leads her to the door. The princess pushes it open and sunlight falls upon her face. She closes her eyes and looks towards the sky. She looks cheerful. Cheerful and wholly untroubled at last.

#Avatar #Azula #Katara #Azutara #Fanfiction #One Shot

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griffinsandpeacocks · 4 years

Text

The Loony Two Challenge

Week One Prompt

Hades fumed as he stormed away to his bedroom or at least what passed as a bedroom in his mine shaft abode. He was getting aggravated again without his powers he felt defenseless and that had always bothered him. He lays down staring up at the dingy rock and it calms him a bit a familiar setting the only thing missing his best friend and Queen Persephone. He sighs and wonders how angry she is at him for leaving all the work to her. Oh well, not his problem. He isn't sure when he fell asleep he is painfully aware of the instant he wakes up. He doesn't open his eyes at first trying to reason why someone was wrapped around him. They're too heavy to be Maleficent and she doesn't cuddle. He opens his eyes and looks straight at the sleeping face of none other than The Royal Pain In His Ass, The King of Auradon himself; Adam.

"The fuck...?" He mutters before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath and slowly counting to ten. As he lets it out he opens his eyes. Nope, the too pretty gorgeous brat Adam was still there.

"Well then..." Hades says more to himself as he turns his head to the ceiling and wonders what in Tartarus was happening. Was this a sick punishment? Had the lack of his powers killed him and his father was getting a sick glee from watching him fumble through his panic?

"Good morning, lovely." Adam grumbles voice rough with sleep and Hades goes ridged. Lovely? What? Not a single person immortal or not had ever called him lovely. Not even his Queen. She called him her friend but that was it. He can't do this he jerks away and moves out of the bedroom area hearing Adam call after him sounding worried and Hades runs at that point he can't do this. He can't handle having something that he has longed for just dangled in front of him in a sick joke.

"Hades darling, you look a bit frazzled, are you alright?" That was Maleficent's voice... Hades stops to look and it finally registers he is in a castle. He is not in the mine on the isle. He sees her walking up wings and horns on display glittering in a way that makes her seem sleek and dangerous and it is definitely a suiting look on her but... How? He sees a small child next to her who rushes up small horns and wings on her as well, her purple hair swishing as she stops and looks up at him wide green eyes wide with worry.

"You ok, Daddy?" She asks and Hades feels something flutter in his chest dangerously close to where is heart should be. He feels dizzy and feels sparks at his fingertips getting a chill down his spine at the distantly familiar sensation. He feels hands on his shoulders and snarls twisting slightly and his hand lighting up in blue fire making him pause. He hasn't been able to summon a single spark in so long the fire distracts him from lighting up whoever touched him.

"Hades, love, you must still be stressed from Zeus' visit why don't you go lay down for a bit longer?" Adam says gently and Hades lets the fire burn out. Zeus’ visit? Since when did the pretentious Thunder Dick himself visit Hades willingly? Why was Adam calling him love? Why was this purple haired little girl calling him daddy? He lets Adam lead him back him tossing over his shoulder that Hades had been shaken since the visit. Back in their room Hades changes into a dark blue pair of slacks and a lose light blue shirt and black boots.

“This can’t be real.” Hades states blinking at Adam in confusion who looks at him concerned. He stops and turns to him and cups his face, Hades paused not certain what was happening but trying to at least catch up to whatever it was when lips gently press to his he goes ridged and Adam pulls back thumbs swiping over his cheek bones.

“You are worth every bit of attention we give you. You are an amazing partner and father to our daughter and son. Mal and Ben both adore you. We all do; your are a devoted soul Hades. You are worthy of love you stubborn blind bastard.” Adam says adamant and stern and Hades blinks at him in shock wondering again just what in Tartarus was going on. He’d been kissed by an... Arguably handsome man. Who thought he being a father was in any way shape or form a good idea? He swallows deciding he may as well play along with this madness. He leans in and rests his head against Adam’s shoulder reassured he made the right move when strong arms wrap around him. This is what it felt like for other’s to care?

“So... As I’m a bit stressed what shall we do?” Hades falls into familiar habits quickly deciding to flirt when he has no other idea what to do. Adam chuckles and shakes his head grinning fondly he lightly bumps his chin to the blue head.

“Well, given Mal had asked to spend the day with you why don’t we start there? Ben can keep you both company, I’m sure you three could get up to great mischief. He’s waiting down in the garden with Belle.” Adam jokes and Hades swallows nervous. Why would they leave kids with him? Who in their right mind though child care and The God of the Underworld were meant to be even remotely be near each other in the same sentence?

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea...” Hades says softy feeling like his throat’s gone dry. Adam looks at him worriedly.

“Maybe the visit did worse for you than I thought...” Adam says looking worried and Hades feels an odd twist in his gut. There was the concern again. A soft knock and Adam opens the door for a concerned looking Maleficent and Mal. Hades looks away until a little hand tugs his and he looks down to a wide eyed child with bright green eyes.

“Are you going to be alright, Daddy?” She asks and Hades isn’t sure what to do instead he stoops down and scoops her up and smiles at her.

“Daddy’s alright, just tired was all I’m out of practice with how exhausting Zeus is.” Hades says grinning covering his worries with a smile and her small but bright grin is worth it. He smirks at her giggles and accidentally steps back taking them through shadows to a garden blinking as he hasn’t used that skill in so long he’s shocked he managed at all. Mal giggles and looks around delighted by the magic and Hades smiles. A little boy dashes away from a woman in a beautiful yellow summer dress and Hades recognizes her immediately as Belle. She smiles at him lowering a book as the boy hugs Hades leg Hades is looking down in shock at the boy who looks up at him wide blues focused but openly concerned.

“Are you feeling better Papa?” He asks and Hades feels a lump in his throat.

“Why would I be anything less than alright? My brother has nothing on this!” Hades teases spinning the two with him as he lifts the leg Ben is holding and twirls on his other foot with the help of some magic the two are shrieking happily as he dances them about and Belle watches smiling fondly not even a least bit concerned. Hades isn’t sure why or how any of this is happening but he can’t suppress the sense of happiness suffusing his soul.

“Alright you three, breakfast is here, come sit and eat.” Belle calls and Hades is skipping away from the two as they chase after him Mal popping in and out of sight in small puffs of soft purple smoke. He gets tackled by Ben allowing himself to get pinned. He’s laughing as the two kids laugh at their victory and he paused sitting up and looking over he looks at the two.

“Time to eat; you heard her.” Hades says cocking his head Belle’s way. The two pout but go off to eat Hades lays in the sun staring up at the blue sky. Belle’s face comes into his view and he focuses on her blinking as his eyes adjust to the change in light.

“You heard me. Come eat.” She teases and he grins at her still not certain about this strange reality he found himself in. It was... Peaceful. He’d give it that. Strange but nice. Incredibly nice.

"I will." Hades says softly in reply a bit shaken by how much concern everyone was showing him of all people. He was used to people reviling him. Yet here he was with a daughter and son... Though he can't deny Mal was his Ben was most definitely Adam and Belle's. Could he actually be this happy it has to be a dream, right?

"Still stressed from his visit? You know he was lying through his teeth? He wanted to rattle you. We all love you Hades. You helped me make sure my best friend stayed happy, and have helped raise Ben with us which I thank you for who knew being a parent was this messy? But you are my friend, you are a wonderful father and Adam loves you more than anyone else in the world. Well... Except Mal and Ben. They're special." She jokes and he laughs and nods tears starting to build. Whatever Zeus did must have hit hard. Belle was too kind. She always had been from what he recalled. He sighs and sits up and looks at her smiling. This reality or dream or whatever it was... It was so much better than what he’d known. He had people who cared in this fever dream.

“Alright, alright...” He stands with her and walks by her shocked she takes his arm though he allows it not accustomed to the habit after years of being bored or angry or listless and cold. He was warm here and happy he had two kids that weren’t afraid to walk up and play with him. He hadn’t had that ever, except with Ares, but Hera had always watched.. Then again Ares had been hers, and Ares had been her favorite from the start.

“He lied Hades. We all adore you. Son of a titan or not, you are not your father.” Hades froze and Belle looked at hi concern on her face as Hades tries to come to terms that a human just said that to him... A human had more understanding of his pain than any of his supposed family back in Olympus... A human could find the source of his pain and pull it plainly into view. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He opens his eyes and looks to Belle and smiles at her.

“Who could resist me?” He says hiding and she smiles right back and rolls her eyes. She sits him next to her and they eat like a normal happy family. He then has the two follow him until he has them lead him about under the game of it being his first visit and so Mal is his little princess and Ben is the noble king giving a grand tour. Hades can’t help the fascination when they explore the family wing. Seeing things of his scattered about he smiles stopping to let his hand ghost over an old mural, it’s of him and Persephone on their wedding both look regal in the dark blues and blacks though hers were lined in white and grey he misses her terribly and wonders if she misses him.

“Will auntie Perse be visiting anytime soon? I miss her.” Mal says and Hades feels his heart skip, so at least in this reality she missed him and would visit.

“I’m not sure... She must be busy little pomegranate.” Hades says petting Mal’s hair surprised how soft it is but content to pet it none the less. Ben is grinning as he bounces a bit.

“It’s lunch... Are we going to eat in the dinning hall?” Ben asks and Hades nods and gestures the kids ahead and saunters after them looking over old armor he had once worn and even several weapons hung on the wall. He froze as sitting on a pedestal is his crown, it’s damaged a bit but it’s obviously been well cared for since... Since he had fallen from grace within Olympus. He would admit he had stepped several bounds with Hercules. He’d admit it, but... He had the rights to Meg. She made a deal and it had backfired, cruel as it was he wasn’t a fate he had no idea. He had never wanted to kill the hero though the outcome wouldn’t have phased him. He was just... Angry he looks to where purple hair is swaying and his chest tightens and he backs up and turns away.

“I can’t do this...” Hades wheezes and he uses the shadows to step out of the hall filled with bitter memories and out into the sun staring up at it feeling dizzy. His thoughts swirl Hercules if he had died would have hurt the mortals that had fostered him like their own. He couldn’t imagine anything happening to the small child that he could feel was in fact his. Mal gave off a similar aura to his. He hears a peacock and gets uneasy he looks around feeling uncomfortable he goes into the gardens to hide.

“Running away like always?” Zeus snarks. Hades goes tense having been standing in a small alcove where a fountain was it had a three headed dog standing in the center heads down as if lapping up water water pouring from the Cerberus’ three jaws. The detail was impeccable almost as if he’d frozen the great guardian beast himself. He still should have struck down that brat for hurting his lovely puppy.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Hades says softly more a sigh of words really and Hades really doesn’t. Zeus was a complete screw ball who couldn’t be a proper god and king even if the definition of both were to bite him in the ass. His beautiful wife a mere trophy on his arm as he went after whatever human struck his fancy no wonder Hera had a vindictive streak miles wide.

“Well I want to talk to you.” Zeus states and Hades looks away from the water to glare Zeus down.

“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit Zeus. Go away. We’re not in Olympus I’m not expected to play nice with you.” Hades is getting angry and Zeus knows and Hades knows he’ll just keep going to get a rise and it’ll work or Hades could just ignore him...

“Play nice? When have you ever played nice?” Zeus taunts and Hades looks at him and starts laughing at how stupid the King of Gods was.

“PLAY NICE IS WHAT I DID FOR MILLENNIA UNCOUNTED WHILE THE REST OF YOU KICKED HELPLESS INNOCENT PUPPIES! PLAY NICE IS WHAT I DID WHILE YOU TREATED HERA LIKE SECOND RATE TRASH AND SLEPT WITH EVERY OTHER HOLE YOU DEEMED FANCY! PLAY NICE WAS WHAT I DID WHEN I COULD HAVE KILLED YOUR DARLING BASTARD BRAT! I let Hercules walk out with a soul he had no right to. I even made a deal to give him the right. I could have immediately summoned Megra back to the underworld, I still can instead I allow her to live. I can change that. I could hurt your son, yet I chose not to. You on the other hand, constantly torment me with how much alike to Kronos I am. I’m done with you begone, there is no need of you to be here.” Hades had been shouting but reminding himself why he’d run out here he softened his voice and cooled his temper. He had not raised a hand to kill the brat. He had done no actual wrongs. That’s an odd feeling to suddenly realize that in reality he had done much less wrong than he’d felt he had.

“You tampered with my son! Hera didn’t deserve-” Hades whips around rage lighting him up in flame.

“HERA DIDN’T DESERVE TO BE LIED TO ABOUT SOME HALF RATE DEMIGOD! HE ISN’T HERS AND HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN FORCED TO EARN A PLACE IN OLYMPUS I DID US A FAVOR BY MAKING THAT BRAT PROVE HE WAS A HERO! Don’t you dare tell me any differently. That king murdered his Queen for cheating on him because of you a brilliant light was extinguished. You throw fits of rage fit for a child yet I’m the bad guy. You cheat on your spouse who is so blindingly loyal it’s sickening to watch how you treat her. Yet, again, I’m the evil over lord of the dead. Fun fact asshole I’m a glorified manager. I’m not god of Death that’s Thanatos! I just take a soul wipe the memories and through that soul back into the world. You exhausting man child! First I’m reviled then I ‘steal’ Demeter’s daughter when you dropped her off and said fuck you both your married now, I of course get blamed by Persephone’s mother who is a complete sociopath so thanks for that, also fun fact Perse is at least an amazing friend so I guess I am thankful to you for one thing, JUST ONE! That’s it! You see when I played matchmaker it was to take a soul of a woman in exchange for you lover only to have that blow up in my face when Hercules decided she was his. Persephone is a darling but she chose to stay with me on her own not with your help; her own insanely genius brain came to the conclusion that she could eat the fruit of the dead and thus tie herself to my kingdom after all you idiot from death comes rebirth, things must die to form foundations for the next generation. Death isn’t bad and everyone seems to understand that yet me, the one who tends the dead is somehow a bad guy? Know what... I’m done. Go away this isn’t worth it. I’ve done little in comparison to you. I haven’t spread seed about making little half god brats at least once a decade. If you’re such a good guy then stop harassing me go back to your wife and leave you’re darling older brother alone.” Hades sneers now purely disgusted he storms away anger clear on his face and he turns when Zeus tries to follow possibly to continue the argument, but Hades cuts him off fire licking over his form and glowing blue scorching the area around him he snarls at the other god as his hands wrap around his throat.

“I SAID I’M DONE!” Hades shouts using his powers to throw Zeus far far away the shadows sucking the other down and throwing him somewhere far away. He is shaking and grinding his teeth and feels sick all at once it’s dizzying and he hears a gasp and looks glaring at first but it’s Belle and the kids and they look scared. He feels cold suddenly and the flames burn out in wisps of blue smoke as he feels his stomach churn.

“Sorry you saw me like that...” Hades croaks his throat feeling dry and he is wondering how loud he had been. Adam walks up surveying the blackened patch of what had been grass at one point and looks at Hades not a hint of fear in his face. He walks up and holds Hades face.

“Take a deep breath love. We’re here for you. Kids, you okay?” Adam asks and Mal walks you looking at Hades clearly worried.

“What he do?” She asks and Hades pursed his lips thinking desperately for a way to explain it.

“He said some things I strongly disagreed with. Some very hurtful things.” Hades says to put it mildly and in a child friendly way. She holds out her arms and he picks her up hugging her tightly and stroking her hair as he tries not to show how much he’s affected. Belle picks Ben up and brings him over and Ben Holds out his arms so Hades moves Mal a bit and holds Ben feeling calmer as Adam leads them back inside to eat lunch.

They eat and Hades decides to focus on the matters before him like Belle joking with Maleficent and the kids childishly ribbing each other playfully as Adam strokes his thigh under the table. Hades wants to peruse a real distraction but resigns himself to more parenting when Adam and Maleficent walk off to discuss more regarding some tricky fae causing trouble. Hades leads the kids in several lighthearted pranks on the staff and even a few on Belle that lead to the three cackling as they run from the brunette. As the day winds down with Hades and Belle telling some elaborate fairy tail to the kids after dinner Hades almost wishes this would never end... Whatever this was... It was the best day he had ever had. He kisses Ben and Mal on the fore head goodnight as he tucks her in and Belle does the same to Ben. The two in a room they’d share whenever they were both at the castle.

He goes to bed giving the sheepish excuse to Belle that the day had worn him out, she smiled at him full of gentle care and understanding as she goes to her own room or perhaps the library for some late reading. Adam joins him in the room not long after and lightly hits on him as he changes into pajamas. Hades is in a pair of sleep pants that are decorated with flaming skulls in white as he lounged waiting for Adam in bed.

“Will you come keep me warm?” Hades teased and Adam looks at him grinning.

“I will, but nothing too heated, you had a long day and I’d rather you be in a better head space for it.” Adam says and Hades nods curling up on the man when he lays down he wraps himself around the former Beast and smiles as arms encircle him. Drifting off was all too simple and Hades is still smiling when he does feeling lips brush his forehead before he drops off fully into sleep.

He feels colder than he should when he starts waking up given he should have a hunk next to him. He opens his eyes to see Maleficent with her chin on her hand grinning at him and he jerks backwards.

“Tartarus!” He shouts as he rolls back and falls off the bed flailing as he get tangled in rags he used as bedding she’s cackling in hysterics as he grumbles.

“I wanna go back..” Hades mumbles into the sheets under him as he realizes he’s back in his mine.

#decendants fanfiction #Mixing lore and cannon #loonytwowritingchallenge #Live action actors for Beast and Maleficent #LORE HADES IS ADORABLE #hades/beast #Child Mal and Ben #writing challenge #writing prompt #week1 #decendants hades #emma as belle #littlemadhouse

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dimensionwriter · 5 years

Text

Deadliest Friend

Gender Neutral Monster x Genderless Reader

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I don't know why I've been struggling to write lately. I would start something and struggle to finish it. So, I apologize of this doesn't reach the standard. I just wanted to try to write SOMETHING to try to break this writer block. So, enjoy.

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You're use to a lot of things happening in your life. But sometimes, something just wear you out completly. A great example will be this week you just had.

It started off Sunday with you simply going down to the bakery to get something nice to eat on a lovely afternoon. When this old woman decided to crossed the road without looking both ways. And guess what happen to be speeding down the road? A tiny kitten, nah. More like a 18 wheeler carrying stacks and stacks of logs. In a moment of blind panic, you ran within an inch of you life and shoved the woman out of the way. The two of you crashed down on the side walk as the 18 wheeler sped past.

Even in your dazed state, you felt proud that you saved someone life. But that feeling quickly vanished when she started beating you with her cane while screaming at you to get off her. She then proceeded to walk away while grumbling how she's lived through more wars that you could count and how she was perfectly able to help herself. Not a single thank you came out of her mouth.

Then Monday came and your phone somehow died in the middle of the night, while still being plugged in. Meaning, not a single lovely melody drifted from your phone to wake you from your peaceful slumber. So when you woke up with the sun blazing through your window, you knew you messed up.

You proceed to do the entire olympic course within your house as you got ready for work, not even grabbing breakfast or lunch. You barely had a shoe on when you exited your house, it wasn't the time to think about food. But two hours in your job made you wonder if it would be okay to eat your shoe from how hard your stomach was trying to digest itself.

Tuesday was pretty decent, well, except for your closet's railing deciding to snap in the middle of the night waking you up into a fearful frantic state. You couldn't call in becuase it was late at night, so that was something future you was going to have to worry about.

Wednesday was the defintion of hell on earth. Your phone had died completely, not just the battery. Your phone didn't respond to any thing, only showing a cracked black glossy screen that reflected how much of a mess you were. So you had to drive to your cellphone company to get a new one. And then call up your residence manager to send someone over to fix the poles in your closet. You tried not to think about your piles of clothes laying everywhere on the ground.

Thursday was a little better with only all you electricity in your house being cut off. There was a storm that apparently happen during the night that knocked out all of the electricity in only one house, yours. You had to navigate your house with a flashlight and the sight of a blind person.

And all that leads up to today, Friday. You had the day off since the repair people should be coming over to fix the railing later in the afternoon. And your lights should be back on by night time, hopefully if nothing else goes wrong.

With rough sandy texture under your fingers, you slowly flipped through novel, soaking up each word. Your house was lit up from the multiple of candles you have recieved as gift during the holiday from coworker who barely knew you. But as a bonus, your house smell absolutely divine.

"….." You stopped reading to look up around at the living room you were in. It sounded like something was mumbling to you. "…turn.."

You felt chills go down your back as you were able to make out a single word out of the mumbling around you. "Turn?" You asked into the open air with a small hope that nothing would respond back to you.

"The page," it whispered in your ear. You spun your head around to see nothing but shadows. You thought it was the shadows from the candle light, but some of it remain unmoved.

"Who are you?" You asked slamming the book shut, just in case you would have to run as fast as you could out of your door. This week just had to get worse, didn't it.

"I am the beginning of the end. I am the face you see in your last breath. I am-" you cut whatever it was about to continue rambling about by holding your hand up. The shadows around the flames seem to stopped moving allowing you to get a shape out of the thing.

It was a tall broaded creature that was really blending itself into the shadow, almost like it was feeding off of them.

"I asked who you are. Not your backstory," you grumbled scooting to the edge of your sofa. Your feet touched the cool carpet. Trying to easy away the panic, you slowly ran your toes through the strands of carpet.

"Oh, well," they mumbled their voice sounding odd. It was like it was unusually high and extremely low, forming this grey inbetween. "I'm Death."

"Death?" You asked raising your eyebrow to look at them. You imagine death to be a lot more different than what is infront of you. Well, from what you can see.

"Show me yourself then Death," you taunted not believing them. It was probably just the kid next door trying to prank you. From the zombie fiasco, you wouldn't be surprise if he did this.

"Wait, you want see me?" They said in shock causing your smirk to rise up. They didn't expect that now did they. It was probably them that were cutting off the light.

"Yes, I want to see what Death looks like in the flesh," you said not even trying to cover up your heavy sarcastic tone.

"If you insist. But please reframe from screaming, for you humans are fragile and.. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Your eyebrows dropped down at the tone of that sentence. The word chocies was odd and their voice dropped down to a thick grumble at the end almost making it impossible to understand them.

You didnt have long to question the meaning of their sentence when all the candles started burning higher and brighter. You jumped up in shock as the candle infront of you became a roaring fire.

The entire room lit up making you squint your eyes at the new light source. You turned your head around to see all the candles were like that

"What the.." You sentence was cut off as you turned to where your neighbor's child should have been, but something entirely different was there.

The creature was something past anything your imagination could come up with. They seem to be towering above you, even though they were only barely touching your roof.

The body looked wrong. There looked to be a midnight black torso covered with dark silver veins twirling around like intricate designs. But there was a set of ribs bone ontop of the skin that were a blood red.

The legs were similar to what you imagine for a dragon with glimmering black scales. They turned into sharp talons that seemed to be digging deep into your carpet.

Your eyes slowly drifted upwards again at the bone covered toroso to see the arms. They too big to be proportional with his body and seem to dangle at his side, brushing the back sides of his calves. His fingers went from the black flesh colour to talon like sharp nails that looked like they could pull your heart out just by simply poking you.

They had long flowing black hair that reached farther than their arms. The hair seem to form a cloak around them with something white peaking through at the top.

You were a curious creature. And maybe just a little bit stupid. You lean over to the creature and pushed the hair back.

Instead of a human face, there seem to be a mask ontop. The mask was of antelope skull with its horns painting to a dark red, same as the ribs on their torso.

"So, you're death," you said looking at the eye holes of the skull. If you stared hard enough, you can see something moving behind the skull.

"I am death," they stated leaning forward a little. The skull pressed gently into your finger making you realize that the skull was too cool to be made of bones. It was probably crystals or somrthing.

"I imagine you to be different," you said looking down at the body again. Their form was sleek but still had some muscles in it.

"Humans have a limited imagination. It quite funny seeing your version of me. The only noticable thing being a black cloak and a scythe," they said and a small thing of laughter came out of them, shaking their frame.

"So death, why are you in my home? And if you say for me, I am booking it out of here," you said pushing the hair back trying to see any emotions present on their face, well mask you guess.

"No of course not. I couldn't bear taking such a thing from this horrific world," they said lifting their arm up. You glanced down to see their arm laying on the arm rest.

"They why are you here?" You asked dropping your eyebrows in suspicious. They seem to freeze at the question. You felt something brush past your knee and looked down to see that their talons were pushing into your couch.

"Oh, why am I here?" They mumbled looking down causing their hair to fall out of your hand. "I'm here because… well... you see."

You noticed that their mask was turning from a white to a light pink. Is the make part of their face? Wait, that means death is blushing right now.

"Calm down. You acting like I'm accusing you of being the reason all this stuff happen," you joked trying to calm them down. But their mask turned a bright red as they brough their head down in shame.

"Wait, are you serious? How did you manage to kill my phone? I got in trouble with my boss for being late," you yelled getting angry. You lean over the arm rest to get closer to death. You don't know the consequences of fighting death, but you are about to find out.

Their arms shot out to hold you in place causing their hair to swing back. Allowing you to see their mask was now pure red, matching the horns. But you noticed that there was now a pair of golden spheres in the eye socket. They were shaking slightly, as if working as their eyes.

"I didn't mean to. I was trying to walk past it, but the talon accidently touched it and it died. And I sincerely apologize for your closet. I-I slide in there to hide in there when you kept moving in your sleep and my shoulder put too much pressure on it," they rambled quickly with their voice jumping on random octaves. You blinked as you processed the information.

You let out a gasp and jumped out of their reach. You stood ontop of you couch as you looked at them with fear. "Where you watching me while I was asleep?"

"No!" They squeaked backing away. Their arms shot up to cover their face, clearly embarrassed. But it was obvious they were lying to you.

"You were. I don't care if you're human or not, but that's weird. How would you feel I were to watch you sleep," you yelled jumping on the couch.

"That would be kind of nice." They grumbled something but you couldn't understand them. "I mean, I know it was wrong, but that was the only way to see you without you seeing me."

The anger kind of subsided, but there was still some there. "Why?" You asked confused.

"Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be please with someone like this," their hand displayed their definetly not human body to you," appearing to you. So, I tried to stick to the shadows, which is hard when you humans are light based."

Light based? You glanced around at the numerous candles burning through your house. Oh, before your electricity went out, your lights were always on. Guess would have been hard for them to navigate.

"But you still didn't answer my question. Why are you here? Why are you trying to see me?" You asked splaying your hand against your chest. They started playing with the bottom of their hair as if they were trying to distract yourself.

"Well, Sunday, I was schedule to retrieve an old woman soul. She was schedule to get hit by an 18 wheeler around noon. But this human stopped it somehow and I was… well curious. So I started following you around, which I knew was creepy, but humans can't see us when we don't want them to, so I was just gonna stay for a little bit. But then I became fascinated by how you lived your normal human life. And so, I continued to watch. I didn't plan on staying for too long or causing too much trouble."

"If you wanted to get to know me, you could have just simply talked to me, like we are doing now. I'm sure you thought I would scream my head off, but I didn't, did I?" You sat down on the back out your couch. It was kind of uncomfortable, but it will have to due for now.

"I guess not. So your not scared of me," they asked talking a step forward, slowly sinking their talons into the carpet. The high burning candles casted an eerie light over the creature beside you. But the light pink blush on their mask and the way the talons on their hands were twirling the ends of their hair, made them seem like the least threating thing in the world.

"As long as you stop staring at me while I sleep," the blush returned back heavier," and don't lurk in the shadow. I'll say we could be good friends."

"Friends," they whispered as if testing the word. "I've never had a friend before." You jumped off the back of the couch. You slowly made your way over to the creature. They truly did tower over you.

"Well, there's a first for everything," you said sticking your hand out towards them. They looked down at your hand before slowly lifting their owns and laying it gently into yours. Their skin was slightly cooler than yours, but it felt pleasant. Their skin felt like silky and flawless. "You can now say you got yourself a friend Death."

Part 2

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Tadaaa. Yeah, I didn't have the usual things I like to include, but at the same I time I really hope y'all like it. Please comment on any of my works, I love reading them. Tell me what you would like to see more of or if you interested in seeing me write somrthing new. I'm also interested in writing headcanons, so start requesting some. Any way, enjoy your the rest of your day or night.

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moonlit-seren · 5 years

Text

Reasons To Stay || Jung Yunho x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Y/n’s been working for one of the biggest news companies in Seoul for five years now, and like many others she/he wants a change in scenery. However, there are a handful of things keeping her/him from leaving, and one of them came in the form of an accidental blind date.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: SOFTNESS OVERDOSE- None

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: I’m posting my very first Ateez imagine on my two week anniversary as a new Atiny. I’m so psyched to be a part of this growing family and I’d like to thank @every1studio for welcoming me into it UwU. The main character’s best friend was inspired by this ray of sunshine right here @rubyyong, I wanted to show her a little appreciation for being one of the many writers who influence me to become better and let her know that I’m here supporting her from afar. So yeah, happy reading. <3

꧁Masterlist꧂

I sighed, glancing through one of the floor length windows adjacent to my desk. It was a particularly nice day outside, the fluffy clouds casting dark shadows on the world while the sun lit it up with a brilliant glow. The contrast was nearly eerie, like yin and yang, both the sun and the clouds out of our reach yet seemingly tangible if you lay on your back and reach your hands for the sky.

The streets below seemed busier than usual, the already terrible traffic appeared far more congested than normal. Due to the lack of movement in the streets, the multitude of car horns blared in a messy diarray with one another, the loud sounds varying in pitch but all sharing one thing in common. They wouldn’t stop.

Looking down at the vehicles made me glad that the office’s walls were soundproof, otherwise everyone in the building would have gone deaf by now. However, there were a few unlucky people on the street who had to endure cacophony of car horns as their speed quickened while walking to whatever destination they had in mind.

“It’s terrible isn’t it?” asked one of my coworkers, the newly promoted intern seeming to appear out of the blue. Her name was Chloe and she was one of the few reasons why I hadn’t quit my job yet in this suffocating office building. We worked for one of Seoul’s biggest news companies, her in the creative department and me in the editorial department.

Our departments were located on different floors, so it surprised me to see her standing here, one hand fiddling with her ID badge and the other resting on her hip. Her eyes were trained on the streets below like mine were, before fluttering up to meet mine while waiting for my response.

I simply nodded as my eyebrows furrowed, hoping that the traffic wouldn’t be this bad when I had to drive back to my apartment in the evening. It already took a solid half an hour to drive back home without any traffic jams, and just imagining trying to get back while moving at a snail’s pace… Well, I honestly didn’t even want to imagine that.

“I heard someone in the elevator say that the city closed a few roads to repair them, so that must be the reason why there’s so much traffic,” I stated, eyebrows arched and lips pursed in an expression that read ‘I don’t really know’ while I shrugged to emphasize my lack of knowledge over the situation.

Chloe nodded as if to show that she’d agreed with my thoughts, her sleek high ponytail bouncing with the movement. She was wearing a knee length, peach colored sundress today, with soft magenta roses littering the garment like powdered sugar on freshly baked cupcakes. Her excellent sense of fashion always brought a bright burst of liveliness into the office, regardless of whether she was in a black, leather jacket or a pastel blue sweater top.

The comparison I always made, much to her distaste, was a small, yet thriving plant amidst a world of manmade objects and other inanimate items. I thought it was fitting. She just found it cliché.

It was a little off how we ended up as friends. Originally I thought that it’d be best to keep my distance, as bubbly people tend to get annoying after a while. Although, when I was asked to show her around the building, I realized that her perkiness was a breath of fresh air compared to the droopy gazes of the sleepy workers mulling about on my floor.

She was a ray of sunshine that lit my dim world and inspired me to let loose and remember what it’s like seeing things from an optimistic point of view. To put it simply, she helped me learn to live again, something I had forgotten when I reached adulthood.

Suddenly seeming to remember why she was up here, Chloe let out a small “Oh, right” while snapping her fingers before turning her body away from the window to face me instead. “I just wanted to inform you that it was lunch break, since you tend to forget while you’re immersed in the fancy world of grammar and punctuation.”

Her wild hand gestures accompanying the last three words of her sentence had me rolling my eyes. It was a known fact that no one on my floor, except for me, actually enjoyed correcting the numerous grammatical errors of others.

I couldn’t blame them though, since most of us were just here to make a living. Which brings me to my second reason for tolerating my job. I used to love the idea of doing something in this field for a living, words always had a way to entrance me in them which explains why I practically lived in libraries growing up.

I practically jumped at the opportunity when I was offered this job, but after five years of being stuck here, the magic of it all faded away into oblivion. Originally I was only working part time, since I was in my second year of college, but when I graduated I was given a full time job.

Of course, when I entered the company, I started at the very bottom of the corporate ladder. My main job was to be an errand girl like Chloe was before her promotion. I won’t even lie, it was absolutely horrible, and I know the girl in front of me would agree.

I can’t even recall how many cups of coffee just a single worker needed, as they would all fall asleep otherwise. In the first few hours of the morning, the demand for coffee was so great that I had petitioned for there to be five coffee machines rather than the two that we had.

Needless to say, I went home everyday with at least one new burn from the boiling hot liquid I had to carry around, and my hands really weren’t a pretty sight due to them. Thankfully I learned my lesson after the first week, opting to buy gloves that would help protect my hands and a bright red stop sign I attached to my tray so that people would stop running into me.

It was quite the sight, and really just a mortifying memory I have ingrained in the back of my head. Though Chloe didn’t have it as bad, shortly after I was promoted the company bought three more coffee machines as requested and hired more people so that there were more sets of hands dealing everyone their daily doses of caffeine.

Which brings me back to present day, as a 22 year old who seemed to age mentally far beyond my actual years living on this earth.

“Yeah, I didn’t notice the time. Do you want to go get a drink with me? I heard a new cafe opened up a few blocks down and so far there have only been positive reviews from the people I’ve asked about it,” I asked, kind of hoping that Chloe would agree to go, because who wouldn’t want some company?

However, I could see her response before she verbalized it in the way that she furrowed her eyebrows with a slight pout. “I can’t, there’s a new batch of interns that came in just yesterday, and for some reason none of them know how to work a coffee machine.”

I laughed at her predicament, imagining Chloe surrounded by a small group of college students too used to buying an overpriced coffee at a local cafe than to make their own brews with a machine.

“Okay, have fun,” I teased, standing up to stretch my back and roll a few cricks out of my neck. Chloe cringed at the little pops and cracks, reaching behind me to help pick up my bag that strewn across the back of my chair. It was pretty warm outside still, being in the early months of fall, which is why I didn’t have a coat with me.

I thanked her as I slipped the bag over my shoulder, before walking away with a slight wave. Since Chloe wouldn’t be going with me today, I decided to get her something at the cafe since I knew her taste in pastries and drinks quite well.

The elevator ride was pretty quick, albeit rather crowded as large groups of people were also on their way out to enjoy their break somewhere else.

The company was rather generous with its workers, allowing them a full hour long break before returning back to their 9-5 schedule. Maybe that was my third reason for staying at the company despite being sick of the mountain of words I had to go through daily.

The elevator reached the lobby floor with a small ding, the door nearly closing on me as everyone shuffled out of the metal box. I had allowed myself to get trapped near the back of the elevator as people piled in, which was why I had been the last to leave.

The front lobby was rather big, with a fancy granite front desk with gold accenting, and several marble columns spread around the floor to support the high ceiling.

To the right of the front desk was a small sitting area marked by a sprawling beige rug, dark leather couches, and a bamboo table resting in the middle. To the left of the front desk was a small water fountain with a family of koi fish lazily swimming about the bed of pennies and nickels thrown in.

I never really understood the point of throwing coins into fountains. People were basically wasting change, poisoning the fish, and drowning their elusive dreams in a supposed wishing well.

Still, I never voiced my thoughts out loud. After all, I didn’t want to crush the pure wishes of the children begging for coins from their parents in order to perform the simple act of hoping.

Not to mention that I had also fit into that crowd as a young girl, making desperate wishes to get the boy I liked to like me back. Of course, they were all left unheard, or maybe even ignored, which only served to fuel my distaste for making wishes on copper coins.

I’d much rather save my change to tip baristas, as I finally understood their struggle after having made hundreds of cups of coffee myself. It was a grueling task and I couldn’t help but sympathize with anyone who had to do what I did as an intern for a living.

Speaking of which, I made my way out of the front door of the office building, immediately cringing at the racket of noise that met my ears. Much to my bittersweet relief, the cars seemed to be moving a tad bit faster than earlier.

Albeit, the new set of cars didn’t sound any different from the last set, with their loud beeping at the mini traffic jams that hadn’t quite thinned out yet.

I reached into my purse and pulled out my earbuds, skilled fingers working quickly to untangle the messy knots the cord had fallen into. There had never been a day where I found them neatly folded like I had left them, so untangling them had become a regular part of my daily routine.

It didn’t take very long, and soon enough I had them plugged into my phone and placed in my ears. Going to my usual playlist, a slow smile spread across my face at the song that had arisen first by chance.

The noise of the car horns completely drowned out with the melody playing in my ears, and I happily mouthed along to the lyrics when the sidewalk before me cleared of any prying eyes as I walked down it.

The only people who could see me making a slight fool out of myself was the people in the cars adjacent to me, nevertheless, they all seemed far too preoccupied with their own lives to notice. Some were on their madly typing away at their phones, others messing with toys they had received with their fast food, and in the driver’s case: vigorously slamming their fists on their horns as if it would help resolve the situation.

“Snapping, snapping,” I whispered softly, eyes taking on a playful lilt as I fell into step with the beat of the song. Despite wanting to burst out dancing, I restrained myself as my mouth snapped closed with an audible click when a figure appeared several feet in front of me.

I wasn’t quite ready to let go of my dignity to the extent of having a little dance break in the middle of the sidewalk of a bustling city. I could practically see steam coming out of the nose of the young woman in front of me, so I popped out an earbud wondering what she could be fuming about.

“Stupid date left me waiting there… Screw men… If I ever get my hands on him… He’ll be dead meat…”

The rest of her words faded with the growing distance between us, having already passed by her as she was walking off in the opposite direction.

“She must’ve been stood up,” I thought, almost pitying her if not for her horrid attitude and snobby scowl. Her date might of had a reason for not showing up, who knows?

Realizing that I had reached my destination, I looked up to check the name of the cafe to be sure. The sign was done in a beautiful gradient with a faint blush pink fading into a vibrant fuchsia. Looking out front, there were bright posters taped to the windows advertising popular drinks and desserts.

Just from the prices on the posters, I could this was a higher class joint, as there was even a small seating area outside with large, turquoise blue umbrellas shielding the tables from the sun. Not to mention that the place also offered breakfast and lunch despite just being a cafe.

In spite of the high prices, I stepped through the door, taking notice of the white daisies growing in the pastel green window boxes. The golden bells above the door chimed, notifying my entrance.

Like always, I was instantly hit with the heavenly scent of freshly ground cinnamon and coffee beans that most cafes seemed to boost.

After becoming employed, I never really had to worry about spending a little extra on a higher quality drink everyday. The high paycheck was the fourth reason why I found the idea of leaving my job so difficult. Besides, It never hurt to have a little extra cash in my bank account in case of a financial emergency.

Slowly making my way to a booth, I took in the interior of the cafe. The walls of the joint were painted the same color as the window boxes, with accenting lining the corners of the spacy room matched the color of the umbrellas outside. The round tables had a translucent glass top with black metal legs, and the chairs sitting around them were made of the same black metal twisted into an intricate design.

I highly doubted the large jewels in the back of the chairs were made of real glass, though they shone the same way a real gem would in the soft lighting coming from the beautiful light fixtures dangling from the ceiling.

There was a marble front desk where the cashier was incase someone just wanted to grab a takeout coffee and/or pastry. Speaking of which, there were numerous display cases lining the marble counters filled with various treats ranging from rainbow colored macarons to cream filled mochi.

Although, there were waiters and waitresses that came to you if you get their attention, in case you have the time to sit about, which is what I choose to do. Standing in line in front of the cashier just seemed like far too much work today, so I decided to just skip the wait.

I sat down in one of the empty booths lining the wall of the cafe. They also had glass table tops, however they were rectangular and the seats were made of artificial black leather the same shade as the chairs in the center of the room.

Suddenly a tall figure burst through the front door, the bells in front of the door crashing together rather harshly unlike the gentle tingle they let out when I walked through.

The male seemed to be around my age, though it was rather hard to tell if he was older or younger considering how his youthful face was paired with a ridiculously tall stature.

The straps of his beige jacket fluttered behind him in the small gust of his abrupt entrance, nearly getting caught in the closing door. His almost puppy like features were framed was light blue hair that looked softer than the clouds I had been admiring in the morning.

I was suddenly struck with the creeping urge to run my hands through the strands, causing an immediate flush to race up my neck as I averted my gaze.

“What am I thinking?” I thought, embarrassment and guilt coursing through my veins. This was precisely why I avoided attractive men like my life depended on it, because I knew as a matter of fact that my dignity did.

The moment my eyes settled on someone who was remotely handsome, my heart raced so quickly that I felt a love struck school girl all over again. Nonetheless, I could never keep my eyes off beautiful specimen for long, hence why my gaze subconsciously traveled back to the male standing at the doorway.

His eyes had been roaming the room, his shoulders sinking dejectedly as he didn’t seem to see who or what he was looking for. However, when he continued to look around his eyes met mine, much to my horror.

His eyes lit up, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ shape, as my eyes snapped back to my lap. A string of curses flew across the forefront of my mind at getting caught staring, as I desperately hoped with all of my being that he wouldn’t walk over.

Of course the heavens ignored my plead.

The cute male slid into the seat across from mine with an apologetic smile. Which struck me as odd as I should have been the apologetic one. Yet the words that slipped out of his lips were far odder, in my opinion.

“I’m so sorry for being late, the traffic today truly was horrible and I ended up stuck in this one traffic jam for…” he started, trailing off as he lifted his wrist to check his watch for the time. “An hour.”

“Huh?” I asked, completely confused. An extremely attractive stranger suddenly appeared out of nowhere, approached me out of all the pretty girls sitting alone in this cafe, and started apologizing when we had never met each other before?

I was about as lost as the person across from me was hot. Like dang, his visuals really attracted the curious gaze of all the aforementioned ladies sitting around the room.

Suddenly something nagged at the back of my mind, the vivid image of the woman from early resurfacing from my memories.

Oh.

He must have thought that I was his blind date.

I opened my mouth to explain the situation, but before I had the chance to collect my thoughts, the guy started talking once again. He had been taking off his coat so he didn’t see the way I had been gaping while pondering how to tell him he had mistaken me for someone else.

He looked up at me, eyes widening when he realized that he never introduced himself. A spellbinding smile spreading across his soft features as he held his hand across the table for a handshake. “Right, my name is Yunho, it’s nice to meet you.”

I hesitantly took his hand, introducing myself with a shaky smile. One look into his warm eyes and I knew that I couldn’t break it to him that his real date had left like a fiery hurricane while spitting out curses like a tasteless rapper.

Yunho repeated my name slowly, as if the savor each and every syllable with a thoughtful smile. It was clear that he was about to drop a cliché pickup line from the way his eyes sparkled mischievously, however, that didn’t soften the impact as my cheeks flushed red. “What a beautiful name.”

What he did next completely caught me off guard as he started mumbling to himself with a sly smile. “I wonder what our ship name would be…”

Deciding that my heart wouldn’t be able to take anymore of his cheesiness, I waved one of the waiters over.

“Ready to order?” Asked the waiter, his ears tinting red when I directed my gaze at him. His grip tightened a little on his mini clipboard and pen, eyes averting to Yunho instead.

“How cute,” I thought, slightly flattered over his actions. Although I never really dated before, I could recognize that smitten expression anywhere. It was then that I recalled that I never actually looked at the small menu, however, that didn’t turn out to be a problem as Yunho ordered for the both of us.

“Have you been here before?” I asked, surprised because I never saw him look at the menu either before the waiter walked away. The cafe opened a few days ago, so it wasn’t entirely unbelievable that he had gone before, though I didn’t think that was the case.

“No, I just ordered the special today if that’s okay with you,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. His shy smile was a stark contrast to the confident front he had thrown up while flirting with me.

I smiled, nodding to assure that I didn’t mind as I would’ve done the same thing. From his timid gaze, I could tell that he never really went out on dates, which greatly relieved me as I hadn’t either.

The waiter came back around again in a few minutes with two plates of omelets with hot cheese oozing out of the seams and juicy, cubed tomatoes peeking through pale yellow egg. On the side of both plates were small bowls of freshly cut fruit topped with little mint sprigs.

It gave off a very insta worthy aesthetic, so I fished out my phone before taking a bite, raising the camera. A smile unknowingly spread across my face at how at peace Yunho looked with the warm afternoon sun perfectly catching the soft curves of his full cheeks while simultaneously dusting golden flakes into his umber eyes.

I lifted my camera a little further, so that it still captured the plate before me but also included Yunho’s adorably focused face. His eyes snapped up at the sound of the camera clicking, fork dangling an inch away from his mouth as I had caught him midbite.

I put my phone away, bashfully mumbling that he looked like an angel glowing in the sunlight like that and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to capture the moment. He blinked a few times in surprise, before laughing softly.

“You should’ve told me beforehand, I could’ve posed,” he teased, cheekily wiggling two peace signs in front of his eyes before drawing up two finger hearts.

I blushed, internally cooing at how cute he looked with such an innocent sparkle in his eye that I thought only existed in children. He was everything he looked like at that moment. A complete and utter angel who radiated purity under the glimmering sun.

Deciding to get something to drink, we called the waiter over once more, who whipped out his mini notepad habitually. And like earlier, he refused to meet my gaze for long, something both Yunho and I noticed.

Yunho flashed me a wink, nudging his head subtly at the waiter as if we weren’t on a date ourselves. I hid a giggle behind my hand at his goofy antics, quickly returning my arm back to the table when the waiter glanced up at me for a second.

“I’ll take two bubble teas with normal tapioca,” I requested, biting back a smile at the bewildered look Yunho shot me. He asked for an iced latte, eyes never leaving mine as the waiter walked away.

“Do you really like bubble tea that much?” He asked, a little awestruck. It wouldn’t have been all that surprising if I did, since everyone on Earth had one big craving they could never get enough of. So, I nodded firmly, looking him dead in the eye with a stoic “yes”.

He looked scared for a moment as if worried he said something wrong and at that I couldn’t hide my snicker.

“I do, but the second cup isn’t for me. I promised a friend that I’d bring her back something since she couldn’t go out for her break,” I explained, smiling cordially as his expression melted back into its usual peaceful bliss.

“How thoughtful,” he whispered, but I heard his sweet words as my disappearing blush suddenly bloomed all over again. I chose to ignore his comment, eyes flashing up to the waiter who reappeared once more with our drinks and a plate of bite size sugar cookies.

He placed all three cups down before putting down the plate with a quiet clinking sound. “Here’s a complimentary plate of sugar cookies for all customers who come during our opening week. Enjoy.”

And with that, he was gone again, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get away.

“Does he think I have the bubonic plague?” I wondered aloud, despite knowing why he was in such a rush. It was written all over the back of his neck and the tips of his ears in various hues of red.

“Maybe you should ask for his number,” mused Yunho, still very clearly amused over the waiter’s crush on me. I narorred my eyes at him, normally if a date encouraged you to pick up someone else then that’s a telltale sign that they’re obviously not interested in a relationship with you.

However, I could tell that Yunho meant everything that he was saying lightheartedly, so I decided to tease him back. “No thanks, I’d rather have yours.”

I could tell the unexpected flirt stunned Yunho, as his jaw dropped. I winked at him the same way he winked at me when the waiter came over, enjoying his flustered reaction. Despite the fact that Yunho would tower over me if we both stood up, he looked no bigger than a child at the moment shrinking into himself with a fiery blush. “Oh.”

I loved how table had turned, with how many times he caused my cheeks to tint pink. It was a small stroke of success, but I didn’t have the heart to continue. Taking the initiative, I asked him about himself, wanting to spend the time we had together developing a close friendship since he seemed to be a fun person to have around.

It wasn’t long before we fell into a deep conversation about ourselves. I learned that he was indeed younger than me by two years, and managed to convince him to call me noona but drop all other honorifics.

Honestly if anyone had told me that I’d end up on a date with someone younger than me, I wouldn’t have believed them. It was always a condition on my ideal type list that the male had to be older. Yet the ridiculous list completely faded away into nothingness in the back of my mind the longer I talked to Yunho.

Instead a new list wrote itself with only two conditions on it: His eyes had to sparkle like a galaxy of stars being reflected on a still lake and his smile had to hold the same warmth as a steaming cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter night.

In other words it was describing the person sitting right in front of me, as he threw his head back, laughing at one of the many comical stories I told him about my fanatical college days.

He was currently in college right now, majoring in the same subject that I majored in. It was nice having someone relate so hard to my past struggles, as he was going through the same things I had gone through with crazy strict teachers and boisterous students marching down the halls like they owned the school.

In return I told him about how I worked as an editor, along with a few facts about me that few people knew or cared to ask about, such as my lowkey love for the artist Chungha.

Yunho said that he had heard a few of her songs before too, leading us down another conversation about our tastes in music and other pop culture.

Sometime during the conversation, Yunho’s phone started to ring as he excused himself from the table. I called the waiter over again during that time, asking for a small takeout bag.

I stuffed the rest of the cookies into it, deciding to take them back to Chloe along with the drink. Pausing for a bit, I pulled out one cookie and placed it back onto the plate incase Yunho wanted one more.

It wasn’t long before he came back, brushing off the topic when I asked him if the call was important. I didn’t want to invade his privacy, hence why I didn’t push the topic. In fact, I only asked because I didn’t want to keep him if there was some sort of emergency.

We picked up on the tail of our last conversation, reengaging in a passionate debate over which Harry Potter book was the best and other things of the sort.

Before I knew it, half an hour past and my break was about to end in twenty minutes. As much as I enjoyed learning about Yunho’s love for sports, fascination over the Harry Potter, and sweet but wild group of friends, I didn’t even want to think about how my manager would breath down my back if I came back late.

Looking down to see my empty cup, I realized with a start that my hand had somehow ended up in Yunho’s. During our conversation his hand had gotten closer and closer to mine, as I had left it lying on the table. I didn’t remember when that had changed, from the tips of his fingers brushing mine to slipping his hand on top of my own.

I wasn’t sure if he noticed this, but when I tried to remove my hand back from his grip, his hold only tightened as his thumb brushed the back of my hand. It became clear that it had been quite intentional.

“Hey, Yunho?” I asked, eyes lifting from our hands up to his face.

“Yeah?” He asked, sweet smile never leaving his lips before the corner of his lips quirked up into a small smirk. It was clear that he was only teasing me by not letting go, as I uncomfortably shifted in my chair.

Deciding not to mention it to save a little bit of my pride, I glanced over at the antique clock on the opposite wall. “My lunch break is nearly over, I have to go.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of my statement, reaching over with his free hand to sling his coat over his arm. “Is it close to here?”

“Yeah, just a ten minute walk away.”

He got up, pulling me up with my hand in his. Before I could comprehend what he was doing, he intertwined our fingers, taking the last sugar cookie off the plate and stuffing it in my mouth to muffle my protests.

My ears were burning scarlet as he led me out of the cafe, pouting slightly as I chewed. This guy seriously… A question floated up, bubbling through my mouth as I looked up at Yunho with furrowed eyebrows. “Did we just dine and dash?”

Yunho shook his head with a little laugh, eyes shifting down to meet mine before looking forward again. “No, I covered the bill earlier.”

That had me pause in my step, causing Yunho to come to a stop too since our hands were intertwined. I don’t recall ever receiving the bill at our table, nor did I hear Yunho say that he was going up front to pay, otherwise I would’ve forced him to split the bill. Although, there was that one time he left to take a call…

That was when the realization of what had happened dawned on me and from Yunho’s knowing smile he could tell that I had figured it out. “You didn’t.”

“But, I did.” he chuckled once more, pulling me forward as he began to walk again. It was clear that he didn’t actually know where we were going, so I widened my stride a little so that we would be walking side by side. It was rather sweet how he intended to walk me back to my office, the same way a guy would take a date home.

Before we got far, my phone went off, the familiar tune of Chungha’s debut song filling the silence between us. My cheeks flushed pink at Yunho’s teasing gaze, deepening as he teased, “Didn’t you say you were just a minor fan?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I brushed him off, excusing myself to take the call. The caller ID read ‘Chlo~’ with a couple of red hearts after it.

“Where are you? You’re usually back by now!” Exclaimed Chloe from the other side of the line, the faint bubbling in the background signifying that she was currently in the lobby near the fountain.

“Sorry, I lost track of time,” I apologized, smiling sheepishly despite the fact that she couldn’t see me. I heard Chloe sigh, telling me to hurry up and get back because ‘she missed me’ before hanging up.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, before swiftly making my way back to Yunho. “Sorry about that, my coworker was fretting over the fact that I wasn’t back yet.”

Yunho shook his head to dismiss my apology, saying not to worry about it since he was the one taking up my time.

Suddenly, a familiar voice could be heard from the distance coming closer and closer. “Stupid day… No, stupid date… Ditched by a guy now ditched by my clutch… I must have left if in that stupid cafe.”

The girl from earlier appeared in front of us as she rounded the corner, with her head down as she appeared to be typing away angrily on her phone. Pure and sheer panic coursed through my veins at the sight of her. If she was indeed who I thought she was, then the moment she opened her mouth, I’d be exposed.

However, before I could do anything, she slammed in Yunho’s chest due to not watching where she was going. Yunho’s hands flew to her shoulders to steady her, wincing at how he hadn’t seen her coming either since he had been looking at me.

“Watch where you’re- Oh,” she trailed off, eyes widening when she lifted her head up and saw Yunho’s face for the first time. It was almost comical how Yunho could attract the interest of everyone around him without even trying, me being included.

Her hands slowly slipped up to his arms, squeezing lightly while a flirtatious smile replaced her scowl. Since she was so close to Yunho, her back was to me and couldn’t see what I was doing.

Despite being wary of the situation, I couldn’t help but let out an over exaggerated, but silent, gagging noise. I muffled my own laughter at the act with the palm of my hand, however, Yunho didn’t have the liberty to, which was why he couldn’t hide his chuckle.

The girl clinging onto him was confused, but somehow took that as a positive sign as she started to bat her freakishly long eyelashes at him. “Hey, aren’t you Yunho? My name is Hayoung, I’m pretty sure a guy from my class set us up on a date. What was his name again… Junhao?”

I felt like my heart had stopped at her words, hands becoming cold and clammy as I looked at Yunho. Would he get mad at me? Maybe even leave and go on the date that he missed with Hayoung? In my defense I had tried to tell him that I wasn’t his date, though to be fair I really could have tried harder.

Still, Yunho didn’t notice my terrified gaze, instead looking at Hayoung’s hands which were shamelessly feeling up his biceps. He reached up to pry her hands off of him, stepping back to put some distance between the two of them.

“Yeah, that’s me, though I don’t think it’s appropriate to hang off a guy in front of his date,” he commented, shocking me to my core. Yunho finally looked at me with a soft smile, taking one of my hands in his once more.

Hayoung’s wide eyes weren’t nearly as large as mine as we were both baffled over what had just happened. My eyes kept scanning over Yunho’s face to see if I could get a read over his thoughts, yet all I could see in his eyes was the same warmth they always held.

He squeezed my hand in response, assuring me that he didn’t regret his actions as he turned back to look at a gaping Hayoung.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we really need to go,” Yunho stated, quickly leading us away from the fuming girl.

Once we reached my office building, I stopped in front of it, saying that this was me. I gently pulled my hand out of his, shyly brushing a stray strand of hair out of my eyes.

Yunho, tucked both of his hands into his pockets as he stood in front of me, not quite wanting to leave, yet not having a valid reason to stay.

I took that as my que to ask the question burning in the back of my mind. “You didn’t seem very surprised at Hayoung’s appearance, did you know I wasn’t your date?”

Yunho nodded with a guilty smile, reaching up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Yeah, the call I took earlier was from my friend Jongho, saying that Hayoung called chewing his ear off. I also may or may not have known what she looked like beforehand…”

My jaw dropped at his confession, and to think that I had worried over nothing. “You knew and yet you approached me out of the blue? Why in the world would you do something like that? Not saying that I didn’t enjoy your company, but that’s kinda creepy you know…”

“Sorry, you were just the most attractive person I’ve ever seen in my life. Not to mention the fact that you seemed to be alone in the cafe,” Yunho apologized, eyes dropping to the floor as he was unable to meet my gaze in fear of being scolded. I was stunned into silence. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me, especially from someone so good looking.

Shoving down the reprimand I had in mind, I jokingly nudged Yunho in the ribs to get him to look at me again. “Well she didn’t really seem to be your type anyways.”

Yunho laughed at this, wholeheartedly agreeing with me. “It seems you know my type better than my own friends. Though to be honest, I’m pretty sure Jongho knew that I would never approach a girl like Hayoung and was only trying to get me back for finishing the last bottle of Sprite from his secret collection. We’re housemates.”

I laughed at his in depth explanation, relating to his struggles. Chloe moved in with me in the summer, a few months after we met. The air conditioning unit in her run down apartment kept breaking down and was twice the distance from the company than mine.

It was far more convenient with her as a housemate as we had more spare change to spend on the money we saved on rent with a split bill. However, with every housemate comes the temptation of stealing their things.

Just recalling that one time I finished the last slice of the cake Chloe bought… She deemed it fair play to sprinkle a few pinches of flour in our shared hairdryer while I was in the shower. Though I couldn’t get mad at her for it though, because she apologized immediately after, while laughing her head off. It was extremely fortunate for her that I loved her, otherwise she would have been in for it.

“Hey, you said you were an editor, but you never mentioned the fact that you worked for this particular company,” mused Yunho, drawing me back from the mini memory lane my mind had skipped down.

“Oh I must’ve forgotten to mention it,” I said, arching an eyebrow at Yunho who’s smile spread impossibly wider. I was curious as to why me working at this company sparked his interest so much.

“You know, I just passed my interview here a few months ago?” asked Yunho casually, eyes gleaming playfully at the way my eyes widened at his words.

“Holy spades, though why weren’t you with the other interns today?” I asked, recalling the reason why Chloe couldn’t join me today.

“Well we were toured around the company earlier this morning but when my group was handed off to this other woman I turned out to be the only person who knew how to work the coffee machine. I used to work part time as a barista,” he explained with a mirthful tone of voice.

“That’s explains it,” I thought, nodding at his words. As much as I loved talking to Yunho today, I knew my break was drawing to a close and that I needed to leave soon.

“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing each other more often then,” I smiled at him bashfully, already visualizing what it would be like seeing him around at the office in the future.

“Yeah,” he agreed, hesitating a little with his next actions before stepping forward and placing a chaste kiss on my cheek.

He pulled away with a burning red blush crawling up his neck as he waved goodbye and walked off, back in the direction of the cafe and what I assumed was his car.

I shoved down my own blush, trying to recollect myself as I stepped back into the front lobby of my apartment building.

Chloe was sitting on the rim of the fountain, seemingly preoccupied with her phone. It was clear that she hadn’t seen what went down outside, otherwise she would’ve pounced on me right then and there with a mountain of questions.

Sneaking up beside her, I dangled the paper bag of sugar cookies in front of her face with a small “tada”. Chloe looked up from her phone, smiling at the bag. “Ah, you’re back. Thanks.”

I also handed her the sealed takeout cup of bubble tea and a plastic straw that I had kept hidden inside of my bag. Miraculously there was still a few ice cubes left, as the cafe had its air conditioner turned pretty high to combat the early fall heat. Or maybe it was just that my bag had some sort of secret insulation tech embedded into the interior pouch. Who knows?

She accepted it with yet another “thanks” and popped the straw through the plastic covering. Taking a small sip, she hummed in content with the sweet drink. I grinned at her as she looked down at the sweet drink as if she was trying to see a visible difference between this mixture and every other milk tea she’s tried.

The cafe really did the name of bubble tea justice, with chewy tapioca pearls of a perfect consistency and a tea base with just the right amount of sugar and flavouring. It was a little pricier as expected, however the extra dollar was definitely worth it.

“It’s good isn’t it?” I asked, as she nodded without an ounce of hesitation much like I did at Yunho when he inquired about my love for bubble tea.

We made our way to the elevator arm in arm, with Chloe asking me why I had been gone for so long.

“Were you with a guy?” Chloe asked teasingly, expecting my usual mundane response of “no”. After all, dates were never my thing and she knew that quite well. I glanced at the bright red numbers flashing in the elevator’s screen, noticing that it had reached my floor.

“Actually, yes I was,” I stated mischievously, stepping out of the elevator when the door opened. I spun around, watching as Chloe’s eyes widened.

“What?!” she exclaimed, watching in horror as the door started closing before she could ask anymore questions. I knew that she wouldn’t risk angering her manager by going back late as she certainly would if she ran out of the elevator after me.

I waved at her as the door shut, laughing a little. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get away from her later when we got home, however, I was too giddy to really think about how I’d suffer her wrath for dropping a bomb like that and just leaving.

Making my way back to my own desk, I plopped down in the spinning chair with a soft smile at everything that had occurred today. Sure, the traffic I’d have to deal with later might put a damper on my mood, and sure, I’d have to deal with Chloe’s inevitable interrogation but the carefree giddiness I felt at that moment felt like it would last forever.

When tomorrow comes, the internships will officially start and with them will come the one blue haired male that captured my attention today and heck, maybe he’ll be my fifth and final reason to stay.

#ateez #yunho #fanfiction #imagine #oneshot #romance #fluff #ateez yunho imagine #ateez yunho oneshot #ateez yunho fanfic

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nightofnyx8 · 5 years

Text

I’d Still Choose You (Part 2)

Well, in honor of the new Titans trailer coming out today, I finally added another part to this story. And remember how I said the first part was going to be the longest? Well, I lied. Also, I’m not sure if this will have just three parts, or four. Sometimes when I write the story takes a life of its own! But here you, Part 2! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

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The perks of being the adopted son of a billionaire? You could get whatever kind of international coffee you wanted, as long as it was 99% caffeine.

As much as Dick appreciated Rachel's herbal tea, he had been asking for Arabic black coffee every time he came over to Wayne Manor. Alfred would usually protest against this, but lately he only had to look at the dark circles under Dick's eyes to know it was probably for the better.

"Master Dick, you are sleeping, are you not?"

Dick drunk deeply from the steaming hot mug. "Yes. Maybe just, not the amount of hours I'd prefer."

Alfred sighed as he took back the cup. "I do worry, that is all."

"I'll be alright, Alfred."

The older gentlemen gave him a pointed look until he finally relented to the question in Dick's eyes.

"Miss Kory is already waiting for you out in the gardens."

"Thanks Alfred."

Dick had been coming out to Wayne Manor every day for the past two weeks. He spent most of his time with Kory, taking her on walks to get her out of the house while simultaneously answering all of her many questions. This morning was no exception, as an hour later they found themselves strolling along the harbor in the brisk autumn wind. Today's topic was none other than Batman himself, as Kory had seen Bruce leave the manor many times in the later hours of the evening.

"So…the Batman is Bruce Wayne." She stated emphatically.

"Yes."

"And you also participate in the saving of others in a costume and mask."

"Yup."

"And…I do this as well?"

Dick laughed. "Yes, you too. Let's just say that Earth has…problems. And when there's bad people who are too big for the law, that's where we come in."

"So, we are as a league of protection?"

"Something like that."

Kory smiled and shook her head. "What a strange life."

She leaned over the edge of the dock railing to see the ocean better, letting Dick rest his head on her shoulder. She seemed to be becoming more comfortable with Dick's presence these days. To the very least, she had gotten used to the idea that she was special to him.

Dick closed his eyes, enjoying her silent company before finally summoning up the courage to ask her the question that had been on his mind all morning.

"Kory?"

"Yes?"

"How would you feel if we um, stayed out a little later tonight? You and me?"

She gazed curiously at him. "What are you implying?"

"I would like to take you on a date."

"A date?" She questioned skeptically.

"Yes. Would you, Princess Koriand'r, do me the honor of accompanying me this evening?"

Kory sighed and bowed her head, staring at the rotting wood below them. Dick knew she was still wary of the fact that she was married to a man she didn't know anymore. After all, who wouldn't be in her situation? Maybe he was moving too fast, and maybe he should have been backing off right now.

But every moment he wasn't with her, he felt something ache terribly inside of him. He missed her laugh, the way her face lit up when she saw him. He missed her gentle kisses and tight embraces, and just how free she made him feel.

You don't just give that up.

Kory had resolved to playing with the tips of her hair. "I don't know, Dick."

"Come on, Kory. Just to get out and have a little fun."

She glanced over at him suspiciously. "Fun?'

Dick put up his hands in mock surrender. "I promise I'll be a good boy and behave. I'll even get you home before midnight so Alfred doesn't ground you and come after me with a shotgun."

She laughed. "That is not why, I promise. It is only that…"

She trailed off, her unspoken words building up under her pained expression—an expression that Dick recognized. The very same one she wore in that cave long ago, when she had asked him how she was to know how he felt about her. Obviously, she didn't remember that conversation. But he did.

"Hey." He took one of her hands and squeezed it gently. "I know this is hard. But you've always taught me it's okay to take some chances, even if we might get hurt along the way."

"I did?"

"The Kory I knew was never one to be hesitant." He said reassuringly. "Maybe, maybe it'll help your memory a bit. But for tonight, let's just try to get to know one another again."

She smiled softly at him, the sunlight shimmering off the curls of her hair. "Alright, Dick. I can take a chance."

"That's my girl."

****************************************

He drove up to the entrance of Wayne Manor around eight. (How ironic it was to be picking up his own wife for a date from the very house he grew up in). He tugged restlessly at the open collar of his leather windbreaker. Why was he so nervous?

But all of that melted away when he was greeted with the sight of his wife as she opened the door. He had brought over a bag of her clothes a few days ago, along with some other personal belongings she might have needed. For tonight she had opted for a simple white blouse with jeans, her long red hair tied back in a high ponytail.

"You look beautiful." He said simply.

A red tinge appeared on her cheeks, and she looked down with a small smile.

"Thank you. You, um, you too."

"You trying to tell me I look beautiful?"

She looked up mortified and started to protest, but Dick just laughed and took her hand.

"Come on,"

"Where are we going?

"You'll see."

He led her down the driveway, revealing a sleek, blue motorcycle parked near the edge. He positioned himself in the seat and looked to see Kory standing awkwardly near the side.

"Well, jump on." He chimed.

"Is it safe?"

He laughed again, extending his arm towards her. "Quite."

She climbed onto the back cautiously, wrapping her arms around his waist for support.

"Hold on tight."

"Do I have a choice?" She managed to squeak out before he hit the accelerator to maximum speed.

Gotham was an excellent place to ride a motorcycle. Dick rounded the corners quickly, weaving effortlessly between the crawling traffic. He really didn't need to take the long way there, but he loved hearing her small gasps of surprise whenever they took a sharp turn. She laughed with delight as they sped alongside the water, bringing a smile to his face.

At last they stopped along the edge of the pier, the water reflecting the Ferris wheel lights along the surface.

"Where are we?"

"See for yourself." He replied, helping her off the motorcycle.

She looked around, the carnival buzzing with activity. Children chased each other with neon glowsticks while booth keepers encouraged loudly for families to try their luck at the games. The air smelled of buttered popcorn and smoky ash as colorful fireworks burst into the air above them.

Kory turned to smile at him, but instead found him offering her a cone of bright pink cotton candy. She took a bite cautiously, letting out a small laugh as she savored the taste.

"It's wonderful!"

Dick grinned. "Come on, I want to show you something."

It took a little bit of convincing, but he finally got her to join him on the old, rickety booth that glided slowly upward until they reached the top of the Ferris wheel. They had a perfect view of Gotham City, the skylights gleaming in the distance. Kory leaned forward and stared curiously at the scene in front of them.

Dick, meanwhile, had stretched out his arms behind him. "You loved being here." He said casually. "I'd always take you here every time the carnival came into town."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It was at a carnival like this one where we actually talked to each other for the first time."

He gazed off into the distance, lost in the memory until he heard Kory clear her throat tentatively.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked with a nervous timbre.

He looked back at her. "Yeah, anything."

She took a deep breath and bit the inside of her cheek. "How did we meet?"

"Oh." Dick leaned forward in the booth and tried to think. Where to begin? "Well, when the Gordanians took you from Tameran, eventually you escaped, and the first planet you came to was Earth."

He looked over at her. She was listening silently, staring intently at him.

"And then well, the Gordanians started attacking Earth since they were looking for you, and you kind of ran into us."

"Us?"

"The Titans. You remember Rachel and Garfield from the manor, right? They were in Jump City as well. And there was also Victor, you know, that cyborg who visited you last week and brought you that music box."

"Ah, yes." She mused, as if recalling the soft Tamaranean lullaby Victor had installed within the trinket.

"Well, you ran into us, since you were um, destroying the city. But we finally got you to talk to us and I uh…introduced you to the language."

He glanced over at her to see if she reacted. She said nothing, so he continued.

"You became part of the team, and you and I got closer over time."

"Closer." She repeated carefully.

"Mmm, I would say it took me forever at least. Not that great at talking about how I feel. But, one thing led to another, and after a few bumps in the road, we finally got married."

Of course, there was a lot more than that to the story. Different teams, different costumes, and even different planets accompanied a tale of two lovers who seemed to take forever to make up their minds about each other. There were so many midnight flights and dancing on rooftops that made him fall deeper in love with her every time. And obviously, there had been fights and misunderstandings as well. His stubborn and secluded disposition would ignite her fiery temper and their fights only ended much later when he played the piano to call her down the stairs, the notes speaking the apology much better than his own words (well, that and the kisses that always came after). How could you possibly "sum up" a relationship that had extended over ten years?

Kory seemed to have closed up all her words, and Dick allowed a comfortable silence fall over them as they sat there, watching the fireworks bloom above them in red and gold sparks. He placed his hand over hers on the wooden bench between them, and she allowed it to stay there. Small victories.

"How would you feel if I took you out again next Friday?" He asked, breaking the silence.

"You mean, on another date?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "I mean, still lots to learn about this Boy Wonder, right?"

She pursed her lips, but her eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. She considered the idea for a minute before finally relenting.

"Alright. As long as you buy more of the vanishing cloud candy."

Small victories indeed.

****************************************

Kory was already regretting her decision. She couldn't believe Dick had talked her into this. Gear up in her Tamaranean attire, sure; shoot some starbolts, why not? But to take down criminals as part of Bludhaven's vigilante superhero team? What had she gotten herself into?

"I am not certain that I am exactly comfortable with this." She stated, picking nervously at the hem of her skirt.

Dick shot her a sideways smile. She had not anticipated his uniform in the slightest when he had emerged on the roof half an hour earlier. He was clad in a jet-black bodysuit that made him almost as black as the night itself. Electric blue stripes cut through his chest and down to his fingertips, the color matching the dangerous electricity that sparked from two iron sticks sheathed onto his back. "Come on, Kory. You do this all the time with me."

"Do I?" Kory looked over the skyline, letting the cool night air tingle her bare arms. It wasn't fear that rushed through her veins. No, she was used to defending her planet from unwanted invaders. But this was something different altogether. She felt her emotions swirl inside of her. Uncertainty, restlessness, and…excitement? Her heart raced with anticipation and her body tensed, as though jumping off a twenty-story building was just a normal, nightly routine.

She caught Dick watching her carefully. His blue eyes were now hidden by the inky mask he had donned, making him look more sinister as he turned up the corners of his lips.

"You look…different in a mask." She decided.

"Well I certainly hope so. Kind of the point of a secret identity."

Right. No one else knew Nightwing was really Dick Grayson, just as no one else knew that Starfire, the name she was apparently known by on Earth, was really Kory Anders (her other, other name). She shook her head in disbelief. Starfire, Kory Anders, Koriand'r: no one wonder she ended up with a headache whenever she tried to remember her past. She couldn't even get her own name right.

Dick was filling in Rachel and Garfield (sorry, Raven and Beast Boy) on the patrol positions. Both had volunteered to help look after Bludhaven for a little while, as recent events had somewhat interrupted Nightwing's usual routine.

"Alright, the night's not getting any younger. Raven, stake out on the right side of 8th Avenue with Beast Boy. Two weeks without any supervision and this city is making Gotham's criminals look like harmless angels."

Beast Boy spoke up. "Does that mean Joker's been demoted? Because I think Batman's out of a job then."

Dick scowled. "Just get the job done. And no arcade stops this time."

Beast Boy stuck out his tongue. "Killjoy." But he complied with Raven's huffs of exasperation and transformed into a crow before they both sailed out into the city.

Dick turned to Kory. "Starfire, you and I will take the left flank of the city. We'll set up watch from the news tower until trouble arrives."

She nodded, resisting the urge to bolt right past him and straight back to Wayne Manor.

He must have noticed her hesitation, because he took her hand and squeezed it with assurance. "Don't worry. Just be yourself. You're a natural at this, I promise."

She smiled slightly and allowed him to lead her towards the edge of the building. Dick prepared to release what looked like some sort of zip line when he stopped, receiving a line of communication in his earpiece.

He looked annoyed as he answered. The words he chose were not exactly kind, so Kory assumed he was talking to Bruce. After a few minutes of banter, he looked towards her and gestured towards the tower. His message was clear: I'll meet you there.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. At least flying was nothing new to her.

One. Two. Three.

Kory took off into the night sky, letting go of all the fear and confusion that had built up from the past two weeks. The wind rushed through her hair as it billowed all around her. Climbing higher and higher into the sky, she laughed in delight. Oh, how she had missed this! Allowing herself to fall for a few moments, she closed her eyes and let time stop, pure happiness welling up inside her like a balloon. Glowing, bursting happiness! Moments before reaching the roof of a particular tall hotel, she stopped and landed gently.

She had overstepped their meeting place. The broadcasting tower stood tall and dark in the distance. She prepared herself to launch again when she caught sight of the night sky above her.

The void was inky black, glittering with thousands of twinkling stars. Her Tamaran was up there somewhere, and oh how she longed to see it again.

"Enjoying the view, are we?"

She jumped, turning to see the owner of the voice, but saw nothing.

"Nightwing?"

The voice laughed, sending chills up Kory's spine. The voice was smooth, like velvet, but held a sinister tone as though it were enjoying watching something die slowly.

"Who are you?"

"Really my dear, I would have thought that by now we would have known each other quite well."

Realizing too late, a bulging figure materialized behind her, holding her in an iron grip. Fear clenched her heart, her strength leaving her in a moment of weakness.

"Let-let me go!"

"Oh dear, you're trembling." She flinched as he crooned in her ear. "Not too good for you. Fear and confusion do tend to block certain abilities of yours, now don't they? But there's no need to be quite so scared, Starfire. I come only with a message."

She tried to gain control of her pounding heartbeat. "W-what do you want?"

"You seem to be having some memory issues. I can help you with that."

"And why would I need anything from you?" She protested defiantly. "My friends are already helping me."

"Are they your friends, my darling? How do you know you can trust them? After all, you don't remember them anymore better than you remember me."

"You don't know anything about me."

She recoiled to the sound of his ragged laugh. "I know all that I need to, sweetheart. As for your friends, do you really think they're all so innocent, so good? Even after all this time, you're still so incredibly naïve."

"You're wrong!" A hot pull burned at the pit of her stomach as her alien strength returned. She wrenched herself out of his grip and charged a starbolt to face the monster before her.

The greenish glow of her energy orb revealed a man who stood over six feet tall, his whole body clad in heavy armor. The white eye slit in his orange and black mask was the only opening, giving off a cruel aura in every way imaginable.

But the figure only laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of fighting you alone, Princess. But my offer still stands. And if you ever want to have your memories back, you will meet me here in one month, the exact same time."

"Never!"

"Well then, I suggest you get used to being entirely, hopelessly clueless for the rest of your life."

"SLADE!" A defiant voice yelled. Both turned to see Nightwing standing on top of the water tower, his iron pipes charged to the maximum. Raven and Beast Boy flanked his sides, both tensed and ready to attack. Kory had never seen Dick look so angry.

"Leave her alone!"

"Oh my, such an improper greeting. I would have thought, old friend, that you would have had better manners by now."

"I said, leave her alone!"

"Relax, Robin." He said calmly as Nightwing flinched. "We were just saying hello, weren't we, my dear?"

Kory said nothing, her starbolt still crackling in the night air.

She couldn't see his face, but she could have sworn she saw him grin under the mask.

"Well, until later, dear Princess." He said as he disappeared into the darkness, but she thought she could still feel his eerie presence watching her every move.

Nightwing jumped down from the water tower and took her gently by the shoulders. "Kory, are you okay?" He brushed her hair out of her eyes, taking her face in his hands.

Kory nodded. "I am unharmed."

"Did he say anything to you?"

You think they're all so innocent, so good? How can you possibly trust them?

"No." she replied shakily. "Just…introducing himself."

Dick cursed under his breath. "Come on, let's get you back to Wayne Manor." He was breathing heavily, his hands shaking as he sheathed his escrima sticks. Raven and Beast Boy didn't look any less relaxed.

"Dick?" She stated tentatively.

"What is it?"

"Who was that?"

He stared straight at her, his mask hiding whatever emotion he conveyed in his eyes. For a moment, they stood there in silence, letting the night air suffocate the distance between them before an answer finally detached from his lips.

"No one, Star. No one you need to remember."

#dickkory #robstar #fanfiction #writing #teentitans #dickgrayson #koriandr #nightwing #kory anders #starfire #enjoy!

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ashtonandcalslefthand · 5 years

Text

Checkmate (Prince!Cal) Part One

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Slowburn shitty writing, sorry.

Dedicated: To @angelbabylu for coming up with 90% of the beautiful names in this story and to @heartbreak-5sos for the infinite love and support you’ve given me, even if I don’t deserve it. Love you, Buggy 💗

She sat elegantly upon her throne as her brother furrowed his brow in concentration, the way she did everything. The wooden pieces were scattered across the board in a way that anybody else would call random, but nothing she did was ever ‘random’. Finally, Noah dragged his rook right, and his eyes lit up, his face lifting into an ecstatic grin, “Check.” He said in ecstatic surprise. She returned his bright smile with a cool smirk, and his face immediately fell.

She picked up her bishop, relishing the cool, smooth wooden piece in her hand as she took his queen in a simple, sweeping feat. She had won the game for the eighteenth time in a row. Her brother’s jaw fell agape in shock as his eyes widened in shock. She grinned slyly, “Checkmate.”

Elena watched as her brother’s eyes scanned the board, obviously attempting to point out a flaw in her moves, but he wouldn’t be able to. She knew it. Her plans were always meticulously perfected. “But, no. That can’t be right!” His eyebrows furrowed as she stood from her seat, her gown rippling with the sudden and unpredicted movement. He looked up at her, pouting slightly. “I really thought I had you that time.”

She let out a small, light chuckle, folding her hands behind her back, “I know you did.” She walked toward the hall, her heels interrupting the clean silence with every step. “Also, you know the rules, Noah. The loser cleans the board.” She said with a small pitiful smile, walking away as her brother groaned.

She had almost just left the room when Noah spoke. “You know, you will be expected in the throne room soon for the introductions, then in the ballroom for the remainder of the night. You won’t have much time for your reading and moping today.” She sent him a sharp glare but didn’t respond. Of course, she knew about what was happening today. It was custom for the groom to visit his bride’s home for a month since she would be living in his for the rest of her life.

Most women would be excited, but Elena saw it under a completely different light. To most people, it was an official engagement. To Elena, it was an unofficial trap.

“How could I forget?” She asked under her breath -- not to Noah, but to herself. She turned once again and walked down the hall, her head high and her jaw set. She walked down the hall the way she did everything -- elegantly.

“I overheard this afternoon from your mother that your prince’s name is Calum,” Emma whispered with a quiet giggle as she brushed through Elena’s long hair. “I asked around the girl’s of the castle, apparently he’s an angel in black.” Elena stared at herself in the mirror, blinking with the reflection as a small grin danced on her lips.

“Calum Hood,” She mumbled, tasting the name in her mouth. Elena had known the family name, but her parents refused to tell her anything else. Emma, her maid and closest friend, was her one and only source of information, and she never disappointed. “Tell me more about this black-clad angel.”

Emma giggled once more, wrapping Elena’s hair with gems and jewels as she tugged and teased, “According to rumours, he’s the precise opposite of you,”

Elena hummed a response, closing her eyes in an attempt to imagine what this mystery man might look like, “So there’s absolutely no chance of me liking him?”

Emma burst out in a fit of laughter before silencing herself, letting out a few stray chuckles, “I doubt you are so vain, Elena.” She said quietly, running her fingers through Elena’s hair once more.

Elena raised her eyebrows in the mirror but remained silent and still as Emma continued her quick-fingered work of preparing Elena for the dreaded night. The night she’d been looking forward to for weeks, the night that would set her fate in stone.

The night.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. Elena’s eyes were greeted by Noah in a suit blatantly tailored for a prince. Such a meticulous outfit paired with such a wild person was humourous to her. Elena found it so comical that she became oblivious to the lustful gaze Noah shared with Emma.

“Well, don’t you look dashing?” Noah scoffed at his sister’s ironic remark, running a hand through his hair, returning it to its natural unruly state.

“Shut up,“ He said jokingly, making his way to his sister as Emma tugged on her hair harder. “You look rather dashing yourself, El.” He mocked as Elena laughed and Emma blushed -- something she was prone to do around Noah.

“It’s all because of Emma’s talented fingers,” Elena beamed. Noah’s eyebrows shot up.

“Talented fingers you say?” He asked with a smirk that flew just below Elena’s radar. “Well, I just need to borrow Emma very quickly. Her quick fingers are needed,” Emma jumped up, knocking over a little cup of hairpins. She squealed, picking all the pins back up rapidly.

“Well, it looks like she’s done anyways,” Chuckled Elena. “She’s all yours,” She said and rose from her seat calmly as Noah walked out of the room, followed by Emma’s small stature.

“I know.“ He said with a grin. And then they were gone, and Elena was alone.

Elena felt royal. She felt it with every long-stride step she took and every bow she received. As she sat in the throne room, Noah to her left and her parents to her right, she as able to inhale without fear. This was her kingdom, this was her palace, this was her throne, and she was in control.

And then the Hoods walked in.

They walked in with a calm, serene, friendly air about them, with all the elegance and confidence of a royal family. Except for the son. Calum Hood.

He walked in with arrogance, smugness, cockiness, and certainty. He was dressed in a black jacket -- which was rolled up in the sleeves -- and a black shirt -- which was half unbuttoned -- and his crown -- which was nearly falling off.

“Welcome,” The king started with a warm (and obviously forced) smile, “To our kingdom.” Elena tuned out after that, she already knew the usual introductions and how long they took. Instead, she spent her time more wisely. She observed her fiancee.

He had dark, curly hair and it spiralled off his head into a mess of waves. That must drive the other girls wild, Elena thought. It didn’t help that he was tall and broad. He must’ve been a couple inches taller than Noah, and Noah towered above Elena, she could only imagine how tall Calum would be when compared to her, even in heels. She dragged her eyes all over him, attempting to memorize his features, attempting to size him up. It was only when her sight returned to his eyes that she noticed he was doing the same to her.

Most people would have looked away, blushed, something, but all the prince did was blink at her lazily, which she returned with her own unimpressed blink. And then they were staring at each other.

Neither was weak enough to break the gaze and yet neither was strong enough to speak out. So, they stared at each other with a calm, burning intensity. Finally, as Elena’s father’s speech came to a close, Calum blinked and Elena’s back straightened in pride and slight arrogance.

Calum didn’t look back at her for another five minutes, but when he did, she was looking right back at him with a smirk imprinted on her elegant face. Her lips formed soundless words, but he received the message. Checkmate.

The ballroom was big and beautiful, crafted to impress and impress it did. The ceiling was arched way above the dance floor, which was made of wood, sleek and smooth to the touch, and it was so clean it practically glowed underneath the light of the crystal chandeliers placed along the core of the ceiling. The whole room glittered gold, reflections of the colourful gowns and the star-dimming jewels moved like shadows along the dance floor. The whole room itself seemed to vibrate with the sound of music and polite chatter. She stood in the corner, far away from her family, further away from her guests, and furthest away from her fiance.

Still, just like her mother taught her, whatever you attempt to push away will always come back to you with twice as much force. She probably shouldn’t have taken her mother’s advice so lightly, especially during a moonlit walk in the garden.

Stop and smell the roses, that was one of Elena’s life mottos, and she thought of it with a grin as she bent over next to the bush of ruby red roses, inhaling the sickly sweet aroma of the blossoms. Suddenly, she began to choke and cough on what she quickly identified as smoke. Elena turned on her heel, looking around with eyes full of alarm, only to find Calum leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand.

Calum felt a presence and couldn’t help the immediate reaction of clenching his jaw. He’d never liked people, much preferred the company of a cigarette and some whiskey, not that his parents would ever let him say that out loud. So, he took a drag off the disease-stricken stick, inhaled, closed his eyes, and exhaled again. And he relished it.

“Those can kill you.” She did not say it as a question, she did not say it with disappointment, she said it as a fact, and Calum admired that. Lazily, he turned his head with his eyes still closed and opened his eyes to look at her.

His parents had refused to tell him anything about his fiancee before the limo ride over, during which they told him her name, which wasn’t particularly appreciated on Calum’s part, but they told him nothing about her appearance. At that point, he hadn’t expected much about this princess of his, but when he met her he had to bite his tongue so as to not drop his jaw. She was not the delicate little flower he expected, she was the delicate little bomb.

Calum shrugged nonchalantly at Elena as he inhaled another puff of smoke, “I know,” He didn’t flinch as he exhaled the smoke into her eyes. She didn’t flinch, either.

Without hesitation, she reached across him and plucked the cigarette from his long fingers with grace and light dominance. He didn’t attempt to pull it away from her like he would have with anybody else. Curiously, he simply watched as she pulled the cigarette up to her lips and inhaled fluently before passing it back to him, at which point he inhaled as she exhaled, and then he passed it to her and she took a drag as he exhaled. They continued this, smoking and breathing and slowly killing themselves together under the moon until the sun started to rise. At which point, the cigarette burned out. And then they lit another one.

The sun shone through the curtains, and he couldn’t help but admire her beautiful, soft features, the slight dip of her waist and how all of the creases in her forehead disappeared amidst the dreams she had in her sleep. He sat up, leaving as much of the room undisturbed as he stood up, redressed himself, kissed her forehead and whispered a quick, silent goodbye, and snuck out of the small room. Nobody had noticed when Noah and Emma snuck out of the ballroom together, quietly, of course, and made their way up to her still, seclusive bedchamber.

In the still of the late night, or, more like early morning, the ruffled and flushed prince made his way down the stairs, quickly buttoning his shirt back up as he ran down the steps, practically flying. It was to his dismay that the party was still alive, despite how long he’d been gone. He stopped by a mirror, quickly centring his jacket and fixing his hair before entering the ballroom.

Noah wasn’t as noticed as he usually was, today wasn’t about him. There were no ladies of the court hurling themselves at him, there were no relatives fawning over the oldest child, there were no visiting princesses or kings attempting to strike a deal with the family, no one was here for him. Everyone was here for his sister.

And no one knew where she was.

“I saw her just a moment ago, right before I spoke to Miranda, James, and Lacey. Oh, but I spoke to Meghan and Laura right after that...”

“Noah!” Everyone turned to him with wide eyes and fearful expressions, “Have you seen your sister?” He had been taught how to be the most regal of princes, and he acted the part under the heat of a hundred intense gazes.

“No,” He said, quickly coming up with lies that he’d begun to store in his mind. “I was just looking for her,” Noah’s hands had begun to sweat and he quickly hid them behind his back.

“Where have you searched?” His eyes darted across the room, avoiding eye contact.

“She wasn’t in the library or her room when I checked, but she could very well have moved,” He chuckled forcedly, “You know how restless Elena can be.”

No one was here for Noah, everyone was here for his sister, but all eyes were on him as he ordered the guards to search for her and then quickly started the music again, reassuring everyone that the party would continue.

No one was here for Noah as his hands' sweat for his sister and for Emma, who lay upstairs underneath her rough white sheets with a calm, angelic face. He didn’t know what he was doing as a thousand eyes gazed upon him for leadership and all he could hope was that, wherever Elena was, it was worth the trouble.

“The cigarette’s burned out,” Elena complained as she ground their third cigarette into the ground, frowning slightly.

Calum scoffed at her, “That would be because you keep smoking all of them.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, searching for warmth in the cold night air. The silence weighed down on both of them, the crushing pain of the whole night sky crashing down on their lungs making both their breaths laboured. “That was the last one,” Calum whispered, looking up as the sky’s blue lightened with every blink of his eyes.

“Okay,” She whispered back, staring at the ground.

The next time he turned to her, many minutes later, about to say something, he was only met by the cool night air. She had left, and now he regretted looking at the stars.

She was so much prettier.

Elena entered the ballroom with a frown and the faint smell of nicotine and moonlight clinging to her skin like a sheer sheet of sweat. She expected to be able to go up the stairwell silently, stripping off her breath-taking, rib-breaking dress, and going to sleep. She did not expect everyone to gather around her and begin screeching like out-of-tune hawks.

“Where on God’s green Earth were you?” The queen cried as she gripped onto Elena’s cheeks.

Startled, Elena stuttered. “I was, I, um, I-” Her mother paused her panic, looking at her with a level glare that said what Elena’s mother always said for her. It’s not becoming of a young woman to stutter. “I was outside. In the garden.” Elena stepped backwards, just outside of her mother’s reach, silently praying that she couldn’t smell the cigarette smoke on her breath, on her dress, on her skin. On her mind.

“The whole time?” Elena’s hair practically whipped as she snapped her head to the left, looking at her brother -- who looked oddly flushed.

Her eyebrows furrowed together at the look on everyone’s faces. “What do you mean, ‘this whole time’?” Everyone in the room collectively rolled their eyes. The court had an attitude this evening, apparently.

“Your Highness,” A guard she’d never met before started, “We haven’t seen you for four hours.” Her eyebrows skyrocketed and her jaw dropped as her eyes sought everyone else’s in the room. They weren’t lying.

“No,” She said, chuckling dryly, “No, that’s impossible.” She looked into her memory with open eyes. She had smoked in silence with her beautiful fiance for four hours. “No,”

Her mother blinked back to life as she pulled herself out of the scent of smoke and Calum’s body wash. “Where you alone all this time?” The queen asked fearfully, eyes kind.

Elena looked up, her mouth slightly parted with an unspoken truth. She looked beyond the crowd just in time to catch the beautiful prince’s dark eyes as he made his way towards the silent staircase, the sun starting to rise behind him in a beautiful glow. Not that Elena would admit it. They caught each other’s eyes just in time.

“Yes,” Elena said breathlessly, in a secret whisper. “All alone.”

Calum had almost slipped into shadows when she caught him mouthing wordlessly. Checkmate.

Tag List: @angelbabylu @5sosnsfw@bloodmoonashton@claredolphinbear24 @rainingcal @cal-pal-cuddles Thanks, love you <3

{💞💕 Message me if you’d like to be part of my tag list. 💕💞}{ 💞 💕 Don’t forget to send in asks and recs.💕💞 }

#prince #prince au #calum hood #princess elena #princess #noah #fanfiction #kinda proud #plz share #ily all #queued post #is this a good queue #well find out

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ilytuan · 5 years

Text

Safety First 「mark tuan」

genre › fluff ︱ slight angst | boyfriend!au

pairing › reader ︱ mark tuan

word count › 2,346

warning › minor car accident | anxiety

synopsis › you get involved in an accident one day and haven’t been able to drive without panicking ever since, so mark helps you try again and get back on your feet.

Mark’s eyes were as wide as saucers, staring at the scene of collision before him. The convenience store ice-creams he held in his hands were long forgotten and melted by now. His feet were cemented to the ground, and he urged his body to move forward but all that seemed to happen was a whimper of despair escaping his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes the longer he froze and the more he stared at your car.

But not that he realised, since he was dwelling over the fact that someone had collided with a sleek, black car. The car that you were in. He didn’t know much of what was happening except for the fact that you were hurt. And he wasn’t doing anything to help you.

The moments leading up to this were unclear and foggy in Mark’s memory when he tried to recall what exactly happened. He knew police would be here soon to ask what happened, and he needed to have clear judgement to help you. He was finally able to will himself to move and go up to where you were lying, more than likely unconscious or in pain, when the other car got out from his seat. Mark’s heart ached in pain before he was even able to get a glimpse of your face. It definitely was not good news. He didn’t need to check, the mass of onlookers and passing cars gathering around, and the frantic shouting was enough indication.

He caught sight of your hands on the steering wheel, your head resting on them, your neck surely uncomfortable at the position and shock. The door was dented and most likely prevented you from being able to push it open, as well as the glass that had shattered and entered parts of your smooth skin. Mark started crying as a middle-aged man stormed over to where you were.

Vicious shouting and curses filled his ears, and he looked away from your concealed face to turn to the man who was yelling. He was pointing and screaming at the people who were recording, demanding for someone to call insurance companies and get him his compensation. A furious glare appeared on Mark’s face, quickly wiping away all of the tears and any traces of sadness that he was sure were plain obvious, replacing it with anger and pure rage.

The shouting turned into a full screaming match between the man and Mark, both accusing each other of causing the accident. Mark was more than sure that none of this was your fault. He had seen the man collide into your side when the light had turned green for you, and red for him. All evidence pointed to him being right.

More people were gathering by the minutes, and the wailing of sirens finally sounded amidst the crowd. Finally you would be out and in medical care. Mark was relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with the guy who was obviously in the wrong. Stubborn people annoyed him the most. The people around the scene had recorded the screaming match, and several had reported what happened while Mark was in his frenzied state earlier, so he was confident that justice would prevail. The last thing he needed was to deal with a fraud who didn’t know his place.

Police and paramedics filed into the area, pushing away the onlookers frantically to do their job and inspecting the collision scene, paramedics figuring a way to get you out unharmed and police asking for witnesses and suspects to go to the station to give statements. The man was still shouting. Mark was wincing just at the thought of what injuries you had sustained, but he forced himself to keep an eye on you, in case he missed anything important. He needed to see you at least once to feel a little reassured before the dealt with the man and the police.

They pulled you out successfully, placing you on the stretcher with a neck brace and Mark sighed in relief at the sight of your open eyes. You were awake and although your senses were clouded, you were awake and doing well for the most part. He held your hand tightly in reassurance and followed you onto the ambulance before he noticed the ice-creams in his hand and burst out laughing, tears somehow flowing out too. He was so relieved.

“Are you okay?” is naturally the first thing he asked you. When you gave him a strained ‘yes’ due to the pain in your neck, he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against your warm hand. His hands were freezing cold from shock, it was a wonder how yours were so warm but he relished in them.

Treatment at the hospital had ended in a flash thankfully and the case was closed a day after because the man realised he was at fault only when Mark pointed out that there were several witnesses and CCTV cameras in the area. It was easy to call him out. The Gods were always on your side somehow. Mark says it’s because you’re an angel. The look of guilt that had painted his face almost made Mark laugh out loud, but he held back for your sake and because he wasn’t that mean.

He had an expensive looking car, though it pales in comparison to yours which was a gift from Mark. It only sustained a few scratches compared to your broken window and crushed door. He was, without a doubt, trying to get some money out of the accident judging from how he reacted.

Mark was somewhat glad that your ears had been ringing and you missed out on all the screaming. That guy was getting what he deserved now that he had to pay for all the damages, including your extravagant one. Karma’s truly a bitch and you didn’t pay those insane insurance fees for nothing after all.

But ever since then, though it was clearly clarified that you weren’t at fault, you haven’t been able to drive. The shock and trauma you got from the accident prevented you from even trying. You mostly opted to take public transport or get Mark to chauffeur you whenever he was available. Mark didn’t blame you at all, though he had asked countless of times if you ever wanted to drive again, reassurances and apologies following whenever he noticed your shaky hands or teary eyes and he eventually brushed it off, promising not to push it again.

You did want to drive though. In fact, you fingers ached to be behind the steering wheel; to drive through the night while blasting music or being able to go wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted with no limitations or worries to hold you down. It was your freedom.

The accident was almost never talked about, since you still felt anxious about it and so you never told Mark, but there was countless of days after the accident where you would just sit in his car, shivering with nerves and hands tightly gripping the steering wheel as if it would disappear. You desperately wished to drive, but whenever you put your foot down on the pedal, your heart raced with fear and anxious thoughts and doubts clouded your mind. Mark didn’t need to know that, although he was probably aware of it already because you tensed a little whenever you sat in the passenger seat. And because he knew you better than anyone else.

He was currently away for the day due to an urgent schedule, and you figured it was time for you to try out driving again. You had no idea when he would be home, but you were hoping it was enough time for you to at least start up the car and take a ride around the town. You wondered where the sudden confidence came from.

Mark had been there for you during the accident, and he was there whenever you had breakdowns or panic attacks, and maybe it would’ve been a smart idea to have him here with you when you tried out driving again, but you felt as if you had burdened him enough since that day, and you wanted to do this for yourself to overcome your fears. Mark would disagree in a heartbeat and would have jumped into the passenger seat in a split second if you had mentioned it, the thought of you bothering him not even existing in his mind. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

It was probably a bad idea to drive in the evening too, since it was getting dark much sooner now as it is winter but thinking about driving during the day made your heart pound and it gave you a headache. The accident had happened in the early afternoon, and the last thing you remembered seeing was the bright, blinding sunlight. A shiver ran down your spine when you imagined it.

Sitting in front of the wheel felt slightly different this time. Maybe because you knew you were going to be driving again sooner or later today, or because of the looming fear of an accident threatening to happen again. You hoped it wasn’t the latter.

But when you started the car, all of your rational and calm thoughts and feelings from before vanished, leaving you shaking in fear and with widened eyes, your hands couldn’t even grip the wheel for fear of accidentally moving or reeling back. There was no way you could do this.

Shaking your head in disbelief, tears unknowingly welled up in your eyes and you shut them closed, covering your ears to stop the ringing that you were beginning to faintly hear, like on the day of the accident when it wouldn’t stop deafening you.

All of these sounds and feelings distracted you from hearing the passenger door opening, and when Mark’s voice sounded, you jumped out of your skin, hiccuping.

“Does a ride around sound fun? We can get some food.” He spoke to you with an unreadable expression on his face that strangely comforted you. Everything about him comforted you and before you realised, the ringing and shaking stopped. The tears had dried up too, Mark’s warm hand wiping them away.

Almost as if you weren’t yourself, you nodded your head and held on lightly to the steering wheel, staring at it with a silent expression. You turned to look at Mark for reassurance, and he smiled warmly, encouraging you. It was now or never. You feared never being able to drive again more than you did of an accident occurring. Mark’s presence had managed to make you change your mind and you felt at ease. It definitely would’ve been a good idea to have asked him in the first place and save you from having a breakdown. He truly was the only supported you needed.

You switched seats and he drove to an empty train station for more range, the sun setting in the distance as you finally got ready to start up the car and move. “Is your seatbelt on?” Again, if not for Mark you would be doomed.

“Is it too late to ask for my car back? I miss her.” Mark’s angelic laugh was like music to your ears and further calmed your nerves. They were practically non-existent now. “It was totally crushed in the accident. We can buy you a new one.” He sounded like he had this planned beforehand.

You snapped your head to look at him and shot him an incredulous look. There was no way you were letting him buy you a car after all that he had already done for you. You smacked him on the arm when he raised his eyebrows at you suggestively, “okay, okay y/n! You don’t need to hit me, I won’t buy you one if you don’t want me to.” You glared at him for extra measure. There was no doubt in your mind that you were probably going to wake up to a new car within the next week. He never knew how to not spoil you.

Tapping your foot lightly on the pedal, the car came to life and moved forward. All other thoughts fled from your mind then, you needed to fully concentrate on this, especially with Mark in the car, not that he was judging or pressuring you. Just because you didn’t want anything bad to happen.

It moved faster the more you pushed down on the acceleration, and a thrilling look took over your features. You grinned widely, and your eyes were shining as you moved faster and faster, turning around corners and speeding in some. The feeling of driving was exhilarating, and a delighted laugh sounded through the luxurious car.

Unbeknown to you, Mark was grinning equally as wide, a proud and happy smile that replicated yours donning his features. He was beyond glad that you were getting back on your own two feet. He always knew you could do it, which was why he broke his promises of not pushing it. He wanted you to feel the thrill again as he knew how much you loved exploring and driving around in your car.

It was like your own personal world and it took you wherever you desired. The only thing you needed was a little push, the push that he gave you. Though you were already determined to do it on your own, a little support never hurt anyone. He wouldn’t have minded driving you around forever, but he knew you wanted to be on your own feet again.

He rolled down the window, turning on the radio and he started singing. This was what living felt like, you thought. You breathed a sigh of relief that you didn’t know you were holding. This is what the power of love can do for you. Glancing over at Mark briefly, you were somehow overcome with the confidence to let go of the brake and hold his hand. You couldn’t thank him enough for everything.

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