#its always trying to convince your friends to read your favourite book
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aftg is probably the only fandom in which the fans do not recommend the books to others
#aftg fan: talks a lot about aftg /x: should i read it? / aftg fan: no#its always trying to convince your friends to read your favourite book#but not with aftg#and i think thats precious#unique#aftg#all for the game#nora sakavic#all for the gay#fandoms
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One Day at a Time | Finnick Odair x Reader
Previous Part / THG Masterlist / Inbox
Summary: a short collection of sweet moments shared between you and Finnick as you recover, reminding the both of you of the love you share
(part 4 of the remember series but could also be read on its own I think, you can find the other parts in my masterlist)
Content Warnings / Tags: Fluff, no use of y/n, mentions of punching, I really think that's it.
Word Count: 1.6k
A/N: It's finally here! Sorry it took so long my only excuse is that I am an absolute mess of a human being which is a terrible one but oh well. This will be the final part of the series, hope the fluff makes up for all the heartbreak I've put you through <3
It's been a week now, one week of blissful moments spend with Finnick while recovering from the attack within district 13. After all that had happened you were in need of some peace, and the universe granted it.
On the first day you were still in the hospital wing, an IV dripping steady fluids into your system. You woke up to Finnick sitting next to you, one of his hands holding onto yours while the other was holding up a book. It was one of your favourites, and you had been pestering him about reading it so you could talk about it with him, but he had always brushed you off, saying he'd get around to it eventually. It seems eventually finally came around. You coaxed him into getting in the bed with you, he was hesitant at first, not wanting to hurt you, but he wasn't above your charms either, your eyes pleading with him in a way he couldn't resist. He had settled in behind you, letting you lean against him, ignoring the dirty look the nurse gave you. You had asked him to read to you, and even though you already knew it by heart, his sweet voice added a whole new element to the story so beloved.
The second day was spent trying to convince the nurse to let you leave the hospital room, if only for a few hours, she didn't initially want to agree, but Finnick simply wouldn't drop the subject. So you walked together towards the dinner hall, feeling like little children sneaking out past the curfew.
Supper had already finished, but Finnick was friends with one of the cooks who let him into the kitchens. He told you to sit down on the table in the middle of the room and gave you a quick peck on the lips before moving over to the fridge. It was simple, it wasn't much, but it was perfect. He would let you taste the dish in-between steps, always forgetting one ingredient or another, but you didn't mind reminding him. At some point you could have sworn he was doing it on purpose, but maybe he was just too caught up in having you there with him again. You offered to help with meting the butter, dicing the vegetables, stirring the sauce, but each and every time he would insist you stayed right where you were, accentuated with a quick kiss, his hands on your face smearing flour all over your jaw, not that you minded. He claimed he was the better cook anyway, that you'd only hold him back, now that one you both knew was a lie, but it was a precious one, one that didn't need to be disturbed.
Day three consisted of a slow day back in your room, having been cleared by the doctor and finally being in your own space again. You and Finnick hadn't shared a room in a while now with everything that had gone down, but you had immediately decided to spend your nights together again, not wanting to spend more time apart than necessary. You hadn't fully recovered yet, still needing your rest, but Finnick had set his mind on moving your things back into his room today.
So there you were, sitting crossed legged on his bed absentmindedly sipping on some coffee he had brought you as you watched him bustle about. He was only gone a few minutes at a time, but you never failed to produce a smile when you saw him approaching again, hands full with some of your books, the collection of flowers he had given you over the years that you had dried and pressed in-between the pages were sticking out slightly, but he handled them with care. Even while you weren't together you couldn't find it ins yourself to get rid of them, and you're glad of it now. He goes back and forth for a while, collecting your pillow, your skin care products, your small radio that barely managed to get a reception down here, but you couldn't bare to part with. Each time he'd ask you where you wanted him to put it down, carefully creating a space that consisted of the both of you.
On day four you had finally woken up in his arms again, wondering how you could have ever forgotten this feeling. When he noticed you were awake he had moved to place a delicate kiss on your lips, basking in the simplicity of the fact that he could. He had told you he had a surprise for you today, and you couldn't help how giddy you already got from the mere thought of what it could be. But it was oh so much better than you could have imagined, because today Finnick took you to the surface. How he managed to get you past all the checkpoints was beyond you, and when you asked he had simply said he had friends in all the right places.
It was a bit of a walk to the spot he wanted to take you, but you revelled in the sunlight against your face, needing to squint your eyes to see properly with how bright the sun was but too blissed to care. The high grass rustled against your bare legs as you continued to walk, and the tickling sensation brought back so many fond memories. When you finally made it to the clearing it was a sight from a dream. The tree next to the lake provided a shadow you could both comfortably lay in as the smell of the fresh water blessed your senses once more. The wildflowers adorning the space around you were once you could recall from back home, with a few others you couldn't identify. Finnick had picked a few, placing them behind your ear as he talked about what the flower meant. A myosotis, he had called it, representing true love and dedication. He told you about the myth behind the forget-me-nots, how they had been afraid of being forgotten by the gods, and you had vowed in return to never spend a day without thinking of him again.
During the fifth day you didn't do much of anything special, but you supposed that depends on your definition of the word. Finnick had made dandelion tea from flowers he had collected yesterday, the familiar taste bringing back a sense of nostalgia for a time that you wouldn't be able to return to. You had once told him your mother used to make it when you were sick, and ever since he would go collect them by the cliffs for you. You had insisted it was too much work that he didn't need to worry himself with, he had countered that he enjoyed the view where they grew anyway, and really, he was going for himself as much as for you. Maybe he had simply been trying to get you to stop fussing over the subject, maybe it had really been true.
You spend the day talking to your friends, reminiscing in regained memories and filling in gaps that you couldn't on your own. As you sat next to Johanna she talked on about the days Finnick spent longing after you, claiming he was alright wirh being just friends, but she was convinced that if any of her friends looked at her the way he looked at you she would have suckerpunched them.
On the sixth day you had begged Finnick train with you, saying how you wanted to get your strength back, how you missed the exercise and the content feeling of aching muscles. He had been reluctant, of course he had been, but once you had managed to drag him onto the training mat he revelled in it. He couldn't deny he had missed sparring with you, the action so effortless with you. He had made fun of how you threw your punches, saying you had to extent your arms further to complete the motion, but he was the one not protection his core properly while fixating on you. It had been good to feel your body in motion again, he was still stronger than you, knocking the breath out of your lungs once be stopped holding back, but you were still faster, getting the drop on him in the split seconds he was distracted. The manner in which your muscle memory still held up, the way in which you still used the same techniques without meaning to, it was good to know there are some things people can't take from you.
The seventh day you picked your routine back up. Waking up to an empty bed but not lonely, his side was still warm as you rolled over. Once you opened your eyes you saw the cup of coffee and the note on the bedside table. Finnick knew you never slept for long after he left, somehow he still knew. He had been given some time off during your recovery, but district 13 didn't stand still and they had needed his help. You weren't expected back yet, but the sense of purpose was one that you were always glad to have. You drank the coffee he left you as you got dressed, smiling as he had made it exactly to your liking, even if he used to complain you couldn't even call it coffee anymore with that much sugar in it. And so you went back to work, moving to scribble a quick message on the back of the note if he came back looking for you, not that he needed it, somehow he would always know where you were.
In the past week you had learned that a love as great as the one you shared with Finnick could never be forgotten, not really, because no matter how many memories faded, there would always come new ones. And soon, even though you didn't know it yet, Finnick would give you his mother's ring once more, and this time you would remember everything that led you here, and you would remember saying yes.
#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x y/n#finnick odair x you#finnick x reader#finnick x y/n#finnick x you#finnick fanfic#finnick odair angst#angst#finnick odair fanfic#the hunger games#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games angst#hunger games#thg#thg series#the hunger games x you#the hunger games x y/n#finnick odair fic#finnick odair fluff#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair#the hunger games finnick#the hunger games fluff#the hunger games finnick odair#the hunger games fanfiction#the hunger games trilogy#the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes#the hunger games rp#fluff
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never forever [jinyoung]
Just as much as you would have liked to delude yourself into thinking that you could have anything together with prince Jinyoung, it would be simply impossible as long as you were a servant and he was a prince. Which meant that you could never do so.
➳ Characters: prince!Jinyoung x female court lady!reader/you
➳ Genre: romance, angst, fantasy, magical realism, kingdom au
➳ Words: 11.8k
➳ Warning: mentions of minor character deaths, poison, political tension, attacks
➳ A/N: This story had the most votes in my poll, so I hope it lives up to your expectations. 🥰 It can be read on its own or with Seunghun's story that took place before this one. ❤️
➳ CIX taglist: @wccycc, @dat-town
When you had been younger, your favourite word had been ‘forever’. Warmth had always invaded your heart when you thought of this particular word, and how your parents had promised each other that they would love each other forever. Your mother had told you multiple times too that her love was not only infinite towards your father but you as well. Forever was like a precious friend to you, a little gem that you would try to keep safe as much as you could, holding it close to your heart, holding it dear.
Then, forever had turned to never when your mother had died. When you had realised that you would never see her again, your world had shattered, the little gem slipping through your fingers, falling to the ground and breaking into tiny pieces. Even though your father had reassured you that your mother would love you even from the spirit realm, you hadn’t been convinced because forever had seemed so far away. You had decided that it was stupid to have a word that didn’t make sense. After all, forever didn’t exist.
You had been 6 at that time. Your mother had been a lady-in-waiting to the Queen at the royal palace, so you hadn’t seen her during the week, only on the weekend. You had spent your days at home reading books and practising writing while your father had been teaching his pupils in a different room. He had been a great scholar, teaching those at your home who could not afford the institutions he had taught at most of the time. For some time, you had resented the royal family for keeping your mother away from you when you had known all too well that your mother had been deeply grateful for the royal court for providing her with a high status job and a very decent pay that allowed her to shower you in gifts.
On the other hand, when your mother had died, and the court had organised your mother a funeral, more glorious (thus more heart-wrenching) than you could have ever imagined, your feelings had completely changed. When the Queen had come up to you afterwards and lowered herself down to be at eye-level with you (disregarding the gasps from the court ladies around her, warning her of her dress potentially becoming smudged because of the muddy ground), your tears had fallen even more fervently. You had wanted nothing more than to hide during the ceremony, so to be seen and acknowledged by the Queen herself brought on a handful of different emotions.
“When I was around your age, I also lost my mother. I thought of it as a great shame on top of being a great loss. A young girl growing up without a mother? I thought people wouldn’t take me seriously, they wouldn’t look at me for who I am, they would always see the girl without a mother,” she had shared, and you had watched her with tears streaming down your face, your mouth slightly agape. You hadn’t heard of the Queen losing her mother at such a young age, but you had been young, and your parents hadn’t told you stories about the royal family back then.
“And they did?” You had asked between little sobs that reverberated through your body.
The Queen had given you a gentle smile, and you had wondered if all mothers smiled the same - so lovingly, so forgivingly, so reassuringly. Her smile hadn’t been exactly like your mother’s, but you could feel the genuine affectionate behind the delicate curve of her lips, something that mirrored your own mother’s. The kind of smile that parents gave you when you admitted that you did something wrong, but all that mattered to them was that you were safe and sound.
“No,” she had shaken her head. “I proved them wrong, and I showed them what I can do regardless of what happened. You can do, too,” she had added so confidently that your little heart had welcomed the undeniable hope that her words had brought along, newfound warmth spreading through your veins until you had realised that…
“But… I am not a royal.”
“Where you come from doesn’t matter, whether you have a positive impact on just one person or a whole nation doesn’t matter either. You are valuable as you are,” the Queen had pointed out, her words like a wise scholar’s. You had just blinked at her, wide-eyed and amazed, and you hadn’t even realised that you had stopped crying in the meantime, you had been so focused on what she had been saying.
You had been so awestruck that you couldn’t have spoken up, and you didn’t remember whether it had been what had prompted the Queen to bid her goodbye or she had been told by her court ladies to presume her duties for the day, but you remembered one thing very clearly.
That day, you had decided that you would have a positive impact on the Queen’s life, and you would try to be there for her just as much as she had been there for you at that time. So when a year later, the royal court had announced that they would hold their annual recruitment day for new servants, you had applied.
You had read every book on royal etiquette, you had learned embroidery, sewing and all sorts of activities that might be tested during the recruitment process in that year, determined on making the cut. You hadn’t even been the youngest candidate, there had been girls as young as 5 trying to secure a future for themselves (or more like pressured by their families), but you had been dedicated for a different reason: to serve the royal family and to repay them for all they had done for your family including sending your mother on her last journey so graciously.
Even though you hadn’t succeeded on the first try, you had done so a year later. Since then, you had been trying to live up to your mother’s memory, hoping that she would be proud of how you were serving the royal family, living to make their lives as comfortable as possible, living for them.
Little did you know, one day, that would be the exact same reason you would feel so torn to fall in love.
The first few years at the palace, you spent learning. Then, you applied what you learned. Then, you practised everything over and over again until you wouldn’t make a mistake. Finally, as years went by, your service to the palace became a valuable treasure, an important part of the operations. Your loyalty and diligence meant that you were keen on doing the best you could, and your perseverance didn’t waver even in hard times.
However, no matter the many lessons and learnings during those years, the greatest teacher and the dearest compliment you could get for your hard work was when you could upgrade your rank. After 15 years of service and being over the age of 20 meant that you could rightfully start serving one of the royal family members directly or one of those who stayed at the palace. For instance, a few girls who were at the congratulatory ceremony beside you would assist the royalty that were visiting the palace from time to time, and two of those now stayed beside a princess who came from a kingdom further up north, who was currently spending her time in exile at your court. Due to the trade agreements and favourable business partnerships, it wasn’t uncommon to provide a shelter or a hiding place for those who came from different kingdoms, but couldn’t stay in their own residence for whatever reason.
You, on the other hand, were assigned to the Queen herself, and even though you would never brag about your conversation with the Queen at your mother’s funeral ceremony, you knew that the smile she gave you when she handed you your new gown and your matching hairpin - engraved with a lotus symbol for prosperity and a dragon mimicking the ones that guarded the palace for safety - was telling tales about her positive feelings towards your future services.
After an elderly lady-in-waiting had passed away, two female servants took her place including you. You knew that you were still fairly young compared to the other court ladies, but you had been serving at the palace for so long already, and you excelled at every task they had given you. You knew though that the major reason that you had been assigned to the Queen was because you could read and write well, something that would be needed to discreetly handle the letters the Queen received and sent.
However, following the Queen almost everywhere meant that you had more interactions with the other royal family members and those who were close to them - soldiers in higher up ranks, master magicians and magical creature tamers. In passing by, you caught glimpses of the royal family members while serving them in the past years, but that couldn’t be compared to the experience of being in the same room with them, to see them from up-close.
When you first accompanied the Queen to the practise field where prince Jinyoung was receiving his training, you realised that he still lived in your memories as someone around your height with a cheeky smile when he was running around the court, making his nannies run after him, and you were taken aback by his height and his built now. He was tall and slender, but when he reached his sword out to attack, his muscles clearly showed through the thin fabric he wore. Drops of sweat rolled down his cheeks while he was concentrating, and his features were solemn and hard.
His practice partner was Seunghun - a soldier you saw around the court frequently. Rumour had it that he was courting one of the medics, but you didn’t know whether to believe that because all sorts of gossip were flying around. Besides, others’ love life was none of your business, but since you and Seunghun had joined the court around the same time, you knew him and his way of talking to the ladies - all smooth and flirtatious. He had that cheekiness to him even when he was younger, no wonder he was on good terms with the prince.
The Queen halted by the side of the field, and you did, too, a few steps away from her. The prince and the soldier were so engrossed in their practice battle that they didn’t even take notice of her presence until they finished with their round of sword fight, Seunghun coming out as the winner.
“What is the purpose of today’s practice?” The Queen raised her voice, confident and unwavering, while looking at the boys. Seunghun didn’t fail to bow upon seeing her, but his grin was still a bit cocky when he helped the prince to his feet.
“Just some… friendly duel, Your Majesty,” he answered joyfully, and he patted the prince’s shoulder when prince Jinyoung straightened up. “Even if he were to be seriously hurt, one of our great medics would tend to his wounds,” he added in a friendly manner, but you could hear the Queen’s voice hardening when she spoke up.
“Not so much if he can help it himself.”
“Of course,” the soldier’s smile faded immediately, and he bowed his head apologetically. Prince Jinyoung tensed a bit beside his friend, but his eyes were trained on his mother, not on his friend. You didn’t spend enough time around him to tell what his eyes could show, but you had a feeling that he wasn’t that delighted about the Queen’s words. If your assumption about his power was right, you knew why.
“Well then, keep going,” the Queen made a waving gesture with her hands, indicating that they could move on, and turned on her heels to head back to the palace. You bowed to the prince and soldier alongside the other servants, signalling your departure.
Afterwards, you waited for the older ladies to follow suit as they were the first to follow behind, you were supposed to be the last as you were the youngest one. Even though your rank was the same as theirs, age order was still important.
You took a few steps forward when you felt your hair loosen, and you instinctively reached for the back of your neck, gasping when you couldn’t feel your hairpin. You were about to turn around just at the same time as a figure slid into your vision, and put your lotus and dragon carved hairpin into your hands. It was for the briefest of a second, so was his rough touch, but you felt like you could feel the ghost of it on your skin even after he yanked it away.
Your eyes frantically went to the figure’s face, and you were about to open your mouth to thank him, but he put his index finger on his lips. Why couldn’t you thank prince Jinyoung for helping you out? Why wouldn’t you?
You were so baffled by his indication that words died on the tip of your tongue, and he was out of your reach as quickly as he ran up to you, so there was no way you could go after him. You were already behind the other servants, so you needed to catch up to them.
However, as you were hurrying after them, you looked back at the field, the prince and the soldier already in another round of a fight, no remains of the recent incident, only the ghost of his touch on your hand and the mystery in his pitch-black eyes when he handed you your hairpin.
In a magical kingdom like yours, you were grateful that you could be of help to the royal family even though you didn’t possess magic. The magic in your kingdom lied in healing, hence there were two types of medicine in your kingdom: magical and non-magical medicine. Magical medicine was mostly used on the members of the royal court including the royal family and the royal army, plus magical creatures that lived in the woods or in the mountains - such as fairies, unicorns and such - or serving the kingdom - such as dragons guarding the palace.
Non-magical medicine, on the other hand, was used on humans to treat their wounds, and that was what most medics practised outside of the palace, though it was applicable at the court as well in non-emergency cases and subtle illnesses. Magical medicine was also extremely rare since only magical practitioners could deal with it because they were the ones born with the ability to tame magic, but even they needed thorough practice and extensive training to be able to make use of their abilities to their full potential. Magical medics were also almost exclusively serving at the palace. The royal family was also said to be possessing magic in their veins, though they didn’t have to use it on themselves because the most powerful magicians were already in their court, serving them.
Neither of your ancestors had magic, so it was unlikely that you would, but having a scholar as a father and a royal servant as a mother meant that you knew that you could use other skills and strengths to your advantage, so you never felt any less than those who were born with magic. You were merely in awe at what some people could do, and when you could see for yourself how magical medics worked at the palace, you were mesmerised. Even if the Queen had a headache, not a physical injury, all the medic needed to do was place their hands above her core - the centre of her energy - and she was healed, though advised rest for the night.
For that reason, you could leave the Queen’s chamber earlier than usual after helping her to bed, and while the rest of the ladies were heading to their own rooms in the courtyard, you were staying back to stroll around the garden that separated the palace from the court. A part of the garden was reserved for the royal family only, but the other was accessible by everyone, and you liked walking around the pond dotted with a palette of colours, a different type of fish hiding behind each distinctly shaped creature, water lilies breaking the smooth surface of the water and lanterns lighting up the sideways like little stars on the sky.
When you walked these parts of the palace, you wondered if your mother had been the same. She hadn’t really talked about her time at the palace - what she was doing when she wasn’t on duty, how the place looked like and what was her favourite part of the court -, if she did, she only talked about the Queen and her admiration towards the woman. Ever since being part of the court though, you couldn’t help but imagine your mother walking down the same path, looking at the little bridge connecting the path to a pavilion as you did now, walking the same corridors and feeling the same sense of belonging as you did now.
“I hope you’re proud of me, mother,” you mumbled to the dark sky above you that seemed like a blanket covering the palace grounds, your words carried away by the gentle breeze of this fine spring night. You hoped that she was at peace in the spirit realm, and looked over you fondly. No matter how many years had passed by, there was still a part of you that missed her.
With a resigned sigh, you looked down at the pond in front of you, and decided to leave. However, as you were about to walk back, you crossed paths with prince Jinyoung who seemed to be walking around as well. You were surprised that he was alone, no soldiers guarding him, but maybe he had time to himself at these late hours just like the Queen did after you left her in her chambers.
“Your Highness,” you greeted him immediately, bowing out of respect. When you straightened your back, you looked up at the prince, and he was already looking at you, his deep, dark eyes boring into yours. It seemed that he was about to say something, but he changed his mind, and pressed his lips into a thin line. You blinked up at him, uncertain what to do or what to say for it was scarce that you were alone with a royal family member. In fact, it was the first time that it was just the two of you, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.
“Are you done for the day?” Prince Jinyoung broke the silence after clearing his throat, and your heart was both heavy and light upon his question. You didn’t know what you had expected him to say or if you had expected anything, but his inquiry still caught you off-guard. In a positive way.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
He bobbed his head, acknowledging your words, and you had a feeling that he wanted to say something but couldn’t this time either. Or maybe it was because he seemed so out of reach usually; the mighty, ethereal prince Jinyoung who was said to be cool-headed and reasonable, a great fighter and a hard-worker in whatever he did. He was said to excel in everything, making him the perfect heir to the throne. From a young age, he had the watching eyes of the people, the weight of the kingdom’s future on his shoulders, and a responsibility that could crush anyone, let alone a boy so young. In passing, he had always seemed so composed, knowing exactly what to do and what to say, and you had heard only good things about him.
On the other hand, he seemed so humane now. A human being searching for the right words to say with secrets in his heart and mysteries in his eyes. Libraries of tales were about him, but when he was standing there in front of you in his white royal attire, he seemed nothing more than a boy around your age. The thought soothed your nerves and scared you at the same time.
You shouldn’t look at him that way, you work for the royal family after all.
“Well then…” You broke the silence that fell upon the two of you, bringing him out of whatever stupor he was under. “Good night, Your Highness!” You bowed yet again, ready to continue your walk to the court.
Nonetheless, before you were out of hearing range, the prince spoke up, though his eyes weren’t trained on you, but on the pond in front of him.
“Your mother would be proud.”
The words made you halt and turn to the prince who was examining the water as if he was pondering how to describe the sight properly. The lanterns lit up the way of the footpath, and amongst them, one was shining directly onto him, and now with you in the shadows of a nearby tree, and him in the light, you wondered how the two of you from two different worlds could be having this conversation now.
“How… How do you know about my mother?” You blinked in confusion. You didn’t believe that he could have heard you before, but maybe he could.
“You are not the only one who likes to go to the pond late at night,” he replied without any shame or any cheekiness in his voice as he turned towards you, and even though you were further away than before, you could see the end of his lips curling upwards. Before you could grasp onto this moment though, the prince turned on his heel and walked towards the pavilion, walking away from you and from the light that was shining onto him.
Afterwards, it happened a few more times that you and prince Jinyoung met in the garden, around the pond. Truthfully, when you hadn’t been serving the Queen, and you had been working in the courtyard instead of the palace, you had come to the pond, but not so late at night. However, it felt good to take a bit of a walk somewhere aside from the walls within the palace, and the garden was truly mesmerising under the moonlight. So you could believe that you hadn’t crossed paths with the prince before because you had been walking around at different times.
On the other hand, despite knowing that you might meet him in the garden these days, you didn’t back away. After all, you weren’t doing anything shameful, and no one else was around, so rumours couldn’t fly around regarding you two. At least, you tried to tell yourself such reasonable words, but you were conflicted just how far this could go. A court lady and a prince talking late at night around the pond? No matter how many times you told yourself that this wasn’t wrong, you felt oddly at unease whenever you heard something crackling or murmurs rippling the night air - even from far away.
Yet, when you were in the act of talking to the prince, you couldn’t feel more at ease. Talking to him felt natural and he didn’t seem so distant while sharing stories with you even though you two came from very different backgrounds. Beside you, he seemed like a boy turning into a young man, knowing the responsibilities of his actions yet letting the childish side in him come to the surface when his duties didn’t call for something else.
Not to mention that it was, in a way, fluttering to be able to talk to him in the first place, let alone get to know him. You realised that he was both very different and not so different from you. He didn’t care about your rank, or that you might tell others about what he was telling you because he trusted you enough, and you trusted him the same. Maybe this was why he was open to talk about the disruptions in the kingdom, and how much the royal family would try to protect peace within its borders.
And maybe this was why he wanted to let you know about the secret you had suspected some time ago.
“The truth is, I don’t have magic,” he blurted out one time after silence had taken over the two of you.
You had been looking at the ripples across the pond, watching the many colours dance under its surface, hiding fish in all shapes and sizes, but your eyes found their way to the prince’s delicate features when he spoke up. He looked ahead of himself, his lips pressed into a thin line, and it wasn’t a different image from his usual self. However, instead of his hands resting in his lap, his hands were balled into fists, clutching a part of his snow-white robe.
“Why… why are you telling me this?”
You tried to keep your voice as gentle as possible because you had a feeling that this was a confession that must have been living in his heart for so long, trying to break out, but it was a caged creature - forced within the bars by his family more than himself. Even though not all of the members of a family had magic if one person possessed it since it wasn’t hereditary, it seemed that the royal family wanted it to be true since the King had magic in his veins, and princess Jinhee was said to possess it, too. However, you had a feeling that prince Jinyoung didn’t do so because you had never heard him use it whereas princess Jinhee was frequently praised for her skills.
What was more heartbreaking than this was the fact that the Queen tried so hard to hide his lack of magic - as you had experienced it on the training field when she had claimed that prince Jinyoung would take care of his wounds if he got hurt -, and maybe it was because she came from a different kingdom and thus didn’t have magic, but you had a feeling that she didn’t know the weight of her actions. She didn’t realise how much she was denying something that the prince didn’t wish to talk about to begin with.
You didn’t act like a fool, that’s why you didn’t ask him if it was true for you had a feeling for some time, and he seemed to notice that, too.
“Because I know you’ve figured it out yourself, and it feels good to tell someone else about it apart from my friends,” he explained as he averted his eyes from the scenery to you, and you gulped when you saw the hurt in his pitch-black orbs. Maybe it was that you mistook his pain for secrecy before, but now instead of a stern, out of reach, almighty prince, all you could see was a boy grieving something that had never been his, feeling guilty for something he had no control over and being vulnerable to someone who shouldn’t have mattered to him.
Yet, since he was willing to share his secret with you, you didn’t want to think about whether it was right or wrong. Instead, you wanted to be there for him, comforting him with words.
“You aren’t any less because you don’t have magic, Your Highness,” you whispered to him, afraid that your words might open up his wound instead of tending to it, but he didn’t seem to take it to heart.
“And you aren’t any less because you’ve grown up without a mother,” he added similarly quietly, and you felt your heart drop. You were about to say something, but then, you closed your mouth, pondering how to word this feeling. “See. It’s difficult to believe it no matter how many times others tell you.”
It was difficult, he was right, but you assumed that no one really knew how much the absence of your mother still impacted you, and the way you thought of yourself. He did, it seemed. He might have been reserved and didn’t like to pry in other’s business, but he was perceptive, even more than you would have thought so.
“How do you… Why does it feel like you know me so well, Your Highness?” You furrowed your eyebrows, not accusing, merely curious. Prince Jinyoung, as if he was waiting for you to confirm, let his lips curl a bit upwards before leaning a bit closer to you, as if he was telling a secret.
“I’ve told you. I’ve heard you talk to yourself at this pond. I just never wanted to interrupt you,” he explained matter-of-factly, but that was not enough for you. You didn’t know what took hold of you, but you were persistent, so you asked:
“So why tell me now?”
Prince Jinyoung looked back at the pond, then shrugged his shoulders. After some silence, you decided to drop the topic, and excused yourself to head to your room instead. Your heart was in mayhem already, you didn’t want to continue this dance that had started between you two because you were afraid that all it took was a few more turns to fall into his arms, to fall into him.
Thankfully, he didn’t hold you back, nor did he come with you, so you could walk to the courtyard, your heart still hammering in your chest. That's how you missed him saying to himself after you had left:
“Because you aren’t that unreachable now.”
The fact that you served the Queen directly meant that you knew more about the kingdom’s business affairs than before as the royal family including the King, the Queen, prince Jinyoung and princess Jinhee often attended business meetings with and without the royal council. It was said that it was, so that they knew exactly what was going on in the kingdom, and it was a merit for the children of the royal couple as well. Trading, business affairs and politics were fields that prince Jinyoung would be involved in as the future heir, and princess Jinhee would be considered a knowledgeable young lady if she knew of such topics, making her an even better wife candidate. When the council had a meeting, you were supposed to wait outside along with the other servants, but when it was just the royal family members, you could stay inside and possibly help the Queen to write letters and contracts for her or to read them for her.
The main issue these days was the unjustifiable attacks on a royal carriage sometime ago and a recent revolt near the borders - both lead to the assumption that rebels from the nearby kingdom were behind the attacks. It wasn’t very concerning for now, but the royal family wanted to be prepared for every scenario, and they tried to put out the fire before it could burn down their reputation. That’s how you found yourself accompanying the Queen and princess Jinhee to visit Naturalia that offered favourable trade in exchange for the princess marrying into the family.
You, a few other servants, soldiers from the royal army and two magic medics - including Byounggon whom you frequently saw around prince Jinyoung - accompanied you, so you ended up going in three different carriages, and the plan was to stay for two days and one night. You tried not to look around too much, but you hadn’t travelled outside of the kingdom before because you had started working at the palace from such a young age, and this particular kingdom boosted the magic of nature, so all kinds of surfaces were covered in colourful plants, vivid trees and rainbow-like herbs. You had read that there were people who regularly went to collect such magical plants, but the trading of their magic was limited to their kingdom only. Unless princess Jinhee would marry prince Jaehyeong.
However, your awe was cut short when upon the introductory tour around the palace, you were invited for some tea, and the servant - Hyeri - who tried the so-called immunity boosting drink to test it before the royal family would do so started gasping for air.
“What is it? What is the problem?” The Queen immediately rose to her feet, but you and another court lady were already there to hold onto the woman whose face turned purple. She looked like she was struggling to breathe, constantly hitting her chest with her balled fists and struggling to keep upright.
Bewildered, you found yourself hyperventilating for a moment, but then, you tried to remember what your father had always said. Do something about a problem first, and panic only if the consequences are not in your favour.
“I’ll call for the medics,” you suggested hastily, almost falling over your feet as you picked up the hem of your robe and ran out of the dining room to call for the two medics who were stationed outside in the hall. You quickly explained the situation, but they didn’t waste time either, they immediately came rushing with you. By that time, the woman was already on the floor, lying seemingly unconscious.
You felt your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, like a wild horse that didn’t know where to go in the unfamiliar woods. You couldn’t help but think of the worst case scenario, and you felt blood rushing to your head, making you dizzy. What if it was a trap? What if this was the plan of Naturalia’s royal family all along? What if your Queen was in danger? What if all of you were in danger?
Despite being wary and conscious of the many reasons behind this incident, prince Jaehyeong’s mother was seemingly shocked as well, trying to come up with different scenarios as to why it could happen - maybe the court lady was allergic to the ingredients in the tea -, but the Queen was suspicious, and didn’t let it slide even when the joined effort of the two medics and princess Jinhee’s magic helped Hyeri to regain consciousness.
“It was too strong of an effect for it to be accidental. If three of us needed to use magic to help my court lady, it was intended to kill one of us. Even if the incident was out of your control, it is not safe for us to stay here,” the Queen concluded rather indignantly, and at least the other royal family members didn’t protest, and reassured her that they would do everything in their power to get to the bottom of this case.
The ride back to the palace was a tense one because it meant that even if the Naturalia royal family didn’t want to kill the Queen or the princess, someone in their royal court would want to do so, someone who had the power to get inside their walls and put some kind of poison in the tea. They should have known that such royalty didn’t just drink or eat before testing it out with their servants, so maybe it was a kind of warning. First the carriage incident, then the rebels, now this… Was it all because the two kingdoms were to be united by the prospectus wedding? Did a group of citizens from the other kingdom have anything against your Queen?
You kept thinking about the what ifs, signs you should have seen, but you still couldn’t rack your head around what had just happened. Upon your arrival back at the palace, the Queen asked you to accompany the startled Hyeri to her room instead of walking her back to her chambers since she had other servants who could help her now. You obeyed her, but your voice was shaky as you responded to her, and your hand trembled when you reached out to hold onto the court lady. It could have been you as well, you could have died that day…
“It’s all okay. You’re safe now,” you mumbled to Hyeri nevertheless, trying to soothe her nerves, but you could still see how frazzled she was. Even when you left her after she had thanked you for your assistance and denied that she needed anything else, you could clearly see how terrified she was. You told her that she shouldn’t hesitate to call for you if she changed her mind and needed anything. Afterwards, you left her behind and started aimlessly walking around the court until your legs didn’t feel wobbly anymore. You needed time and some fresh air to clear your mind.
You were just about to head to the court ladies’ house when you walked into prince Jinyoung who looked just as shaken up as you deemed that you had been some time ago. His usually delicate locks sat on top of his head messily as if he had been running his hand through his hair more often than it was necessary, his jet-black eyes were painted with agony, his facial expression alarmed and his voice shaky when he spoke up.
“Are you… alright?” His words came out raspy, as if he was still trying to catch his breath. Did he come to the court ladies’ area after hearing the news? Why did he seem so uncharacteristically concerned? The usually stern and reserved prince didn’t usually meddle with the servants’ business as you had seen. He was on good terms with his soldier friend, Seunghun, and one of the magical medics, Byounggon, but he usually didn’t worry about the court ladies’ safety. Some said that it was because he didn’t want to be swept up in rumours while you deemed that it was only natural since he was royalty, and of the obedient type.
You bobbed your head, though you were at a loss for words seeing him in this state.
“Are you sure you don’t need more medical assistance?” The prince continued, taking a step closer to you as if to examine if you had visible injuries. However, the way he worded himself sent waves of warmth through your body.
“Oh, it was not me who drank the tea. It was court lady Kim,” you justified to the prince whose lips formed a surprised ‘O’ in return. Other than that, he didn’t seem taken aback, more like a bit coy, but his features softened as if he had been relieved by your answer.
“Oh… is she alright, too?”
“Yes, I helped to accompany her back to her room,” you explained, trying to keep the shaking out of your voice. You had never thought before that being in the court could mean that you were in direct danger because you weren’t a soldier or a bodyguard, but it seemed that there were multiple ways one could weaken a King on the throne.
You heard a door opening and carefree chatter coming out of a house nearby, so instinctively, you grabbed the prince’s robe and pulled him to the wall of the nearest house, into the shadows. You couldn’t really tell what took hold of you, but it felt oddly wrong to be so out in the open with just the prince. It was different in the garden when there were just the two of you. It was like your little hideout, an island of solace, a place of security, however now, you felt like you were stripped bare.
Prince Jinyoung’s eyes widened in surprise at first, but he must have guessed your reason for bringing him with you out of the public eye because he didn’t protest, nor did he ask why you had acted this way. Instead, he peeked out from behind the wall, then back at you.
“And you? Are you alright?” He asked as if he had just continued from where he had left off. “This must have shaken you up.”
The way his words were so gentle, so caring made you feel things that you shouldn’t have. If the prince was the moon that lit the way for the people of the kingdom, the light in the darkness, the hope in the unfamiliar, you would be the sun that shone only during daytime, shining bright until night came, and the moon took its place. You two weren’t supposed to encounter each other, let alone seek out time to see each other.
He shouldn’t have cared about you, and you shouldn’t have let him, but still… You couldn’t lie straight to his face.
“I am… I just…” You wanted to say so much, yet the words died on the tip of your tongue. Your heart was way heavy, the flashbacks of the scene in the dining room even heavier, and you felt a drop of tear sliding down your cheeks as you were trying to pull yourself together. You had to stay strong, you couldn’t show him vulnerability. He couldn’t care about your vulnerability. “I am sorry, Your Highness. I do not want to bother you anymore. Please, go on your way,” you said instead, keeping your eyes down as you bowed.
You wanted him to go away, to stop caring, to stop looking at you, but he didn’t budge, and it was a rule that you could straighten up only when a royalty took the first step. However, he didn’t do so, instead, he tapped your shoulder, and helped you straighten up.
“You don’t bother me at all,” he mumbled like a secret, a feeble attempt at diminishing the gap between you two that should have always mattered, but he crossed it as if he didn’t see it at all.
And you, you weren’t strong enough to push him away. Not that day, not in the comforting shadows under the faint moonlight, not out of the public eye when he looked at you as if he was ready to give you the world. The hand that had rested on your shoulder before now slid to your back as he embraced you, holding you strong, holding you steady
The walls crumbled down, the shield of your heart taken away, your rational thoughts tossed aside. Now, there was only his comforting touch that put out even the tiniest flicker of resistance within you, and for a moment, you believed that this could be your reality, your present and future, and your forever.
After the incident, the palace was in uproar. They couldn’t let it slide as promised, and so the investigation started to get to the bottom of this. The royal family of Naturalia was helpful though, and soon enough, they found a group of rebels who didn’t want your kingdom to be in alliance, let alone in union with their kingdom because of the special magical plants they possessed. They deemed that it was their gift and their gift only. It made sense why the attack on the carriage had happened when a letter had been delivered to Naturalia, then around the borders when news had gotten around that a marriage deal had been proposed to princess Jinhee, then when the Queen and the princess had actually gone to visit the other kingdom.
They didn’t find all of the rebels though, and there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t attack again no matter the fact that peace was in both parties’ favour. So for now, the marriage proposal was put on hold, and instead, your kingdom tried to strengthen its ties with other alliances. After the passing of the King in Elementalia - the land of elemental magic where people could possess the ability to control fire, earth, water and air -, his rather young heir took place, but it meant that marrying one of their princesses off to another kingdom would secure their power with a boy king on the throne.
That’s how you found yourself in the room with the Queen, prince Jinyoung and other servants, listening to their conversation about prince Jinyoung marrying the princess in question.
“They are in a tight spot, and we are in need of securing our safety. Who knows when those rebels would attack us again? It is best if we do not push your sister’s marriage with prince Jaehyeong now, but rather, we reassure them that we will not make moves towards their kingdom. The best way to do that is to shift their attention to our other affairs… such as your possible marriage with the princess from Elementalia,” the Queen concluded confidently, but you could hear the indignation in her voice. Seeing one of her court ladies almost getting poisoned took a toll on her as it did on all of you. One of her court ladies had even resigned, feeling like her safety was threatened.
Needless to say, prince Jinyoung was also aware of the tension in the kingdom, and while you had only met him once since that embrace, he had seemed rather troubled then and now as well.
“And princess Yunkyeong is said to be a very intelligent, obedient young lady. You might not be interested in her now, but at least, give her a chance. Let us arrange a meeting with her, and see how you feel about her being your wife. I will not force you to make any rash decisions, but we-”
“We need this marriage deal now to reassure our people that our kingdom isn’t threatened. I know, Mother,” the prince cut her off, his voice void of any emotions. His face was also void of any emotions, save for the slight wrinkles forming on his forehead.
You wished you could do anything to help this situation, but in cases like this, your hard work didn’t mean anything. These affairs were bigger than you, bigger than anyone in the royal court. Plus, the Queen was right. Despite not talking explicitly about what had happened in both the carriage and the tea incident, word had gotten out, especially with the rebels making a ruckus around the border. The people were confused and scared, questioning what the royal family’s next move might be. It was best to reassure them with such prosperous news rather than talk about any uncertainty.
“I will come back when you feel ready to give me your answer,” the Queen suggested as she rose from her seat, and so the servants lined up behind her. As you got in line, you made the mistake of looking at the prince, and he looked back at you, though you couldn’t exactly say you knew exactly what he was feeling. However, a shadow of sorrow passed through his features, but you didn’t know what it was for. Or rather, you didn’t want to know.
So you kept your eyes on the ground even after straightening your back from bowing at the prince, and didn’t look back.
You purposefully didn’t go to the garden afterwards. You could have said that you didn’t have time or you were too troubled by the recent events, but the truth is, you merely wanted to avoid meeting the prince. If you hadn’t had conscience before, now you would have felt like you had betrayed the Queen and all that she had worked so hard for if you had kept up your encounters with prince Jinyoung, and the people had gotten to know about it. Such news might even prompt princess Yunkyeong and her family to step back from their marriage proposal. After all, a prince and a court lady should never meet under private circumstances, let alone embrace in the shadows.
Now more than ever, you regretted letting prince Jinyoung console you in your state, you should have known that it would lead to nothing good. You should have stayed strong, you should have never shed tears in front of the prince. On the other hand, you knew, you knew very well with prince Jinyoung’s personality that he wouldn’t have felt compelled to embrace you even if you had been crying. He had done it because he had wanted to, but this thought only weighed down on you even more. What were you two doing anyway? Even if you had moments when you could have believed that your feelings would be reciprocated, the question wasn’t whether they would be reciprocated, but just how wrong it would be if they were reciprocated? You couldn’t fall in love with a prince.
Nonetheless, it was too late. You felt that bittersweet tug whenever you walked to your room straight after finishing your duties for the day without wandering around in the garden, you felt a wave of childish thrill go through your body whenever you caught sight of similarly pitch-black locks as the prince had - though you knew that it couldn’t be the prince for the royal family always wore white and the court members always wore burgundy-black -, and you felt your heart yearning for him, like a person coming up for air after being underwater for too long.
No matter how many times you tried to tell yourself that you could only make things worse if you felt everything so deeply, so grandly, your heart was at war with your brain, and it seemed that your brain was at defeat. Despite everything, you longed for what you had, for what you could have and for what you would never have with prince Jinyoung.
It didn’t make things any easier that you were there when the prince gave his answer to the Queen - that he would meet the princess in person -, you were there when they were arranging for the arrival of princess Yunkyeong and the Queen of Elementalia, and you were there when they arrived. You even needed to be the one to notify the prince that they arrived, and you felt a lump forming in your throat as you walked closer and closer to the prince’s chamber. You felt like your legs were made of steel, your limbs numb and your heartbeat as erratic as it could be.
Even though you had never been to the prince’s chamber, you knew where it was for it was the room closest to the Queen’s own chamber. Knocking on its door made you think of scenarios where you could do the same, but you quickly got rid of all of these silly fantasies. After all, they were nothing more than fantasies, irrational wishes and ultimately bullets through your already fragile heart.
When the prince answered, you opened the door to his chamber, and you made your way inside, bowing immediately before letting him know about why you were there. You could see that prince Jinyoung was both surprised and reassured by your presence, but he pursed his lips into a thin line when you explained the reason behind your visit.
“What do you think about this marriage?” The prince asked abruptly, and for a moment, you felt like icy thorns were invading your throat, making it impossible to speak, gulp or even breathe. Why did he have to make this even more difficult?
Deep inside, your rational side managed to break free from all the fantasies, and reminded you that you would only make things worse if you acted as if you were affected by the possibility of prince Jinyoung marrying a princess. As he should have after all. So you pulled yourself together, and tried to word yourself very diplomatically.
“I believe it is a very beneficial one, and princess Yunkyeong is said to be a lovely young lady as well, Your Highness,” you reasoned, keeping your voice steady. You even managed to keep eye-contact with him, and you saw confusion flash across his features. He seemed weary, someone who hadn’t been sleeping well because of his tormenting thoughts, and you wished to soothe the wrinkles on his forehead, to feel the warmth of his touch again, and to hold his hand to reassure him that everything would be alright, but you knew it was all just wishful thinking. It was all just a lie.
The prince took a few steps closer to you and you took a few back because you didn’t know what he was about to do without saying a word. Your back almost touched the door, and in a fraction of fragile seconds, he closed the said door, and turned back to you. This way, no one in the corridor could see you or listen to you two.
“Is that what you honestly think?”
His gaze was piercing, almost burning, and it felt like he could see right through you. His usually warm orbs reflected sadness, sorrow and bitterness - something that you saw reflected in your own ones recently. Seeing him in this state made you feel even worse for lying to him, but you had to. Words were your only defence now.
“Yes, Your Highness. I wish nothing but the best for you.”
“Do you believe it would be the best for me if you kept this up, and I would lose you in the meantime?” He kept going on strong, almost demanding, but you could detect the thorn in his words, you could detect his fear. Even though he wasn’t as close to you as he had been when he had embraced you in the shadows, you still felt like he was about to break down your walls. You couldn’t let that happen. Not this time.
“I do not believe that my presence should matter that much, and besides, we should hurry to-” You tried to direct the conversation back to the way it had started, but the prince cut you off, and the sincerity, the pain and the same longing you felt laced his words, and you were rendered speechless.
“It does matter that much even if you might not think so. So just once, can’t you be honest with me? Can’t you tell me what you really feel?”
Amongst many, there was one thing about prince Jinyoung that made him a likely successful heir to the throne: no matter what he said, he could make others believe it, no room for doubts. His voice was always confident, no cracks or wavers, but now, his voice shook. It shook like a man’s during prayers, during struggle and during darkness. As if he was desperate.
You physically ached to give him the answer he wanted, but you were already hurting so much, so you made a promise to yourself that no matter how and when you would meet him again, you wouldn’t let it continue the same way as it had done before. The sooner you could put an end to it, the less it would hurt.
Or so you assumed.
“I do not understand what you intend to say with it, Your Highness, but my duties lie with the Queen, and I always, always put her commands first,” you emphasised sternly, masking your tone in a coldness that you had never found within you before. “So if you could follow me now, that would make my job easier,” you added, strictly drawing the line between you two, and before waiting for his answer like you should have according to the etiquette, you walked around him, opened the door and walked out.
You expected him to follow you, and he did, but you were thankful that he didn’t walk beside you because you had to bite your cheek to keep your tears from flowing. It hurt for you to be so rigid to him, but that was the only way you could put a distance between you two.
So why did it hurt so much? Why did it pain you more to lie to him than if you had just been honest with him? If this was love, why did it hurt so bloody much?
It turned out that princess Yunkyeong was indeed a lovely young lady, and seeing her interact with the prince made you feel undeniably bitter because she was so bright, so considerate and so patient, you wished you could have turned back time to never make him feel anything because you knew why he was so distant. Even though he was trying not to appear stern, you could see the way his facial expressions changed in a fraction of a second when he turned away from her. You knew that the reason was you.
Nonetheless, you hoped that he wouldn’t cling onto the foolish hope of you two ever having your own happy ending because just as much as you would have liked to delude yourself into thinking that you could have anything together, it would be simply impossible as long as you were a servant and he was a prince. Which meant that you could never do so.
So when you heard after the princess’ visit that the prince had given in to the marriage, you should have felt relieved, yet you would be lying if you said that you were. After all, it would mean that you would see the princess around all the time because she would move into the palace after the wedding, and though the pain might numb after a while, her presence would always remind you of what you could have had if it had been for different circumstances.
You tried not to think about it, you really tried, but there was a pang in your chest whenever you and prince Jinyoung were in the same room when he met up with the Queen, and despite not catching each other’s eyes, your heart couldn’t sit still. The same went when you walked by him in the corridor, just one look at him and the fact that you could never be close again almost felt like the consequences of getting burnt. You were too close to the fire, but you were tempted, so you touched the flames, and now you were hurt, yet still yearning to do it again. Now you understood the expression that you would walk through fire for someone, you really did.
You were almost glad that the Festival of Day and Light happened a few days before the wedding because you could get time off to visit back home, to visit the festival because the Queen was preoccupied with the wedding arrangements, and hence, she would stay inside her chamber for most of the day.
It was the usual yearly festival for the fall equinox, and when you had been younger, you had been ecstatic to spend this day with your mother, to commemorate the gift of light, and to light a candle for all your loved ones, wishing them a bright year. There were all kinds of games for kids, stalls of delicacies lining up on the main market square, people lighting candles and placing them on the riverside that crossed the capital of the kingdom, and white or yellow decorations in the shape of stars, the Sun and the Moon.
Despite the usual joyous atmosphere of the celebration, ever since your mother had died, you hadn’t gone out to celebrate it as your father wasn’t the kind to believe in such things. So this year as well, you went home for the day, had a meal together with your father, helped him around the house, talked about everything that came to mind, then headed back to the palace later at night. Yet, there was no way you would be able to go around the celebrations on the main market square, so you mindlessly walked through it.
To be precise, you wanted to, but an elderly woman with an impossibly wide smile shoved a candle into your hand, and looking down at it, you didn’t have the heart to not light it up. So you walked to the edge of the river, a less crowded part of it, and crouched down to touch your candle to the wick of another one, watching as the flame moved from one candle to the other.
Then, you placed yours on the ground, closed your eyes and wished for your father’s health, your mother’s comfort in the spirit realm, the court ladies’ perseverance, the Queen’s well-being and even for prince Jinyoung’s happiness. You really wished nothing but the best for him even if you weren’t a part of it.
When you opened your eyes to the world around you and straightened up, you didn’t expect to find a familiar pair of jet-black eyes staring back at you. Your heart and mind didn’t even have time to protest, the words already rolled off your tongue.
“Your Highness,” you greeted him with your mouth slightly agape, then pulled yourself together for a proper bow. He placed his index finger on his lips - just like the time he had picked up the hairpin for you -, and the déjavu of the whole situation sent a chill down your spine.
He indeed looked like he didn’t want to be seen as he didn’t wear his trademark white robe, but a burgundy-black one with a hood that now covered most of his face, but you could never mistake his orbs for anyone else’s. You had stared into them, you had gazed at them and you had daydreamed about them enough times to be able to recognise them anywhere.
“What are you doing here?” You inquired quietly. It wasn’t unheard of that the royal family members went out for such celebrations, but then they walked into the sea of people in their usual clothes with bodyguards around them. This time, the prince seemed to be alone, and you expected him the least out of anyone since his wedding was just around the corner.
“I’ve never had the opportunity to light a candle. I’ve gotten Seunghun’s clothes, so that I could come here in peace, and then I saw you here…” He trailed off by the end as if he wasn’t sure that he should have said so much, but you could understand him. Especially after how you had lied to him last time.
“Should you be here so close to your wedding?”
Your question might have been assumed to be laced with malice, but you didn’t ask about it out of spite. You were concerned about him, that’s all. You knew how fussy the Queen was about the whole wedding, and it took a toll on prince Jinyoung (or was it that he still didn’t let go of you?). The last thing you had expected from him these days was to see him at the festival.
“Probably not,” he replied, and despite the tense question, the corner of his lips curled upwards, a bit childish and a bit bashful. Not the expression you had expected to see on him given his general state nowadays.
However, the prince didn’t seem guilty now, but there was definitely melancholy in his features. His lips couldn’t bloom into a full smile, his eyes weren’t twinkling, and his limbs were all tensed up as if he was ready to bolt anytime. Maybe he really was, seeing how he covered himself up.
Your heart ached for him, for all the possibilities that were crushed by the sole difference between your ranks, and for all those endless fantasies he had been a part of, ones that popped into your mind whenever you let your mind wander off, whenever you caught sight of him at the palace, and whenever you walked by the pond in the garden. Even though the latter had become a place of solitude, a safe haven for you, now it was just another thing that reminded you of your pain. The wound was there, and it was still open, it was still bleeding, no wonder it was difficult to wait out the time it would start to heal.
And in a way, something in your gut told you that he was the same. His following words proved it, too.
“But I’ve wanted to wish for someone’s bright future even if I won’t be a part of it,” prince Jinyoung suddenly broke the silence, his voice coming out raspy. He crouched down to light his own candle as he continued, but you were glad that he couldn’t see your face because his words struck you to your very core. “I felt like I wasn’t supposed to tell her after what we’ve been through and that she wouldn’t let me tell her how I wish the best for her, so I came here instead. I was hoping that my wish would somehow be carried forward.”
The more he talked, the more certain you were that he was talking about you, and instinctively, tears began to spill. You tried to hold them back, but they found their way to the surface, and all you could do was to sob silently, hoping that prince Jinyoung would look at his candle for a long enough time, long enough for your heart to prepare itself for a response, for your heart to prepare itself for a possible goodbye.
You reached to wipe the tears off your face, but as the prince straightened his back, that’s exactly what he caught you doing, so there was no turning back. You let your sobs reverberate through your body, your words following the rhythm of your tears like raindrops on a windowsill.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled through tears, not being able to look him in the eye. So you just stared at your shoes instead while your tears dropped to the ground one after another. Drip… drop… drip… drop… “I thought that being harsh would be the only way I could make it hurt less, but it still hurts so much.”
“I know. I don’t blame you,” came the answer almost immediately, and when you looked at prince Jinyoung through the waterfall of your tears, you saw the same kind of longing that you dressed your features in these days. If anything, that just made you feel worse. Why couldn’t you be as heartless as last time?
You sobbed quietly, hoping not to attract unnecessary attention, but this part of the riverside was pretty quiet, and the stillness of it all magnified the loudness of your beating heart. You felt like it would break through your ribcage to find the prince’s own heart because it was what it sought after. Too bad that you couldn’t listen to your heart now…
“I’m sorry, too,” prince Jinyoung added, his voice cracking by the end.
You knew what was to come even before it happened, but as opposed to last time, you didn’t feel warmth, you didn’t feel comfort. When the prince embraced you, there was pain; because when you share the same kind of pain with someone, your pain is amplified by the other’s pain. It was a gawking, raw, soul crashing kind of ache, one that you felt in your bones, in your veins and in your heart. You couldn’t even do anything about it, your arms just hung idly by the prince’s body, your tears spilling endlessly, words abandoning you and sobs scratching your throat instead.
You couldn’t tell how much time had passed by when the prince let go of you, but you had a feeling that it was for good. When he squeezed your hand gently, you could feel the hesitation only for a short moment, and then, he slowly slipped through your fingers, all of your remaining hope leaving with him.
The walls that he had broken down now laid at your feet, lifeless and in multiple, messy pieces.
You somehow pushed through the wedding, but afterwards, you kept coming down with something, and even Byounggon’s healing and the medics’ tips couldn’t help because it just kept coming back, so the Queen granted you indefinite leave to go back home and to recharge yourself.
The truth is, once you were off the palace grounds, you got better, and you had a feeling why. On top of that, your father was also feeling poorly, so you were glad that you could be at home during this time. The truth is, ever since you had left for the palace 16 years ago, you hadn’t spent more than a week straight at home, so now that you were there, you realised just how much time had passed by, just how lonely your father must have been, how worn out your old shoes had been, and how loaded all your bookshelves were.
You made yourself busy in and around the house, cleaning up, buying new pillows for yourself and new clothes for your father (it seemed that he didn’t like spending money on himself, rather on books), picking up some herbs for your father from the nearby medics - from two young men, Hyunsuk and Yonghee, who were said to be good friends -, cooking, sewing clothes that were torn, reading the books you had not yet read from the shelves, and daydreaming about how you would take prince Jinyoung to your home, how you would lead him around the house and how you would introduce him to your father… if the circumstances had been different, and he hadn’t been a prince married to a princess.
The news of the royal family reached your neighbourhood as well, so you knew that the prince was on a trip to Elementalia with his wife, and maybe that’s what prompted you to go back to the palace then to formally hand in your written resignation.
The Queen didn’t seem taken aback by your decision, in fact, she rose from her usual sitting position, put her hand on your trembling ones, and gave you an almost motherly smile.
“Thank you so much for your service in the past 16 years. Your mother would be exceptionally proud of you. I wish nothing but the best for you and your father,” she said as she sent you on your way, and when you walked out of her chamber and passed by prince Jinyoung’s own chamber, you knew that it was for the best. Maybe some would say that you ran away from him, but you knew that you couldn’t have run away from the pain even if you had tried. So you had tried to give yourself space and time to decide what would be the best for you, and both your body and your heart thanked you for this decision.
You couldn’t help a teardrop roll down your cheeks though as you stepped through the gates - probably for the very last time -, flashbacks washed into a wheel of events; so much laughter, so much learning, so much love and so much pain. Like the different colours of a rainbow, all of these were needed to make you who you were today, and even though you didn’t believe in forever anymore, you would always, truly, deeply wish for nothing but the best for prince Jinyoung. He had given you so much care and affection, and this was the only way you could repay him.
A/N: I managed to finish writing and proofreading this story in time for the comeback, but I didn't think that it would top all the pain that the comeback might cause. Sorry for that, but I hope that you enjoyed the angst of it!
How do you like the comeback, the MV and the album? Do you have a favourite song? I love suffering, and I love emotional MVs, but the MV and the whole album were on another level in the best way possible. I think the boys outdid themselves again, and I'm super proud of them!
All in all, I hope you enjoyed the story! Thank you so much for reading it! ❤️
If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for CIX or for other bands, consider signing up for my taglist here.
On top of that, keep your eyes out for the other boys' stories set in this universe! 😉
#cix#jinyoung#cix imagines#cix scenarios#cix x reader#cix x you#jinyoung scenarios#jinyoung imagines#jinyoung x reader#jinyoung x you#bae jinyoung scenarios#bae jinyoung imagines#bae jinyoung x reader#bae jinyoung x you
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REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!
Books I’ve read so far in 2023!
Friend me on Goodreads here to follow my more up to date reading journey for the year!
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247. Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Have you ever finished a book and just sat there in awe, thinking about all of the ways that it broke your heart? This was me with HELLO BEAUTIFUL. Not to be punny, but this book was beautiful. Napolitano's novel was heartbreaking, memorable, destructive, and full of moments that had me outright crying.
We follow a family who essentially adopts a man (who marries into the family) who didn't have much of a family presence growing up due to a tragedy in his childhood. The journey we take over the decades as this family evolves, separates, and comes to terms with who they are is a heavy one, but also eye-opening. We see the cycle of emotional abuse and its consequences; the expectations placed on children to be better than their parents and its sometimes detrimental effects; and the power of love that comes from the most unexpected places.
This is a complex story of family and mental health. It tackles some topics that are often shied from in society, and the consequences of decisions that send ripples through time. There were characters I hated, others I loved, and others I truly hoped would find their happiness.
This was one of my favourites of the year, hands down. The tears on my face as the ending drew closer is proof that this book destroyed me and honestly, I'm grateful I was able to experience that because I normally don't pick up books like this one.
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248. Mistletoe and Mishigas by M.A. Wardell--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Okay, I'm not a huge fan of Holiday books because I find the whole theme kind of cringe and meh LOL, but I devoured the shit out of this book. MISTLETOE & MISHIGAS was adorable af and I couldn't stop reading it.
I loved the grouchy MC and the sugary sweet MC. I loved that one kept putting his foot in his mouth, and the other started to stand up for himself. I loved their dynamic and how they brought each others' best selves out. The grouchy MC's family was a delight and they were HILARIOUS.
Was this book super deep? At times. It dealt with the grouchy MC's PTSD and his fear of finding love again because of his grief and past experiences, and it also dealt with the sunshine MC's homophobic family and their abandonment. These parts were powerful and I liked that the two of them were able to work through or with their traumatic experiences.
Another thing I don't like about Holiday books is that because they're set in such a tight timeline, we often get things at a sped-up rate. In the case of this adorable book, we get an almost insta-lovey relationship that gets steamy hella fast (which I'm fine with, but I did giggle at that first 'baby' that hit at a questionable time), and a distorted sense of time to be falling all the way to the L word because truly, has enough time passed for this word to be coming into play? But the Holiday timeline will always be an escalator for love because time is of the essence.
Beyond that, this was ridiculously adorable and like the perfect shot of cuteness to get you into the Holiday spirit. I love these two messy men and that they were in their 30s!!!! You know how hard it is to find a cute book where the characters aren't in uni or in their 20s? It was weirdly refreshing (mainly because I am in my mid-thirties.)
Will try the first book in the series at some point in my life!
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249. Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree--⭐️⭐️⭐️
I'm convinced these books aren't for me. I read them both and while I was entertained for a bit, I got to the point where I just wanted the story to end. I did love the bookselling theme and how the MC tried her best to help the bookstore and its owner, but that was about all I really cared for in this book.
Oh, and seeing the MC fall into books that way so many of us do.
But while I can see why so many enjoy these cozy mystery books, I'm just missing that sense of "why am I reading this?"
I think I liked this one more than the first one, but to be completely honest, I'm not even 100% sure I remember what happened LOL.
Three stars for the bookselling and book reading portions, the rest I just...yeah. I don't think I'll be trying the next book--it all depends on when it comes out lol
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250. The New Guy by Sarina Bowen--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I'm so happy to be back in the world of Sarina Bowen. I saw this book on a friend's book haul and I needed it immediately, so I got my excited hands on it and devoured it. I missed reading the fun world of hockey with queer men. Sigh, I will admit that this has now sent me down that same black hole spiral that I experience at least once every year.
We get two perspectives: a single and widowed dad and a hockey player who is struggling to find a permanent home since he has been traded one too many times. As these two characters fight against their growing attraction to each other, we get to see some great character growth and truths that really bring too much to light.
I loved this book because of the tropes presented, but also because these two men experience so many different emotions together that you can't help but hope that they get to have their HEA. There's so much angst and sexy times, that it was hard to put the book down. But besides that obvious spicy side, I loved the side relationships and how the characters remembered to keep their heads on while either working or playing their sport. It's one of the things I love that authors sometimes do--that no matter what the characters are experiencing, it doesn't affect the core thing they love to do.
Also, the side characters were great and I loved all of them--especially the single dad MC's daughter and how big her personality was.
This was a lot of fun and I really need to check out the next book!
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251. Enchanted to Meet You by Meg Cabot--⭐️⭐️⭐️
In rating this a three star, I'm realizing how my rating system is so skewed. I'm rating this three stars because it was fun, but it wasn't the best thing I've ever read. It was very insta-romance and kind of over the top. But I'm going to be super honest: When it comes to Meg Cabot, I expect nothing less and I usually have a great time.
So, despite its imperfections, ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU was a lot of fun. There was a cheesy romance, a badass but kind MC, and a somewhat unbelievable menace that gave me strong THE CRAFT vibes. I wish I had read this in October because it would have been perfect.
I thought the cast of characters were sweet and the love interest (second MC) sounded fine af. There's a specific description of him during a spicy scene that had me rewinding the audiobook just to hear it again. Also, that's another thing! While it wasn't overly described, the fading to black wasn't as obvious as Cabot's previous series.
Also, hello some queer rep in this one! And a beautiful plus-size MC! Love.
I hope that this series doesn't go the way of her last one, which got steadily worse. I will hold out hope and will definitely be picking up the sequel.
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252. Power Plays & Straight A's by Eden Finley & Saxon James--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Re-read in November 2023
The happiness and giddiness I felt when I fell into this world again. I love these characters and how they communicate and how they are together. Reading this again felt like the first time, because I had forgotten so much of what had happened and I got to experience it all again :')
I like that these characters are imperfect and how they work together. One is socially awkward and the other is basically the king of hockey on campus. They are an interesting pair that somehow work and have the cutest and spiciest moments.
I love these boys and I can't wait to re-read this book again in a few years LOL.
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253. It Found Us by Lindsay Currie--⭐️⭐️⭐️
This was a fun and spooky mystery! I think the cover is creepier than the story itself, but it definitely had some moment where I know a middle school reader will have a few sleepless nights.
I loved the concept of this young MC being a detective because of how many other potential mysteries she could solve, especially now that she has her friend and brother helping her. I wouldn't say no to a sequel with more paranormal happenings in this small town--kind of gave me CITY OF GHOSTS vibes and I'm not mad at it.
I think I'm not rating this higher because while I was entertained, it didn't blow my mind. It was an enjoyable experience, however, and I'm definitely intrigued. I liked the character growth and the teamwork that happened--especially since I know younger readers who might pick this up might benefit from seeing healthy sibling relationships like the one in this book.
I do recommend this for anyone looking for a spooky middle grade novel that won't make them too scared to turn the lights off, but might creep them out with the stretched out smiles we sometimes hear about in IT FOUND US.
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254. Just A Bit Captivating by Alessandra Hazard--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I bow down to Alessandra Hazard for writing 14 books (so far) in this series and making me love most of them. JUST A BIT CAPTIVATED is her latest and the way I KEPT checking to see the release date...phew. When I pick up one of these books (to read for the first time, or re-read), I KNOW I'm going to be...captivated.
This was another twisted romance and listen, I am TRASH for these books. Whereas in other books I'd be giving the storyline a massive side eye, something about Hazard's over the top situations are so ridiculously addicting and weirdly endearing? I want to root for both characters, even though one of them is a massive asshole. But listen, it's fiction--romance red flags are not real life goals, okay?
I highly recommend reading this series if you want stories that captivate you and make you question your morals on occasion (but just for the sake of the books.)
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255. The Hundred Years' War on Palestine by Rashid Khalidi--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I will pre-empt my review by stating that the reason why I'm giving this four stars instead of five is because I'm not much of a history lover, so this was a bit of a heavy read in terms of textual information and my brain's inability to fully engage in historical nonfiction. Other than that, this book was incredibly informative.
I've been trying to stay informed and have been trying my best to show my support in the best ways I can, but I find that reading up on the history of the beautiful Palestine and how it has been besieged for over a century is incredibly important. I learned a lot through this text and I definitely believe that it should be on everyone's TBR. There were definitely some aspects I wish we learned more about in this one (I have learned about missing information through my own research and watching videos of those who are hella informed). But I also know that this text is a bit older and a lot of newer information has most likely come to light since its publication.
Important, powerful, and eye-opening, Rashid Khalidi's The Hundred Years' War on Palestine is a must-read.
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256. Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I'm surprised it took me this long to read the heartbreaking book that is GIOVANNI'S ROOM. I've read various Gay literary fiction titles and while I always enjoy the journey, I'm always heartbroken or feeling some intense emotion by the end. Baldwin's novel didn't spare me from this experience.
GIOVANNI'S ROOM is messy, but in the most tragic way possible. This is a novel about a man who experiences one of the biggest emotions a human could experience, but both the time, his life experiences, and the expectations of what it means to be a "man" got in the way of him taking that leap into the abandonment of love. By the end, I couldn't help but cry for him, but also cry for Giovanni and the what could be's that mirror the life these two men lived on the pages of Baldwin's masterpiece.
The final line of this book will forever haunt me and if you've read this book, you know that that imagery not only will haunt the character forever, but also the reader.
Also, if you haven't done so--I highly recommend reading SWIMMING IN THE DARK because this felt very much like a reversal of characters if it was a retelling of GIOVANNI'S ROOM. Both are beautiful and both will absolutely break you/make you think about those who shared these characters' fates in real life.
I took a star away because the writing sometimes felt a little dry, BUT with that being said, I listened to the audiobook and the enunciation and reading of the narrator was GORGEOUS.
I'm glad I finally experienced this gorgeous and messy book. Also, I both wanted Giovanni to get therapy and to also be given the love he always craved and lost. My God, my heart cries for Giovanni.
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Have you read any of these books? Let me know your thoughts!
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Happy reading!
#Review#Reviews#Book Reviews#on books#on reading#book blog#book blogger#Features#book list#booklr#bookworm#bookaholic#long text post#2023#book review#books#read#reading#bookish#books of tumblr#readers of tumblr#books and reading#my writing#my opinion
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Do you know of any good fics with bedside vigils? Thank you. :)
You’ll be wanting sick fics for this. Here are some for you...
Angelic Illness by aewrose (G)
Aziraphale has worryingly keeled over in the bookshop, and is inexplicably ill for some reason. Crowley is worried--and isn't the best healer--so it's time to find out if human methods of healing will work on heavenly corporations.
Mod note: Looks like this one was deleted by the author, sorry folks!
Dangerous Disruption by EdosianOrchids901 (T)
An exorcism disrupts the connection between Crowley’s corporation and True Form. He falls ill and collapses, unable to take care of himself. It’s up to Aziraphale to nurse him back to health—the human way.
Ex Infirmitas, Sinceritas by charliebrown1234 (T)
"It’s been seven days since the Apocalypse that wasn’t, and Aziraphale’s had a low grade fever for the past three of them. Angels can’t truly be ‘sick’ in the human sense of the word, but nevertheless he finds himself achy, foggy, and generally under the weather."
It's a sick fic! Complete with tender bath scenes, love confessions, and readings of Winnie-the-Pooh.
Let Me Care For You by Astieria_Wandering (G)
Crowley wakes up disoriented, hungover, and with a mysteriously sore throat. Not wanting to worry Aziraphale he decides to take care of it on his own. That's just the way it has always been and he doesn't think one messed up apocalypse is going to change that.
Aziraphale, is worried, he's never seen the demon get sick, he didn't know occult beings could get sick but he wants to be there for his oldest friend. They're on their own side now and he wants to show the demon the care he knows he deserves.
This is my first fic and its chocked full of love, fluff, some light angst (I'm a sucker for nightmares), care, and maybe a confession or two
how beautiful your soul is (and your hands) by drunkonwriting (T)
Aziraphale slowly looks from the knife to Crowley’s face. “Holy water.” His voice sounds distant and strange, as if he’s hearing it from outside of himself. “The knife. It’s coated in holy water.”
Crowley’s smile is thin and bitter. “Yes,” he says.
In the aftermath of the Apocalypse, Crowley is just trying to find his feet after losing his day job. Unfortunately for him, not every demon was convinced by Aziraphale’s little show during their Trials—and that disbelief proves to be deadly. Aziraphale just wants to read books and revel in a life of freedom. But when Crowley’s hurt, all of his efforts become a race against time to heal him before it’s too late.
Wings of Porcelain by Dickenangelo (T)
"I think they're pretending it didn't happen." Good Omens, p. 218.
Not everyone is happy to pretend that the failed Apocalypse never happened.
Some of those unhappy entities pay a short visit to Aziraphale’s bookshop, a visit that would cost him not only his wings but also his newly regained confidence, as well as his favourite mug – and that is completely unforgivable.
His demon is there for him. Of course he is!
But what can he do when the angel’s mind seems to turn against him?
- Mod D
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The Northern Town Percy Jackson Peter Johnson Musical: (another) Appreciation Post
Quick Intro: So I made a previous appreciation post (short and sweet) about the official TLT musical here, a musical I would also greatly recommend to any Percy Jackson fan stumbling on this post who hasn't seen / heard of that musical, but that is not truly relevant to this post. I've decided that in the spirit of appreciating the adaptational musicals more in this era of us finally having a TV show, here's a post dedicated to a musical many of you have probably never heard of...
youtube
Calling all Percy Jackson and musical fans! Calling all Percy Jackson and musical fans!
If you haven't seen them, take this to be a recommendation post appealing you to check out the Northern Town Percy Jackson parodies!
To start on vibes: if you have seen or heard of Starkid's A Very Potter Musical (AVPM), the humour is quite similar I feel but a bit more Gen-Z-esque. This musical has managed to coalesce the entire plot of Percy Jackson and the Olympians into 1.5-2 hours in a way that greatly pays homage to the books and wraps everything up in a cohesive yet bonkers way (very similar to the way AVPM managed to form a cohesive yet bonkers Harry Potter plot combining the elements/events of all 7 books). You can tell from the watch that the people writing an acting in this are Percy Jackson fans, and have read the entire series again looking for ways to reference and and joke about the series in ways that convey their enjoyment of the original series too.
It has different vibes to the official TLT musical, but somehow is just as camp? The 1st version (linked above) is a jukebox musical filmed in essentially a patch of grass with a terrace, including some classic songs: for a start, it opens with I'm Just a Kid by Simple Plan (which is pretty PJO core honestly, and really echoes that "borderline-emo borderline-teenage borderline-angst" I associate with my first readings of Percy Jackson-), and has Poker Face by Lady Gaga in the Lotus Casino scene (I think that alone should be a convincing point). The 2nd version (linked below) is updated with snazzy outfits, 2 videos for the 2 acts and an original score with some banger songs (I would recommend Achilles Heel and Nobody's Sidekick as personal favourites- particularly Achilles Heel, which I believe has some really well done lyricism and composition).
The running jokes in this show are killer, with bits like Percy repeating his age constantly ("I'M TWELVE") and Luke's age increases pretty much every time it's mentioned. If you had to watch 1, I would say watch the 2nd version just so you can appreciate the original score more, which likely reflects theythe emotions are trying to portray much better as the lyrics apply specifically to this production. For instance, there's a song called 'Backbiter' sung by Luke, the title referring to the name of Luke's sword that I find makes a very interesting comparison. You also get better audio and lighting, aspects like that that make it better to watch on youtube, as well as more running jokes. However I'm always one to appreciate the silly 2000s energy of the initial version, and it feels like something you'd do for fun with your friends (which it was for them, according to this article!). If you appreciate that energy too, then here's your recommendation to watch that version right now.
All in all, I cannot stress how fun this musical parody is, even though it seems pretty underrated- at the very least, not many people are out here referencing it on this site. I believe this deserves to be recognised in the Percy Jackson fan consciousness for its ingenuity and just general fun nature. This post probably won't reach a lot of people, but I'd like to think it reaches enough people that more of us can appreciate this adaptation online. I've seen a lot of people say in the lead up to and the release of the TV series: "FINALLY we have a good adaptation". While I am as stoked as everyone else about there being a well-made show as well now, I'd also like to remember and appreciate the adaptations that came before and left a mark on this world as good adaptations of Percy Jackson in a time where the movies were all that most people knew about, and all we thought we'd ever get in way of adaptations. Between the TLT musical and the Northern Town parodies, I believe these musicals gave us the adaptations that the unhinged PJO gang and their just-as-unhinged fan following deserve.
youtube
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#Youtube#I think I've said what I needed to say on why this goes hard but if I have more ofc I'll come back here and add to this#major props to northern town parodies for pulling this off AND putting the whole thing on youtube for free TWICE#it's always nice to have an official recording uploaded on youtube itself given some of us wouldn't be able to watch it at all otherwise#major thank you to all of the people who were involved in this production (even though they'll likely never see this)#OH YEAH also they ARE on tumblr even though I'm not sure how active they currently are on there so find them if you like!#they have character posters on there and stuff from the original version of the musical#it really was so fun to watch#northern town parodies#ntp#pjo#pjo tv show#percy jackson#peter johnson#riordanverse#percy jackson parody#musicals#musical theatre#appreciation post#posts originating from my brain
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hello miss imo 💞 can you let the good people (me, first and foremost) in on your july reads & perhaps even a mid-year reading wrap up (fav so far + most disappointing 🧮)
hello hi 🤭😁 i got the app so i can sprinkle in emojis (it always starts unironic but apple kind of did something). ok so:
july wrap up:
a room with a view by e. m. forster: 3/5. went right back to edwardian era fiction in my attempt to be more Rounded 🧘🏾♀️ cute romantic read right on the cusp in terms of language of the time wouldn’t go older than this.
tell me i’m worthless by alison rumfitt: 5/5. i’ve spent the year trying to read horror, and then i read what is now my favourite horror book. trans characters, haunted house, actually scary and menacing? cracked it. one of my top of the year. visceral reading experience. (cw: fascism, transphobia, antisemitism, sexual assault)
real life by brandon taylor: 4/5. love this style of prose. very intimate, tender and quiet read that was introspective without being boring. think this is a debut too? impressive. (cw: sexual assault)
my brilliant friend by elena ferrante: 3/5. lovely prose, very absorbing. first in a series so not completely blown by the narrative, but i suspect every look on white female friendship has referred back to this. (cw: sexual assault)
seven days in june by tia williams: 5/5. 😁😁😁😁 LOVE. one of the most convincing romance books i’ve read in a while. so real and raw—unflinching. just yeah 🥰🤭 (cw: chronic illness, drug use and addiction, alcoholism)
the republic of false truths by alaa al aswany: 3.5/5. this is like a fictionalised retelling of very real events in egypt. appreciate for having expanded my worldview, not sure it stands as a work of fiction on its own. decent. (cw: sexual assault)
giovanni’s room by james baldwin: 3/5. classics girlies HATE me i’m sorry! 😟 the strength of the writing did not meet the narrative for me at all. didn’t emotionally connect but will try another baldwin book i swear
the man who watched the trains go by by georges simenon: 4/5. 1930s thriller spanning several european cities? sign me up. such a well constructed story
2022 mid year check in:
ok so i’m gonna talk about the books i’ve been talking about since i’ve read them 🤭😋🫣. open water by caleb azumah nelson always in my mind whenever i read 2nd person it sticks with me. also: transcendent kingdom by yaa gyasi 🥰🥰 top 2 of the year for me
disappointments… most notable my year of rest and relaxation. mexican gothic was clunky. the other black girl 🤨😐
i’ve read 170 books so far this year so i can absolutely go on but 🤭 i’ll go back to what i’m currently reading which is mouth to mouth by antoine wilson
#book talk#imo inquiries#robertpancakes#good god the length of this ask that i had to type out twice it got deleted the first time#hope i haven’t lost my approachable casual book talking vibe in that rewrite#😋#v brief recap sorry but i do have a top 2022 shelf on goodreads with the fav books i’ve read so far this year titles subject to change
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Could you tell me about your favourite band?
This is going to be kind of disorganized, but I don't really think it's a particularly well-selected band!
Nirvana was an early favorite band for a time, around age 15 or so, then I moved on to what was probably more of a classic rock phase than anything else, which included stuff like the Beatles, the Doors, and Led Zeppelin, at which age I began to consider myself some sort of "mature" "old school" music listener and wanted to take an anti-pop stance. This was around the same time I'd come back into contact with the TNC/northern caves community and some of the "classic" music I'd been listening to were being reviewed on the TNC forums. (The "classic rock" songs tended to be the ones that really did not appeal to me – the Doors, etc. – which is not to say they weren't often good. It was more a matter of them not being up to my very high standards.)
(In the course of this, I listened to a lot of music reviews written in 2005, and found that many of them took a "mature" (as in, not teenaged/college) stance and tended to include some of the classic, non-appealing songs I'd been listening to, though some did not.) The "mature" music reviews were some of the first things that convinced me it would be worthwhile to read TNC (if I could get into it) and that in particular it was interesting – "what does it say about a story that has these kinds of elements?"
Around that time I listened to the Mountain Goats, whose "mature rock" aesthetic I found to be very distinctive in its own way – the songs were dense and experimental and very weird, but they were also dense and experimental and very weird for an "anti-pop" stance. The "mature rock" aesthetic (plus my continued interest in classic rock) brought me back to Nirvana eventually
Around this time I found this blog post which is about a fantasy story I'd never heard of before and which I was immediately interested in reading. The post was in a fandom discussion and the author seemed to like a lot of bands and had many of the "classic rock" (that is, "mature rock" and "I can see why you like this but I just can't get into it" music) taste preferences I myself had developed, so I bought the book and read the first few chapters, and after that I became invested in the whole thing – I was no longer interested in whether I would read the whole thing or not, but in how it would turn out. And then I made a second friend on the forums who had the same taste in music that I did and it was much easier to make myself read.
And since then I've continued listening to many other things. But I've always kept in mind that I really want TNC to be a good story and a story that people want to read, and that these other things aren't bad just because they're different. So when listening to TNC stuff it's been something of a puzzle where I try to identify the "bad bits" and see if I can find ways to make them work for me by substituting in other things I like more or less as well.
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No matter how hard I try it will always be you| A Mason Mount story
Chapter 1: How it started...
Notes: I am so so so excited to start writing this fic, this is a little back story to the love y/n and mason felt when they were younger, so enjoy! Sorry if there is any mistakes, its pretty long lol
Blurb: You see typical teen romance, Y/n sees the boy that gave her life. The boy that helped her morph into the woman she is today. He was her first kiss, the first person she lost her innocence too, the first person to show her what real love felt like. He will always remain in her heart as her first, but never did she imagine he would be her last...
You can't really remember how you and Mason had become best friends, for as long as you had known him he had always been your favourite person in the world. Well, that was since you both were about 3, being next door neighbours.
You would both chase each other around your gardens for hours in the summer sun, jumping on his trampoline and playing in your pool while your mums shared a bottle of wine and your dads drank beer.
You even went so far as a few family holidays together, your parents being just as inseparable as you both were.
And they call it puppy love: (Ages 13)
"Belle, I need a favour."
"What?"
You were curled up on Masons bed in his little room in his house in Portsmouth. You had been contently reading your typical romance novel, as he was just sitting on his little gaming chair, paying on his xbox. That was before he had let out a rather loud sigh, then flopping down on the bed, making a dent next to you.
You knew it was serous when he had placed his controller down on the side, shutting off his game. You sat up slightly resting your head on Masons head board, folding the corner of your page and closing you book. You watched him look down and fiddle with his fingers.
"Why have you gone all quiet?" You questioned him with a smirk.
Mason turned to look at you, his face filled with concern, you grew almost worried at his expression because Mason wasn't a serious person at all.
"Daisy Renton, from our math class, she erm, asked me to go to the cinema with her this weekend." Mason said, suppressing a smile as he spoke.
"Oh."
"So what's the problem then?" You question him.
Mason sat up so he could face you, crossing his legs, "I really want to kiss her. But- but I don't know how." Mason said embarrassingly.
"So what? I doubt she does either." You screw your nose up as you look back down to your book and pick it back up, opening your page up again.
Mason lent forward, his hand bringing down the book you were trying to read. "
Y/n."
"Yes?" You shivered as he used your full name.
He had always called you belle since you were kids, well your whole family did. Referring to the princess belle who also loved reading books. You would call Mason mowgil in return, since he used to have long hair and you would tease him and say he looked like the boy from jungle book.
"I need to practice on someone first." He said sternly, but his voice was rather quiet.
"Okay? Use your hand or- Ew! Have you lost your mind?!" You shouted at him as you caught on to what he was saying.
"You want to use my mouth? Ewwwww, no way!" You said with a face full of disgust.
"Y/n pleaseee." Mason begged you.
"No way in hell mount." You said as you sat up, giving Mason a dirty look.
"I do anything, ill do your math home work?" Mason said with a smile.
"You don't even do your own math homework!"
"Good point." Mason said as he thought of something else.
"Ill be your slave for a week?" Said Mason with a hopeful smile.
It was a convincing deal, all you had to do was kiss him a little and then he would do anything you wanted. You smirked slightly as you looked at his hopeful face.
"Two weeks." You stated, crossing your arms.
"Deal."
You both shake hands as you sat across from him on the bed, crossing your legs to mimic him.
You looked into each others eyes as you both waited for the other to make a move. You couldn't stop the butterfly's in your stomach as you thought about how you was about to have your first kiss. You was sure you wanted your first kiss to be with someone you loved, you was rather naive at that age, but you just didn't know it then but you would eventually come to love the boy in-front of you.
Then Mason lent forward... rather quickly, too quickly in fact. As he managed to bash his head right into yours.
"Sorry belle-"
"'What the hell was that?" You winced as you rubbed your forehead.
"Jeez, you really do need the practice!" You giggle.
You didn't have the experience either, but you thought to just copy what had been described in all of your favourite romance books. So you pick up his hand and place it on your cheek, Mason then gets the idea to cup your cheek. You hold your hand on top of his as you smile at him for a second.
"Lean your head that way, and ill go this way." You instruct him, Mason just nods his head with wide eyes.
"And no tongue, I mean it." You say, as you lick your lips before gently lifting yourself up to place you lips on his.
There was no movemnt, you both just squeezed your eyes shut as you barley even held your soft lips onto Masons.
But for mason that wasn't enough, so he pushed his face forward into your a bit more, thinking the more squished you were the better the kiss would be. As soon as Mason pushed that little bit harder and your nose started to slightly ache there was a slight interruption.
"Mason is y/n saying for tea-"
Masons mum burst through the door as you and Mason quickly pulled away.
"Oh my god." Masons mum stood there stunned at the idea of her son in a room, with a girl, alone, kissing, at only 13 years old.
You were sat in his kitchen a few moments later, you sister and Masons sister giggling at you from the door way as your mum and Masons mum mumbled in each others ears.
Masons mum coughed as she got ready to speak up, "Have you two, you know, you haven't touched each others private parts have you?"
"MUM!" Mason shouted.
"You can tell us." You mum spoke up.
As your cheeks flushed red and your mouth gaped open, while you heard your sisters giggles in the hall along with masons sisters snorts, as your mum pushed them out and shut the door.
"We just need to know-" You mum said gently.
"Mason forced me!" You blurted out, pointing to the boy in defence, tears welling in your eyes.
Mason turned his head to you with a pissed expression. "Y/N!" Mason said as he shrugged his shoulders, slumping back into the chair with crossed arms..
"Mason is this true? Have you forced y/n to do anything she doesn't want too?" Mason mum asked.
You mum covered her mouth as they both looked at you with worried expression.
"I- I no she said she would teach me how to kiss I didn't do anything I swear1" Mason pleaded to his mum as he stood up, he looked down at you giving you a dirty look.
"What the hell belle?!" Mason looked like you had just stabbed him in the back. He tightly crossed his arms and stomped up the stairs back to his room, slamming the door shut for an added effect.
You sat there for a moment, just listening to Debbies and your mums giggles in the kitchen. What the hell just happened?
You mother came over and sat down next to you at the table, a small smile on her face as she noticed your red cheeks. "Teach him how to kiss huh?" You mum smirked at you.
"He needed a mouth to practice on for daisy Renton! I didn't want too, he was going to be my slave for two weeks and he won't do it now because he's unfair like that and now-" You rambled on about mason to your mum, who just sat, trying to contain her wide smile.
You mum looked at Debbie and giggled, "I have a weird feeling you two might get married one day." You mum winked as she got up and walked back over to Debbie.
"Gross." You mumbled as you stood up and walked back around to your house that was next too Masons.
And that's how you and Mason got banned from having sleepovers...
Mason went a whole week not talking to you after that, well six days, the longest he had ever gone not speaking to you. But in them six days Mason was trying to shake the weird feeling you gave him in is stomach when you kissed him, weird, he thought.
Mason never went to the cinema with daisy that weekend.
Seven minuets in heaven: (Ages 14)
You and Mason were at some typical teenage party in cold and damps shed filled with fairy light. Someone had stolen their parents alcohol, so you were all sat sipping from the bottle of vodka that was being passed between the 6 of you, all wincing at the taste.
You were playing seven minuets in heaven and it was currently your turn to spin the bottle as you silently hoped it would land on harry smith, a boy you had been crushing on for a while. But to your luck it didn't, it landed on Mason. Mason who was silently thanking the dim light in the small shed that was currently covering his flushed crimson cheeks.
You stood up as you looked down at Mason who hadn't moved a muscle. "Come on then?"
3 minuet and 12 seconds in, you were both sat cross legged in the bathroom, your eyes glued on the timer in front of you, Masons eyes glued on you.
"You wanted it to land on Harry didn't you?" Mason mumbled to you.
"No."
"Then why did you just blush?"
"Shut up mowgli." You said as you crossed your arms.
"I have an idea?" Mason said with a smile.
"And what's that mase?" You questioned him with raised eyebrows.
"Lets make him jealous." Mason said with a smirk.
Kiss number 2:
Mason cupped your cheek just liked he had done the year before, as he started to lean in, slower this time, not squeezing his eyes as much as he tired to savour the moment.
He carefully attached his lips to your soft ones one again, placing his hands on the floor since he didn't know where to put them.
But all his worry disappeared when he felt the same feeling as last time, them all to familiar butterfly's swarming in his stomach, as he felt the feeling he had been craving for the last year.
There was a small ounce of tongue added by Mason who was trying to push his luck, but you didn't mind as you let his tongue slightly try explore your mouth.
The kiss to anyone else looked sloppy and wet, and probabaly unexperienced, but to the both of them, it felt magical.
When Mason pulled away the only thing left was both of your red cheeks, wide smiles and also a long line of saliva that was attached to both of your mouths.
You breathing was heavy as you averted your eyes anywhere around the room to avoid his. "At least you won't have a headache this time." Mason laughed, meaning the fact he had bashed your heads like bowling balls the last time he tried to kiss you.
Then you were interrupted just like before as the door was ripped open by none other than your friend Lauren, "Okay next is- Oh. My. God. You both defiantly kissed!"
"No we didn't." Mason blurted out.
"Shut up mason, the dribble on your chin says otherwise."
You giggled as watch him rub his chin with the sleeve of his jacket, before he looks up to smile at you.
After that you and Mason occasionally found yourselfs in situation where you might of kissed each other again, but you both thought it was better to not make moves, you were young, and you both managed to be thinking that other didn't feel the same.
Young love: (ages 15)
"Im not sure loz." You protested as you were sat in your friend Laurens room.
"Your in love!" she shouted at you, she was the number one fan of the y/n and mason fan club.
"Im 15, I don't know what love feels like!" You furred your brows at her.
"Of corse you can be in love at 15, its like, young love, it cute!"
You walked home that night, 9pm on a sunny Sumer night, Laurens words running through your mind as you thought about love. So instead of going home you texted Mason to sneak you into his house.
When you got to the front door mason let you in as you both creeped up the stairs.
"Are you staying over?" Mason questioned you, he was in his pjs as he moved to get a jumper out of his draw to lend you when he saw the goosebumps on your skin.
You stood with your arms crossed as you extend your hand to take the jumper, smiling softly at him and how well he knew you.
"Do you think we're to young to know what love feels like?" You asked him as you sat on the end of his bed.
"Why?" Mason knew the answer to your question, he was sure he had been in love with you for most of his life, but he wasn't going to tell you that.
"I don't know." You shrugged as you looked up at him.
His hair was messy as it usually was, short on the sides and long on the top, his Chelsea pj shirt was on, the ones you both have matching of as he just smiled at you. One of is typical warm mount smiles that managed to send your tummy swirling since the age of 9.
"Mase."
"Yeah?" Mason said as he lent forward, brushing your hair behind you ear.
"Are you going to kiss me again?" You whispered.
"What?" Masons eyes went wide as he tensed up.
"Would you ever- you know, would you do it again?" You started to stutter out of embarrassment.
"In a heart beat." Mason whispered back, noticing how you had gotten nervous at his reaction, if you were implying what he thought you were implying, Mason just took a chance, as he kissed you, for the third time, just like he had done last year, and the year before that.
But this time he had a hand laid on your waist as the other was cupping your cheek, you placed your hand on his shoulder as you let him slowly slip his tongue in, letting it swirl about and explore your mouth as you did the same, feeling your stomach explode, you always wanted to be kissing him. His lips felt like they were made for yours.
You both kissed until you ran out of air, pulling away for a second before Mason rested his forehead on yours.
"My favourite thing to do is kissing you." Mason said breathlessly onto your lips.
"More than football?" You giggled.
"More than anything." Mason smiled as he kissed you again, with the same amount of passion but with more force.
The experience of love: (age 16)
The boy to steal your first kiss at 13 to the boy who took your innoconcce at 16. After sharing small kisses from the ages of 15 you and Mason blossomed together as you both experienced young love though the other.
Mason made your first time just as special as you deserved, just like how you had imagined it in the books you read.
It was the night he had taken you to your prom, he heald your hand the whole time, wispering sweet things in your ear as he constatintly asked you if you were okay, calling you beautiful with every push. You both had the experience of being able to explore each others bodies together, becoming comfortable with eachother and then becoming comfotable in your own skin.
You felt loved. Mason made you feel loved.
Where'd all the time go?: (Ages 17)
You were completely and utterly in love, you spent your summers resting against the blossom tree behind your houses, Mason head laying in your lap as you read to him a book you had already read about 50 times. There was always a small daisy placed behind your ear by mason as he just hummed along as you continued to speak the words from the book, one hand tangled in his as he ate the carrot sticks you had bought along with you.
And when you weren't reading to him, you were sat with Debbie and Tony in the stands as you cheered him on while he played football. Mason loved you for that, that no matter what you would go to all his games, you would wear his shirt from the game before as you screamed louder the anyone else in the stands. He loved how you would give him bone crushing hugs after every match no matter the out come of the game, how you would always tell him how proud you were of him, how you would always tell him to follow his dreams.
Mason felt loved. You made him feel loved.
Only love can hurt like this: (Ages 18)
It all starred on some random Saturday morning, you was waiting in the stands for Mason after one for his typical matches at the Chelsea youth stadium.
After the match he had been beckoned from the sidelines by his coach as you watched him be introduced to a fancy man in a suit. Mason shaked his hand as you watched what was clear nerves consume him. You watched him fiddling with his fingers behind his back as he let out a rather unconfident laugh before shaking the mans hand once again to say goodbye.
You couldn't help but let your heart burst from how proud you were of him as you watched his face light up with a little twinkle in his eyes as he was walking over to you and his parents.
When Mason walked over to where you had been waiting for him his mum immediately ran up to him, engulfing him in a bone crushing hug, ruffling his hair with a wide smile on her face.
"So? What did he want?” asked Debbie as she stood almost anxious for her son to reply to her, she had that typical wide mount grin on her face, almost replicating the one plastered on her sons face.
“Me." Mason said shocked at his own words, as he blinked a few times.
"He wanted me mum, he offered me a years contract as a first team player, for a pro club!” he said, he was so in shock as he said it, he himself didn't even believe the own words coming out of his mouth.
“Oh my god Masey!” His mum didn't hesitate to smothered him with affection and another long loving hug. Even though he would often find his mums public show of affection rather embarrassing, this time he hugged her back, tighter than he usually would as tears started welled up in his eyes.
You held eye contact with him the whole time he was hugging his mum, happy for him, of corse. But knowing mason as well as you did you couldn't help but sense some sadness in your boyfriends eyes.
As he pulled away from his mum he stood back, fiddling with his hands again as he looked down at his shoes, ready to shut down all the congratulations.
“What’s up mate?” Asked his dad patting his back.
“He’s just shocked, thats all!” Debbie waved her hands in Tonys face as she rubbed Masons cheek.
“So where did you get offered too baby?” His mum was very teary but she had managed to suck them back, to avoid embarrassing him.
You peeped forward to speak up, noticing his quietness.
“So, where you off to Mr professional footballer baller?” You giggled looking at your boyfriend but masons eyes stayed stuck on the floor, not daring to look at your face.
You felt a pit form in your stomach at Mason silence, Mason hated silence, but then you watched him take a deep breath as he finally spoke up...
“Vittese.” he murmurs, he was still refusing to look at you, or his mum.
“Wheres that? Mase what’s the problem sweetie?” Said his mum asked softly, confused at Masons hostile attitude.
You knew then, why he was so silent.
“Oh Mason. This is erm, it's a good thing! It's an opportunity of a life time mate.” Said Masons dad at the realisation of the problem.
“Im not- I'm not following boys? Tony what are you on about? Mason? Mason Tony mount can you answer me!” said Debbie with clear frustration laced in her voice, she felt kept in the dark by everyone around her, not seeing the problem unfolding in front of them.
But there was no reply from anyone.
“Okay, so what, it's a shit team I suppose. Is that right? What’s the problem can someone explain to me please?” She was panicking now, looking back an forth from Mason, Tony and you...
You knew what this meant, but you stayed quiet.
“Vitesse.” Says Mason, almost like it was obvious.
She just looks at him, just as confused as before. "Well, where is that?” she questions him.
“Amsterdam, mum.”
Then he said it out loud, the realisation ranging in your chest, he was moving to Amsterdam.
Masons mum had then let the tears drop she’s had so desperately been trying to hold back.
“No. No way! You’re too young, you’re only eighteen Mason, like fuck im letting you go to Amsterdam." Said Debbie as she waved her hands in the air.
"Debbie.” says Tony, trying to clam her down.
She was rambling now, crying too. Masons dad telling her to calm down and explaining how great of an opportunity this is, and how well it’s going to benefit him in the future of his career.
But while all that was going on, all you could hear was muffled sounds as you broken all the noise around you out. Focusing on your childhood love who was so clearly trying to hide the pain behind his eyes. You both stood, quiet, almost as though you were speechless.
After that was a blur, the car ride home was silent as masons mum couldn't even think about the idea of he youngest son leaving the country at such a young age.
When you both walked in through the door into masons bedroom, you were still silent, you was going to try lighten the mood until Mason finally decided to speak up.
“Belle. We have to talk about this." Mason said quietly, but you couldn't find it in you to reply.
"I don't have to go." Mason mumbled as he shrugged his shoulders.
“What?” you stare at him almost angry and confused as you felt the anger bubble in your stomach.
Was he being serious right now?
“Mason, name me one reason why you shouldn’t go?” You scoffed at him.
Without a hesitation the boy replied “You.”
You were shocked at his words, you had both in the past had countless convocations about how you would hate for him to ever put you over his carer.
“Oh come on, Im not a good enough reason for you to not take this deal, Mason.” you laugh at him, sitting on the end of the bed as masons body towered over you.
“Yes, yes you are? And stop calling me Mason, I don’t like it.” Mason said like a hurt child.
“No, I’m not. Like your dad said, its a huge deal! It would be so beneficial for your career, and I will not be the reason why you don’t go far in life, mason.” You said as you crossed your arms, making a point.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mason said, shaking his face as he was extremely confused.
“I mean.” You take a deep breath, you turn to face him, staring right into them dark brown eyes you will always love. Both preparing for what you know is going to come out of your mouth, you just hated that you had to be the one to say it.
“If I’m your only reason not to go, then I won’t be here if you decide stay.” You simply say as you shrug your shoulders, looking down so you didn't have to see heartbroken face.
“What? I- what are you saying? You’re not breaking u-" Then the moment of realisation hit him.
Then it was silent.
"No. Stop it y/n, I’m not having this convocation, the season doesn’t start till next month ill figure something out-”
“Mason.” You interrupt his rambling.
“NO!” he shouts, the anger laced within his voice.
However you him to well, and you know that tone too, he’s covering up that he’s hurt and scared, and that shattered your heart as you knew what you needed to do.
“Mase. Please don’t make this difficult.” you’re gentle with your words, you didnt want to upset him, but you both needed to have this out.
A single tear flowed down your blotchy red cheek as you stand up to walk forward and stand across from him, you place your hand on Masons cheek, his eyes were just as red and puffy as yours as he was moving his head, avoiding your touch.
“This is what we are gonna do, okay?”
He shakes his head not wanting to hear what you have to say, not wanting the tears to spill from his eyes. He mumblers a few no’s he really dosent want to hear what you have to say.
“Your going to take that offer-”
“Y/n.”
“No mason listen to me, you’re taking that offer because-" You take a deep breath. "I won’t even be here, I’m not a good enough reason for you to stay, don’t be stupid."
"But- but you are! Why can't you see that, y/n please I love you." His voice cracking as he said them three words, and it completely shattered your heart.
“We will be fine-” you feel like a knife had been dragged down your chest.
“I love you.” he said it again.
You let out a long breath.
“Its a year, right? We will be fine, okay? Im going to university in London, you're be off kicking arse in Amsterdam getting all them goals and imagine the playing time your have. And I'm going to focus on university, and maybe ill start this YouTube thing we spoke about.”
You giggle a little thinking of the future, you just wanted to see him smile, but thinking of the future and not seeing you in it was like hell to Mason.
“And, if things work out, I’ll be here when you get back, Mase. I promise you, I'll still be here, I promise you okay, I'm not going anywhere.” You rest your forehead on his.
“Your breaking up with me arn't you?” His voice cracked again, and your heart cracked again at the sound.
“Mase.”
“Why can’t we just long distance it?”
“What if you like it there? What if you want to stay longer than a year?” you said gently.
Theres that silence that fills the room again.
"I don't know if I can do it without you." Mason sniffles.
"Me too." You say to him, letting him know your be in just as much pain without him too, you then bump your nose against his.
“Promise you wait for me?”
“I promise I will mase.”
From strangers to friends into lovers and strangers again:
Then you were standing outside terminal 3, watching as he holds onto his suitcases.
He was hugging all his family and friends that were at the airport to see him off. You were just stood at the side with your mum and dad and siblings as they all wished him good luck, and you waited for your turn knowing you was going to be last.
When Mason gets to you he just embraces you in a long tight loving hug, the sight of you both making his mum cry, and even dec let a small tear fall, as he tried to cover it up.
But you had just let the tears fall, as you sobbed quietly into his shoulder, soaking up the last of the feeling of him you will have.
When you pull back and look at each others glossy eyes as he leans forward and gently kisses your forehead you squeeze your eyes shut last the feeling of the last kiss you will both share, loving the feeling of his soft lips on your skin.
Mason pulled away first, as much as he hated too. He hated seeing you cry, and to know he was the one causing you this pain hurt him. He was refusing to look in your eyes so instead he looked at the small bag in his left hand.
"Ive got a bag of my favourite hoodies for you to wear while im gone." Mason sniffles, as he bumps your shoulder, forcing a smile.
You slowly grab the bag from him a smile appearing on your lips as you see your favourite hoodie of Masons folded on the top, and a small Chelsea magnet you had gotten him when you were about 7.
“Theres some other stuff too, just so you dont ever forget me." Mason shrugs, a single tear slipping down his cheek.
You just sniffle and rub a tear that had rolled down your cheek. You look back up at Mason with a grateful smile. “Thanks Mowagli.”
“Your going to miss your flight Mason.” Masons dad called out to him, hated to interrupt your moment together.
He now finally looks down at you through his eyelashes as he makes eye contact with you, you notice the glossiness in his eyes, and the pain behind it.
“Don’t forget me when you're some big time famous singer, yeah?”
“If yon’t forget me when your some big time professional footballer known for scoring all the goals.” He giggles at your comment, and how you were always so sure in him.
"I could never for get you, belle." Your heart stiffened a the nickname.
“Right then." Mason pulled back standing up straight and sniffling back his tears.
"Ill see you the I get back." Mason smiles at you.
"See you when you get back."
You were trying so hard to hold back your tears, but as you watched the back of the love of your life walk away from you when you weren't done loving him yet.
You couldn't even focus on the excessive amount of tears rolling down you cheeks in front of everyone you knew.
You cared more about Mason, how lonely he would be in a strange country on his own. How empty you would feel not being able to just call him up and complain about your day, who were you going to go to when you needed a hug.
You had always had each other, since the age of 3. Mason was all you knew, he was your home and you were his..
But now all you saw in the future was complete and utter loneliness for the both of you.
Comment and I’ll add you to my tag list🤍
#mason mount#mason mount fic#mason mount smut#Mason mount x reader#mason mount imagine#Mason mount x y/n#mason mount fluff#chelsea#england nt#footballer imagine#chelsea fc#football#footballer x reader#ben chilwell
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if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!
a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry.
also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj
warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist
Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.
“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.
“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”
“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.
“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”
“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”
“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”
“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.
“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”
“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”
“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”
Ah, fuck.
“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.
“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”
“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”
Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.
“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.
“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”
“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.
____
“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.
“What could I possibly get you?”
“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.
“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”
“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."
“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.
“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”
He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.
“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”
He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.
“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”
“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”
“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”
“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.
“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.
“It’s none of your busi-”
“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”
His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.
“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.
“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.
“I’m literally asking you.”
“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.
“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”
“Like Pandora’s Box?”
“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”
He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.
“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.
“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.
“Sir, you’re a geriatric."
“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.
“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”
He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”
“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”
“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”
“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”
“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.
“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”
“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”
“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”
“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.
“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.
“I want this to get over before this evening.”
“What time’s your date?”
“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.
“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”
“Five o’clock, now let go.”
“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.
“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.
You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.
A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.
“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.
Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.
“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.
“I told you; bad luck in a box.”
“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”
“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”
He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.
“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”
He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.
“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.
“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”
He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.
____
Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.
He isn’t used to having his weekends free.
He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.
His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.
It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.
The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.
He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.
He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.
He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.
“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.
They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.
He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.
The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.
Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.
He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.
Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.
He was sure he picked it up.
He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.
This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.
Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.
His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.
“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”
“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.
See? Good luck.
He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.
He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.
He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.
He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.
He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.
He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.
“Is everything okay?”
Fuck.
He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.
“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”
He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.
He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.
He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.
He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.
His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.
Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.
The box.
He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.
Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.
He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.
Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.
He fucking trips again.
“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”
He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.
Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.
No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.
He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.
There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.
There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.
There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.
The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.
Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.
The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.
He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.
“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.
He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.
“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”
Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.
The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.
It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.
The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.
Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.
The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.
He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.
Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.
Motherfu-
He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.
“James?”
“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”
“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.
“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."
“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.
“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.
“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.
“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.
“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”
“You must be really dehydrated."
Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”
He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.
“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”
He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.
“I, uh,-”
“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.
“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.
His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.
However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.
He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.
“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.
“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”
He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.
“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”
“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”
It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.
He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.
But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.
He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.
“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”
Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”
He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.
He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.
He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.
Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.
It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.
Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.
He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.
He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.
Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.
The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.
The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?
His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.
The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.
When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.
There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.
He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.
But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.
The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.
“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.
“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”
When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-
“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”
“I need you to fix whatever this is.”
“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.
There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.
The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.
The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.
He should have known. He should have fucking known.
Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.
In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.
It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?
There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.
It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.
But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.
He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.
The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.
His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.
“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”
He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”
“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.
It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.
“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.
“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”
“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”
He hesitates. “I guess?”
“Was she nice?”
“Yeah.” Where was this going.
“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”
“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”
“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”
“Just fix it.”
“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.
He waits for you to do something.
You flick him on the forehead.
“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”
What.
He says exactly what he’s thinking.
You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”
Huh?
“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”
He’s confused.
“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”
“The shoelaces?”
“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”
His face scrunches in puzzlement.
“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”
He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.
“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”
“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”
He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.
“What about the fucking geese?”
You pause for a second. “The geese?”
“And the elevator.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”
“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”
“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”
“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”
“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”
He nods briskly.
“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”
“Perfume?”
“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”
“It wasn’t an inator?”
“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.
“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.
“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”
“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?
“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.
Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.
“Wait here a second.”
You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.
“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."
He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.
You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.
He reluctantly extends it towards you.
“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”
You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.
“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”
“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”
“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”
“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”
“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”
He scoffs. “Thanks.”
You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.
He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.
“Bucky.”
He turns around.
There’s a hint of a smile on your face.
“Take the stairs.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice.
Next part
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#mcu fic#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#harmless fic#winter soldier x reader#Winter Soldier#bucky barnes#bucky
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A Wizard’s Spellbook
I honestly don't know what this is. This whole thing was just born from the "a wizards spellbook" prompt for Shadowgastober and the missing apostrophe that got me wondering... Because it makes a pretty big difference where you place that.
There’s not a lot of shadowgast in this, I still hope you’ll have fun reading this!
Summary: Why, you will ask yourself, does your professor leave his book on his desk during his lessons? Why then, does he keep it open, why does he invite you to look at it, why is he so careless? Doesn't he know that only the wizard who works alone will succeed? Doesn't he know that solitude mitigates risks? Doesn't he know that that's the thing about wizards? Eventually there is only one left.
Professor Widogast, his wizard's spellbook, and the many lessons he learned from his friends.
Warnings: light lifespan angst
Read on AO3
A wizard's spellbook, they will tell you when you start to study magic, is their most prized possession. They will not share it. They will not lend it. They will not leave it unsupervised.
Guard your spells and guard your knowledge, they will say, lest they be perverted, perfected, poached. Write in a cypher no-one knows, they will teach you, that you have created yourself. As a dragon hoards its gold, a wizard hoards their magic.
If you are offered a spell, grab it and take it, you likely won't get another chance. If you can find a wizard's spellbook, grab it and take it, you likely won't get another chance. If you are offered friendship, don't take it, you likely will end up with a knife in your back.
Be selfish. Be cruel. Be stronger, better, mightier than anyone else.
So why then, you will ask yourself, does your professor leave his book on his desk during his lessons? Why then, does he keep it open, why does he invite you to look at it, why is he so careless? Doesn't he know that only the wizard who works alone will succeed? Doesn't he know that solitude mitigates risks? Doesn't he know that that's the thing about wizards? Eventually there is only one left.
"Professor Widogast," you will say, "should you not keep your spells secret?"
He will laugh and say: "That is the way of wizards of ages past. I learned from my friend at the Cobalt Soul that all knowledge must be shared."
Your professor will have many stories like that, learned from many friends. The first time he shows you a page in his spellbook you will balk at the obscene drawings in the margins. Again, his eyes will crinkle and he'll say: "I learned from my friend, who gave powers to her god, that the world always needs a little more chaos."
You professor is a strange man with strange antics, as old men are wont to be. But he just might be the strangest of them all. He will laugh and joke, he will ask you to give your opinions, to think for yourself, quiz you on the ethics of wizardry (which is the test most of his students fail, even more than their dreaded final thesis). He will drink dead-people-tea and occasionally talk about a traveller named Artie, who apparently stops by from time to time. He's voyaged aboard legendary ships such as the Nein Heroez and was close friends with Archmage Beck, a Shadowhand, as well as a Plank King. You will be convinced that not even half of his stories are true—there can't be a weasel inhabited by an archfey pretending to be a god, surely not—but then he returns with proof and you will have to reconsider your entire worldview.
Once he will walk around and gesticulate with his spellbook and a pressed flower will float out. When they ask about it, he will reply: "This is a lesson I learned from my gentlest friend: it is important to remember those you love; and it is important to learn how to move on."
Once you realise his offers are genuine, you will stay longer after class and ask if you might see his spellbook. When you look at the first page and ask about the dozens of names and titles that are all attributed to him, he will nod solemnly and say: "If you are in a relationship that does not suit your needs, it is never too late to change your allegiances. This I was taught by my friend who challenged, threatened, and denied a demigod and lived to tell the tale."
You will be taught that wizards do not share, yet that is exactly what your professor asks you to do. So eventually, you have two options. Eventually, you will drop out of his class—his school is not the one you're interested in anyways, you want to learn Evocation which is his third-favourite school. Or, eventually, you will learn to speak up when your professor asks for your opinions. Eventually, you will learn to challenge his. And eventually, you will learn that he will just listen and nod along. In the end, he will praise you for your thoughts and say: "This is what I learned from my considerate friend, who almost let another live his life, because he thought it was the right thing to do: solitude might be safe, but it's not fulfilling. You need to share with others who have the same powers as you do and might just find out that what they do is way cooler." You are not quite sure what that statement has to do with a spectral lollipop.
When you will ask about a spell you try to remake, your professor will smile and offer his help. You had just hoped for advice, maybe, and do not know how to deal with that offer. At your confusion he replies: "I learned from my friend who's an alchemist and detective, that when you work together you just might make the impossible possible. And you just might become who you're meant to be."
You learn how to work with your professor and learn more about his wizard's spellbook. You learn that it is so heavy he cannot lift it without adjusting its gravity. You learn that this is not his first spellbook, that he began creating it with his husband. You learn that there are some pages that are so covered with annotations and corrections, that they are barely legible; some are annotated with glued-in papers that together could cover the entire Academy. You will whisper to your friends about this and he'll hear you and chime in: "This is a lesson I had to learn myself. You will make mistakes and you may regret them. But you cannot erase them, so you will just learn how to live with them, learn from them, and do better in the future."
At some point, when you are working on your third or fifth or tenth spell, you will reach the part where you are stuck. Where none of the knowledge either of you have amassed, none of the rules and guidelines can help you. Then, your professor will sweep his age-white hair out of his eyes and sigh: "I have almost no lessons left to share with you, but this is what my friend, the pirate, taught me: fuck the rules." Surprisingly to both of you, that will work. Surprisingly to one of you what will solve the problem is a combination of Transmutation and Dunamancy—an idea your professor will not tell you where it originated.
When you finish that spell, your professor will laugh and hug you and do a little dance. After, you will finally ask him about his strange wizard's spellbook. Your professor will sigh and deflate and suddenly you will realise just how much time he must have spent on this earth (how long does it take for an elf to even show a single wrinkle? How long until they are looking as ancient as him?)
"It's easy," he will reply, "for this is no wizard's spellbook. This I learned from my husband, who taught young mages like you before me: this is a wizards' spellbook. Every student I ever taught, every friend I ever made, every soul I cared for, I ask to add to this tome." He will smile thoughtfully, tears glimmering in the corner of his eyes." Look," he will say, "it's almost full. Hopefully, in time I may pass it on."
And hopefully, in time you may find that what they tell you is wrong. Hopefully, in time you may find that Professor Essek Widogast and his many lessons from his many friends are right. Hopefully, in time you may pass them on and leave the world better than you found it.
#My writing#critical role#critical role fanfiction#essek thelyss#the mighty nein#the mighty nine#caleb widogast#jester lavorre#fjord stone#kingsley tealeaf#caduceus clay#veth brenatto#beauregard lionett#yasha nydoorin#shadowgast#sgtober2021#i literally don't know what to tag this as#this might be the weirdest thing i've ever written#i like it#but it's weird
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Hi there! Can you please do relationship headcanons of a gender neutral MC with autism and ADHD dating the seven brothers? I’d love to see more positive writing of a neurodivergent MC and how each of the brothers would love and respect them regardless of their disabilities. Feel free to do this if you want to. If not, that’s ok! Have a great day! 😁👍🌷🌹🌺🌸🌼🌻🌷🌹🌻🌼🌸🌺
This ask literally made me squeal- my neurodivergent ass is gonna have way too much fun with this- LMAO Just a warning, I'm basing this mainly off of my personal experiences (I have ADHD and am possibly getting tested for atypical autism in the future.). Ill try to be as broad as possible but I'd just like to give a heads up.
Just know that if you don't relate to this post or something in it, that doesn't mean you aren't valid! Everyone experiences neurodivergencey differently ^^
☆The Brothers Dating A GN!MC With Autism & ADHD☆
Day-to-day life has always been a struggle. As it feels like no human truly understands why you function the way you do. From bosses, to teachers, to neurotypical friends. Life can feel draining and like a chore when you're living in a world that doesn't function the way you do.
Then your world literally changes. You're in the devildom now. Most people would be terrified that they're living in a house full of demons. But you weren't. You felt like you finally belonged, and eventually you finally found love. Something that people assumed you'd never be able to find. Well jokes on them because your lover treats you with so much respect and kindness, and of course you do the same. This is some of what your lover does that just makes your heart spin:
Lucifer:
-Much to your dismay, before Lucifer started to get to know you he was similar to the humans you've encountered in the past. This doesn't last long though as one of the brothers (most likely Leviathan or Mammon) try to explain. He begins to go a bit easier on you, and also falls for you.
-When you guys start dating, he makes it his goal to help make your day-to-day life easier. Dare I say, he takes pride in it. (Hahahah aren't I funny?)
-He notices how you need a schedule to function, but how much you hate schedules. So with your permission, he makes a loose schedule and follows it WITH you. It simultaneously helps you function more than usual, and it helps Lucifer take breaks when he needs to.
-You two begin to do everything together, as doing stuff together and holding each other accountable is a lot easier than doing it alone
-If someone ever dares to make a rude comment about you Lucifer will um... "take care of them".
-If you ever get overstimulated from the environment you're in, Lucifer keeps his office wide open as a quiet place for you. He keeps a weighted blanket, some headphones and any stim toys you usually use in a corner of his office. If you're not comfortable with them out in the open he'll keep them in a special box somewhere in his office that others can't get into.
Mammon:
-Executive Dysfunction gang! The both of you are relieved that you understand each other and some dumbass wont just go "jUsT gEt Up aNd dO iT!"
-If you guys are struggling with it at different times, you'll try to help each other do small tasks that require very limited effort so that one of you don't get overwhelmed and stressed out. If its a particularly difficult day, you'll just stay there to support the other if they want that.
-If both of you are struggling that day, you do nothing ✨together✨ and just vibe with each others company.
-This man brings you shiny things. They don't even have to be worth anything, they're just shiny. You proceed to do the same. You two now have a designated spot for shiny things you bring each other. If you have an interest in art, you and him will probably end up using the shiny objects as art projects.
-A LOT of impulse shopping. You guys enable each other. Although you quickly realize that you impulse shop for each other. Every second day you end up bringing each other gifts and laughing about it after.
Leviathan:
-Y'know that arm thing two neurodivergent people do when they find out that the other person is neurodivergent? Yeah you two did that. And still continue to do that. It's your greeting now.
-You two spend tons of time either cuddling and talking about your special interests together, or both of you are pacing around Levi's room talking about your special interests together.
-And if you end up having the same special interest?? Oh man the serotonin you two both get just being AROUND each other.
-If you have a hard time around tons of people (in general or just at certain times) he's more than willing to share his room with you and for you two to do online school together. I mean hey, doing school by yourself online is difficult. (Even if it's more comfortable for you both)
-Will he get you a matching pair of noise cancelling headphones if you have auditory sensory issues, or if you just like the pressure on your head. (I don't know if that's a neurodivergent thing but I will wear my headphones just so that I feel some sort of pressure on my head)
-You both communicate what you need, and whether you need alone time or not. Making sure not to trigger any form of rejection sensitivity dysphoria for eachother.
Satan:
-If you were one of those neurodivergent kids that spent all of their time in the library, going through books like wildfire in middle school, get ready for that to be reignited.
-You two will read together all the time, and if you're having a day where you're more fidgety and don't wanna stay still, Satan is more than happy reading to you while you pace around.
-Satan has a natural curiosity, and loves to learn about anything that he doesn't already know about. So if you have a special interest about your own neurodivergency, he is more than happy to listen to you ramble about your life experiences and symptoms.
-Honestly, it doesn't even have to be about neurodivergency, Satan is happy to listen and learn about anything you're interested currently.
-If you aren't big on physical affection from humans or, well... humanoid people, that's perfectly fine! That's what animals are for! He'll take you to a cat cafe and will enjoy spending time with the animals with you.
-Similar to Lucifer, if anyone makes a comment about the way you act, they wont live to see another day. Unlike Lucifer, the demons who say these comments don't even finish their sentence. They're dead before MC blinks.
Asmodeus:
-When Asmodeus finds out that you have sensory issues that affect what you wear, he decides to hand-make clothes with fabrics of your choice. He has no issue with you prioritizing comfort over appearance, but if you want to put effort into your appearance and texture is stopping you, he's more than happy to design some stuff for you.
-Asmodeus has always been a touchy person, but if you aren't comfortable with that he'd never force you to cuddle. If you are interested in physical affection one of his favourite things to do is put makeup on your face, or just touch your face.
-Speaking of which, if you ever impulsively cut your hair whether it be from breakdown, normal impulsivity, or sensory issues with your hair being longer. He'll always help you cut your hair. He wants to make sure that once you cut it, you wont regret it the next day.
-Depending on whether you like going outside or not (or if its depending on the day) he's more than happy to take you to the fall! He'll make sure you're always comfortable and if you need the attention diverted from you if you need a break!
-If you don't like going outside, Asmo will dedicate certain nights for just you two to hang out. He can always energy match you. Hyperactive? Oh he's right there with you bouncing of the walls. Calmer? He doesn't mind just vibing with you. Comfort? Oh you've come to the right guy.
-Asmodeus is very emotionally intelligent, it may have originally been for the wrong purposes (charming others) but now he can use it to help you work through issues with socializing with others, past traumas from other people, he'll always do his best to support you as long as you'd do the same for him!
Beelzebub:
-Beel is always well meaning, but whether you're neurodivergent or neurotypical, communication is key with him. So, if you're unintentionally blunt to neurotypical people, that's exactly what Beel needs and wants. He knows you don't mean it out of harm, you're just trying to state your boundaries.
-Do you need a weighted blanket? This man will become the weighted blanket. He wants to make sure you're comfortable at all times!
-If you have trouble eating, Beel is here to help. If you take meds for ADHD and they make you lose your appetite, or just general forgetfulness, he'll remind you to have at least some sort of small snack throughout the day. Nothing too filling, just enough so that you aren't running on zero food throughout the day.
-All the go-to and comfort foods that you had in the human world? Beel would make it his MISSION to get them, and TONS of it too. It's the only food in the house he wont eat because he knows how important it is to you. He will tear up a bit if you offer to share though.
-If you're in a hyperactive mood, or anxious, Beel will convince you to do some light exercise with him to help calm you down
Belphegor:
-If you have trouble sleeping, Belphie will definitely try and help. Ranging from cuddling, aroma therapy, getting Beel to do exercise with you. To more magical means (if you're comfortable with it) like sleeping powder.
-If you just have a different internal clock than the average person, that's fine too! It may be permanent but that's okay- Belphie will sleep at any time with you.
-Isn't generally a social person so if you're not that big of a fan of social interaction you don't have to worry. Belphie would even do online school with you!
-He would let you use his pillows and blankets to stim if that's something you're interested in. He'd also listen to you ramble about your interests while doing so! As long as you don't mind him talking about the stars afterwards.
-Definitely the most blunt out of his brothers, so communication wouldn't be an issue between you two. If his bluntness is a bit too harsh for you he'll try to tone it down a bit, but it would probably just end up as him trying to explain the reasoning behind the bluntness and how it's not out of harm.
#neurodivergent!MC obey me#obey me#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me shall we date#obey me x reader
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she's a rae of sunshine (c.h.)
okay so this was a request but i completely read it wrong so i’m gonna write it again but i finished this one anyway so here take it
so sorry to the anon who requested it bc u were so fuckin sweet i’ll have it up asap i promise
playlist
ralph castelli - morning sex
crumb - bones
jorja smith - teenage fantasy
summary: balancing college life and wanting to support your best friends online endeavors was difficult, but reader regrets trying a little harder when she finally meets one of her newer stream-mates
word count: 2, 828
WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used, coarse language, lowkey OOC Corpse, that needs its own warning i’m sorry,
•••
“Look you knew I had to stream before I said you could come over ya fuckin idiot.”
“Yea I knowwwww, I just wanted to spend more time with my super-hot best friend forever.”
Being the best friend of an online personality had its perks— the amazing trips you got to hitch a ride on, the adoring fans that seemed to latch on to you as well, the sponsorships that would always send you something along with the original PR package, and especially the way she was able to choose their own work hours.
Well... mostly.
As much as you adored spending time together during the day, whether it be shopping or going out for brunch, those late nights that always seemed to hold the most memories you held so dear were few and far between. Of course, you couldn’t blame her; responsibilities were responsibilities, and fuck if you’d let your selfish wants override the way she chooses to get her work done. You really couldn’t be one to judge either-- having to call off dates because you’d underestimated the time you needed to complete a school paper, or when a last-minute lab was called in and you’d have to leave her sitting alone in those cafes with your half-finished mocha and a promise to Venmo her the money to cover it later. What left you feeling the most guilty, though, was the fact that you weren’t able to watch her content as much as you’d like to. Sure, you’d catch a few minutes of a stream here and there but any time you spent apart was usually spent with your head buried in a book, mind bleary with countless espresso shots trying to keep your tired eyes focused on the seemingly unending work in front of you.
But, a distraction every now and then couldn’t hurt. Right?
Having had enough of your current assignment, any coherent thought was long gone, you’d decided to pay your favourite person a little visit. You knew she’d probably be busy as she hadn’t replied to your previous text for a few hours, but knowing her presence alone and any passing comments would lift the heaviness that had found its home in your head and chest, you shot her a message to let her know that her office couch would be occupied by you for the next few hours. Normally, you’d just show up so you knew she wouldn’t have a problem with it; so when that fateful message popped up on your phone giving you the go-ahead you completely ignored the warning of her work schedule and drove right over.
So now here you were, sprawled haphazardly on her couch clad in sweats and a sports bra scrolling through your phone as you watched her finish her final touches so she could start her stream.
“You’re gonna be in the background of my face cam if you wanna sit there y’know.” Groaning in response to her warning not wanting to move from the comfy spot you just found, you looked over at her with the best puppy eyes you could muster. She chuckled softly, raising her hands in surrender as she turned back to her setup. “Hey I really don’t care, just warning ya bug. The thirst comments and screenshots are outta my hands.”
Scoffing under your breath at her comment, you turned your head back to your phone as a Twitter notification popped up at the top of your screen.
Corpse Husband: streaming among us in a few mins, join in on youtube
Heartbeat picking up slightly, you scrambled for the purse you’d thrown at the base of the couch for your headphones. Ever since you’d found this handsome-voiced stranger’s channel on your late night horror binges, you had fallen completely in love. While you weren’t typically the type to watch video game commentary outside of Rae, his voice got you completely hooked and you couldn’t get enough of it. Yeah, maybe you were a bit of a simp, but that sweet and genuine personality that hid behind that gravelly tone had you melting completely into his clutches. You tried to convince yourself to get over it, you didn’t even know what he looked like. But, y’know, a little crush wouldn’t hurt anybody right?
“Going live in T-minus 30 seconds babe.” Jumping slightly as Rae’s voice knocked you out of dreamland, you mumbled out a small “got it” as you once again got focused on getting your headphones connected to your phone. You’d never been able to watch one of his lives before, his horror commentary videos usually playing as background noise as you did schoolwork or while you were falling asleep. Practically shaking with excitement, you opened your YouTube app seeing the live at the very top and tapping on it immediately only to be met with that sweet laugh ringing through your headphones like music to your ears. You grinned to yourself, grabbing the throw pillow you had previously tossed to the floor and hugging it to your chest while your eyes remained glued to your phone screen, completely forgetting what was happening around you as you zeroed in on the gravelly tone you’d fallen oh-so in love with.
“Hey (Y/N) wave hi.” You startled slightly as the faint voice of your friend sounded from across the room. Glancing up from your phone, you pulled an earbud from your ear and furrowed your brows at her before slowly processing what she said, lifting a hand in greeting to her watchers. She laughed at your confusing antics, turning slightly in her chair to look over at you. “What the hell are you so smiley about?”
“…Nothing..” You grinned widely as her laugh once again resounded around the room, shaking her head at you before turning back to her screen with a scoff, muttering something under her breath so only her watchers could hear. Smile still plastered across your lips, you settled back down into the comfiness of the couch and popped your earbud back in, zeroing in again on the screen in front of you. Watching as Corpse moved his character around the lobby as he waited for his friends to join, a small giggle escaped from under your breath; trying your best to be mindful of Rae’s stream but not being able to hold back the flustered feeling welling up in your chest, mind giddy with the thought of finally being able to see one of his famous live streams, well, live. It had only been a few seconds later when you heard Rae’s voice once again, only this time, not as muffled as before.
“What’s up motherfuckers.” Brows furrowing in confusion, you lifted your hand to your earbud and pulled it from your ear once again, hearing her voice from across the room but from your other earbud as well. No, there was no fucking way. All your questions were answered, though, as you glanced back down at your phone screen seeing a red character move around the game lobby along with Corpse’s, the gamer tag ‘Valkyrae’ floating just above it. Blinking hard at your screen trying to convince yourself that your eyes were lying to you, you slowly pulled your hand to cover your mouth in shock. How… How could you possibly not know they knew each other? With the way they spoke to each other in sarcastic comments, poking fun at the other it sounded like they were close too. Body finally catching up with your thoughts, you scrambled at your phone, shaky hands moving as quickly as they could to pull up your texts with Rae. Your fingers tapped furiously at the screen, anxious to get back to the live stream to listen in more but also needing to know what the fuck was going on.
TO my rae of sunshine: care to explain what the fuck is going on??! how the fuck do you know corpse husband?????!??!
“Oops sorry guys, guess I forgot to turn off my phone ringer-“ Staring up at the back of her head helplessly, you watched as she picked up her phone seeming to read out the text before bursting into a peal of laughter. Tossing a look at you over her shoulder, you looked back down at your phone bashfully, seeing the three loading dots in your message thread indicating that she was messaging you back.
my rae of sunshine: lol what about it? you gotta crush on him or something?
TO my rae of sunshine: …no
Hitting send you rushed back to the stream, anxious to see what Corpse was saying in response to Rae’s absence, not thinking anything about your brief conversation and thinking you would discuss it after she had logged off for the night. Though, as you heard her phone chime again from across the room followed by another bark of laughter, you knew you weren’t getting off that easy.
“What are you laughing about?” Corpse’s honeyed voice sounded from your earbud, hearing Rae’s giggles from what you presumed to be their discord voice chat. Glancing anxiously between his stream and the reflection of Rae’s face cam in one of her monitors, your heart began to sink as you watched that familiar mischievous grin tugging at the edge of her lips.
“Oh just my friend (Y/n) sent me a funny meme”
“Wait, is she the one in some of your Instagram posts?” You swear your heart stopped beating at that moment, eyes glued to the screen in front of you as you tried helplessly to process the conversation happening right in front of you. He knew who you were? You thought you’d always be lost among the hundreds of thousands of his new adoring fans, left in the anonymity of your Twitter tag in his subtweets, or just another subscriber that fawned over him silently behind a keyboard. Knowing that he’d actually seen your face you could feel your own beginning to heat at that moment; you brought your hands your mouth again, unknowingly curling your body tighter around the pillow in your lap as you tried to hide your face behind it as you become more and more flustered from the words nonchalantly escaping his mouth.
“Yea that’s her, pretty thing isn’t she? She’s my absolute favourite.”
That’s it, you were gonna fucking kill her.
“I mean, yeah... I guess..” The timid words followed by a soft awkward chuckle had your breath hitching in your throat. There was no fucking way this was happening. This had to be a dream, that was the only possible explanation. You were just about to pinch yourself when Rae’s voice startled you from your thoughts.
“She’s actually over right now. She insisted on getting wine drunk later tonight because her professor’s been on her ass lately. I’ll get her to come say hi.” Rae had barely turned around in her chair when she was met with your wide-eyed gaze, panic painted across your features as you shook your head wildly. You were in no state to be talking to your long-time internet crush in such a casual setting. But with the look Rae shot you from her chair as she started to plug another headset into her PC, you knew you had no choice and begrudgingly pulled yourself from the couch almost tripping over your own feet as you shakily walked over to Rae. Shooting her another pleading look, she only shoved the headset in your direction in return as she grinned up at you. Finally biting the bullet, you pulled on the headset and leaned down toward the mic.
“Hi, how’s it going?” Cursing at yourself for how quiet and shaky your words came out, you barely had any time to think it over before a chorus of greetings sounded through the headset. A small giggle escaped your lips as you watched the different Discord icons appear and disappear from the top of the screen. You knew most of these people already which made you even more confused as to how you managed to miss that voice from all the discord chats and voice calls. Well, knowing them was a bit of an overstatement anyway; you knew /of/ them, and they knew /of/ you in the other times you popped up in the background or in passing conversation during Rae’s streams. They did know you well enough, though, to know this was not the way you usually spoke around them.
“No way, that can’t be the (Y/N) I know!” The voice you recognize as Sean echoes through your headset, another chorus of knowing laughter following quickly after. Taking a deep breath you managed to force out a few words that would get them off your case.
“…Shut the fuck up”
“There she is!!” As the group erupted in laughter yet again, all you could focus on was the faint deep chuckle that resounded through your headset. Feeling your face start to heat up, you covered your wide grin with your hand as butterflies burst through your stomach; you could listen to that laugh all day. Before you were able to speak again, though, that heavenly voice piped up and wiped all train of thought from your mind.
“Nice to meet you (Y/N).”
“It’s nice to meet you too Corpse. I gotta be honest ‘n say I’m a pretty big fan of your no-sleep work.” And... there’s the word vomit. Fuck, you could feel your cheeks starting to heat up with the ongoing realization of who you were talking to.
“Aha thank you, I uh really appreciate that. I’m sure you just heard, but I guess you could say I’m a fan of yours also.”
No.
No, there’s no fucking way.
Is he...
Flirting with you?
Before you could even think about what to reply to that with, the rest of the group beat you to it.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what is happening.”
“CORPSE! You SIMP!”
“Is- Is Corpse really shooting his shot right now?”
You didn’t realize you were frozen in place until you felt Rae’s hand on your elbow, snapping you out of your bewildered trance as you tried to comprehend what was happening yourself. As your thoughts finally caught up to the present, you could feel your cheeks start to burn; pulling your hand up to cover your face you stepped out of the view of the face cam. Rae’s laughter filled the room as she watched your flustered antics, shooting you a sly grin as she started scanning the monitor displaying her live chat.
“Wait, wait, chats telling me (y/n)’s blushing right now?” Sean’s voice echoed through the discord chat, only making you flush further as you tried desperately to find a way out of this.
“Okay, okay, leave her alone.” Corpse’s voice finally piped up amid all of the chaos causing everyone to immediately pipe down. God, you didn’t even want to begin to think of the mess this has already made, you just needed to get out of there before you caused any more damage.
“Yeah, I uh- see- see that the lobby’s full so I’ll just uh- leave you guys to it.” Quietly thanking the stars that Corpse finally got you out of this mess, you went to pull the headset off your ears when that fateful voice piped up again.
“Wait, don’t let these nerds make you leave. You should stay- I mean, only to help Rae y'know? She needs it.”
“I do not!”
“I- I mean yea sure, as long as I’m not intruding,” Cursing yourself again for stuttering before forcing yourself to swallow the knot in your throat, “I mean, she really does need the help.”
“Okay just because you want to flirt some more doesn’t mean you can bully me-“
“Okay, I’m starting the round!” The booming accented voice cut off everyone else in the call as you all stared as the screen began to count down to the game, and before anyone had the chance to say anything else a chorus of laughs resounded, and then the lobby fell into silence.
•••
And it went on like that, the not-so-subtle flirting followed by relentless jabs from the group immediately after. The game was almost forgotten with how much of each lobby was taken up by teasing words and endless laughter, but every audience was just eating it up. You didn’t even want to think about the mess social media was going to be after this stream but right now you were having fun with your friends and that’s all that mattered. The grin was practically plastered on your face as you laughed along with Rae the chat during the gameplay portions and you knew everything from this moment on was gonna be different, but you couldn’t find a single thing within you to care.
Especially when you logged onto Twitter right after the stream and saw that little message right at the top of your requests.
@.corpsehusband: wanna hear some of that no sleep work in person?
•••
beep bop here u go,
#corpse x reader#corpse husband x reader#corpse imagine#corpse husband imagine#corpse x you#corpse husband x you
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♡My Prison Pen Pal♡
Helmut Zemo x reader
Word count: 1,802
Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family
A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers
@sorcerersofnyc
♡♡♡
His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.
You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).
You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.
Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.
It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.
There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.
Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.
You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.
Fuck.
You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.
So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?
You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.
And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.
Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.
No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.
Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.
Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.
Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.
At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.
You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.
You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.
"I know you're in there, the lights are on."
It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.
His smile was beautiful.
#zemo x reader#helmut x reader#helmut zemo x reader#baron zemo x reader#zemo#baron zemo#helmut zemo#tfatws
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Jumping off from my previous question/suggestion, might I please ask if there are any superheroes you think would make fine Pulp Villains and any Supervillains you think would make convincing Pulp Heroes?
I'm gonna go ahead and remark that I'd personally suggest to anyone who's trying to create pulp characters inspired by superheroes (which would be probably about 90% of you who may want to do that sort of thing) to flip the script around a little. As in, don't try to create pulp analogues to the Justice League/Avengers upfront, but play around with some of the lesser-known icons and filter those through your idea of what “pulp” means (which is gonna be quite different than my own or anyone else’s).
I’m not gonna really mention characters I’ve already talked about before like Vandal Savage or Namor, instead I’ll pick new ones and see what can be highlighted about them.
Regarding “Superheroes who could make fine/convincing Pulp Villains”, even though he’s a character I've read basically nothing on, Martian Manhunter definitely leaped out to me as an obvious option. He’s a Sci-Fi Superman who takes the first half of the name to an extreme that borders on comical, except he’s not a square-jawed white man, he’s a 1.000 year old green alien from Mars with shapeshifting powers who can look as monstrous as the artist desires. He’s the product of an advanced civilization and genetic modification, and on top of the Flying Brick powerset and shapeshifting, he also has incredibly powerful and extensive telepathic abilities, he can become invisible, phaze through matter, use telekinesis and other weird abilities. A lot of pulp stories closer to sci-fi were based around the idea of taking one of these abilities and extrapolating horrific consequences for them, and J’onn has those by the dozens. He also has an extremely mundane weakness that would allow him to be beaten by Macready with a blowtorch if that’s where the story ended.
He was also a law enforcement officer from Mars who became a police detective and it’s even right there in his name, and again, I have never read anything he’s in (I should probably pick the Orlando mini), I know he’s for all intents and purposes a generally nice man who tends to job a lot in crossovers and cartoons, but the idea of taking all those great vast and horrifying alien powers, combining all of them into a single character who also happens to be the last survivor of a doomed planet (and one who actually lived through it’s collapse), and then making that character a former cop trying to resume his work on Earth?
That is a Pulp Supervillain begging to happen, and a particularly horrifying one at that. And hey, speaking of The Thing-
Now, Plastic Man’s potential for horror has already been explored quite a bit in some of the darker DC continuities like Injustice and DCeased, and it’s quite funny seeing a lot of these turn Plastic Man into The Thing because there were quite a handful of Wold Newton pages that ran with the idea that Macready from the original story was Doc Savage, and that the secret chemicals that Eel O’Brian was hit by that gave him his powers were actually samples of The Thing contained in one of Savage’s labs. Regardless, the idea of a former street crook suddenly gaining bizarre shapeshifting abilities that allow him to reign terror on his gangster associates could make for a great premise as a pulp crime story that veers into horror as the gangsters gradually figure out what is Eel O’Brian’s deal, and then the story can take a more tragic turn.
The thing about Jack Cole’s Plastic Man that modern takes on the character neglect is that, while Plas was a lively roguish anti-hero (arguably the first of it’s kind in comics), he’s still for intents and purposes “the straight man” (HA, right, Plastic Man being “straight”). He’s the relatively sane hero who plays off Woozy’s wackier misadventures and the imaginative madness that Jack Cole paints his adventures with, and it makes for an interesting contrast considering Plastic Man is already a weird character, having to ramp up the strangeness of the world around him so that he still remains the sane man. There are ways to twist this into something quite horrifying, even tragic for Plastic Man as he either struggles to maintain coherency, or embraces the shifting chaos the world’s spiraling into for better or worse (and definitely for the worse towards those on the receiving end of his vengeance, or even his humor).
Now, onto the flipside, regarding Supervillains that could become Pulp Heroes -
Normally I’d not mention the Batman villains here, because I already have a lot to talk about in regards to them as is, they comprise some of my favorite comic characters, but I pretty much have to make an exception for Two-Face in this topic, as not only a pretty obvious option but one with even case studies to prove it, as not only do we have The Black Bat, a 1930s costumed pulp hero with an identical origin story and several other conceptual overlaps with Batman, as well as The Whisperer, a young hotshot police commissioner who dresses up as a disfigured vigilante to kill criminals without consequence (and who’s somehow less of a maniacal asshole in his secret identity than in his regular one), but it turns out that there actually was a 1910s pulp hero called The Two-Faced Man:
Crewe was created by “Varick Vanardy,” the pseudonym of Frederic van Rensselaer Dey (Nick Carter, Doctor Quartz), and appeared in three short stories and two novels and short story collections from 1914 to 1919, beginning with “That Man Crew” (The Cavalier, Jan. 24, 1914).
Crewe is “The Two-Faced Man.”
He is in his forties and has gray hair and a “sharply cut and handsome profile—until one caught a view of the other side of his face and saw the almost hideous blemish that nearly covered it, and which graduated in corrugated irregularity from a delicate pink to repulsive purple.”
Crewe is two-faced in another way. Crewe is a saloon owner in below Washington Square. But he has another identity: Birge Moreau, portraitist and socialite hanger-on. Crewe uses both his identities to solve crimes as an amateur detective.
The only person to know about both of Crewe’s identities is a police inspector who is also Crewe’s friend and who Crewe helps in pressing cases - The Encyclopedia of Pulp Heores by Jess Nevins
And speaking of obvious picks for Supervillains turned Pulp Heroes,
Assuming I even need to make a case for Kraven the Hunter other than just presenting this cropped panel from Squirrel Girl and in particular the art painted on the Kra-Van, or even just telling you to read Squirrel Girl and it’s take on “The Unhuntable Sergei” (I had no idea most of the people saying “Kraven’s arc in Squirrel Girl is as good if not better than Kraven’s Last Hunt” weren’t actually joking in the slightest and I speak as someone who has Kraven among their absolute favorite Marvel characters, it had no right being that good), I’m going to quote the brilliant Rogue’s Review from The Mindless Ones that lays down in painstaking detail why Kraven could make a killer protagonist in that horrifically over-the-top pulp fashion
One thing that strikes me writing this, is how well Kraven could hold his own comic. There’s always room for a book spotlighting a ruthless, hardcore, gentleman bastard, and Kraven’s raison d’etre makes him supremely versatile, so well suited to any genre, any environment. It’s odd that more writers haven’t jumped on the fact that in a universe where off-world travel is possible – indeed, common – a hunter like Kraven would have a field day.
I can just imagine the opening scene – herds of weird cthuloid bat creatures grazing in the gloomy green nitrogen fields, bathed in lethal, bone splintering fog, when, suddenly, LIGHT! from above and an unholy bellowing: “CTHGRGN fthgrgnARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHGN!”
They look up in fear and then they start to run – ploughing into and over each other, tentacles flailing, as from the space-ship’s docking bay Kraven silently plummets, barely dressed for the cold, a glowing knife smothered in elder signs jammed between his teeth.
You should have seen him one night previous, sipping alien tokay around the Captain’s table with the other guests, discussing the morning’s hunt; and the way he insulted the Skrull dignitary by forgetting himself and accidentally sporting his favourite piece of formal wear: his boiling unstable dinner-jacket of many colours, fashioned from the hide of one of the Ambassador’s super kinsmen.
Whoops!
Midway through Kraven explaining how the best way to irreparably damage a symbiote is to wait until its bonded with you and then seriously maim yourself, the Skrull decided it might be a good idea to simmer down, while his beautiful Inhuman lover hung on every word.
The deeper I get into this the more convinced I am that the MU’s hunter-killer extraordinaire wouldn’t limit himself to bloody planet Earth. And neither would he limit himself to this dimension, or universe or timeline. The guy’d be just as at home leaping, sword raised, onto the back of a T-Rex in the Savage Land, as he would be ploughing through werewolves in the graveyards of Arkham or tracking a howling Demon across Mephistopheles’ realm.
He’d work perfectly in all these environments because he has a damn good reason to be casting a bloody swathe through them: wherever there’s big game, you’ll find Kraven.
The next choice I guess is an oddball, but not that much of an oddball if you know already what is my main frame of reference towards Marvel
I don’t think people appreciate enough that the main reason Shuma-Gorath has anything resembling a fanbase has nothing whatsoever to do with the comics he was in, but entirely because, when Capcom designers had a list of Marvel characters to pick from to work on Marvel Super Heroes, they took a look at the diet Cthulhu and went “gimme THAT one”, and then went all-in in giving the alien squid monster a funky personality along with a great stage and music and animations and all that great fighting game character stuff, and now he’s maybe the most popular Dr Strange villain along with Dormammu and Mordo, despite having ZERO film appearences or major showings in comic sagas.
Capcom's designers redefined Shuma-Gorath from a nebulous cosmic evil into a comically smug cartoon bastard who can rant about devouring all dimensions and souls horrifically while also cracking poses and zingers like “How do you expect to win a fight with only two arms?” and having dinners with Dhalsim or hosting Japanese game shows in his endings, and it kills me that none of this ever made it’s way into any depictions of the character outside of MvC.
So that’s kinda what I’d go with. I’d take Capcom’s Shuma-Gorath, depower him a bit obviously from his canonical power, and run with the premise of his MvC3 ending where he decides that, well, if he's the unlikely savior of this pathetic planet and these wretched human dogs like him so much, and he’s clearly having a much better time here among them than he ever had drifting among the stars cealessly consuming life, then maybe he can take a break from all that eldritch business and keep up hosting the Super Monster Awesome Hour and maybe fight whatever PITIFUL villains think can take HIS planet. I mean, he’ll probably still end up destroying the planet by the end, but why not give this hero business a try?
Just until he gets his full powers back of course.
I mean you can’t deny he DOES look pretty good in that bowtie, surely The Great Shuma-Gorath wouldn’t be so unmerciful as to deny these vile wastes of flesh something good to look at in their brief and miserable lives.
#replies tag#marvel comics#marvel#dc comics#dc#pulp heroes#pulp villains#martian manhunter#plastic man#kraven the hunter#two-face#shuma-gorath#marvel vs capcom
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oh, honey || h. styles
warnings: mentions of sex, kissing
word count: 2.3k
summary: when harry is struck with writer’s block, you come to the rescue and inspire him to write a song, which later becomes known as ‘adore you’...
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t harbouring a crush on a man you’d known for about five years. And for four and half years of that, you found he was the only thing that seemed to occupy your mind. With any crush, it was fun at first. The thrill of being around him brought a new spark to your life. But then, gradually, it became tiresome; the constant butterflies and the overthinking every tiny action began to aggravate you.
You’d had a boyfriend since you met Harry. He loved you and you tried to love him. You knew it wasn’t fair on him, and you felt an ounce of extra guilt every day that relationship went on. You knew it was selfish to paint yourself a mirage of a perfect life with a man you knew you couldn’t love.
The relationship lasted eight months. It had never meant to last that long. At first, it was all fun and games - neither of you took things too seriously. A bit of harmless sex and late nights with red wine and David Attenborough documentaries. But then things took a turn, and he began talking of moving in together and meeting each other’s parents. Your parents would have loved him, you knew that. But what good was that when you didn’t love him?
Eventually, the two of you sat down and decided that maybe it was best if you went your separate ways. It was a mutual decision. And you both agreed that it was fun whilst it lasted. So, this relationship you’d gotten yourself into to get your mind off Harry had ended because you could never love this man the way he wanted you to.
It had been a rough eight months for you. Harry had been in somewhat of a mood with, well, everybody. Mitch concluded that he was probably just stressed with writing for the album and making sure everything was perfect for his debut solo album. But, though nobody necessarily picked up on it at the time, when you announced that you’d broken up with your boyfriend, Harry seemed to be in a much better mood ever since.
So, now, as you walked into the studio, you ran your hands along your jean-clad thighs. It was a desperate attempt to rid your palms of the sweat your nervousness had caused. Sarah had called you and asked if you were free to swing by the studio. She said something about needing a new mind to help Harry. Instantly, you agreed. You would always be there for Harry.
Sat on one of the couches was Harry Styles himself, his hand over his eyes. He was alone, his guitar beside him. A notebook of his lyrics was tossed aside, clearly neglected in tiredness or frustration. “Harry?” you called out, closing the door behind you.
He looked up quickly, startled by the sudden disturbance. “Y/N,” he smiled slightly, sitting up properly. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought you could use some help,” you shrugged, slipping out of your black puffer jacket. “And clearly you need it. Where is everyone?”
“Oh, they went to get some lunch at some place down the road,” he replied.
“And what about you? Aren’t you hungry? You need to eat, Harry.”
“I know. I will, I will. I’m just trying to finish this song, is all.”
You nodded slightly, sitting down in front of him on the coffee table. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were resting on top of dark bags. “Let me see,” you said, extending your hand.
Slowly, he placed the notebook into your hands. You stared down at the scribbled lyrics. Things were crossed out; things were circled; things were accompanied by little doodles. On the very top of the page, though, was the rushed title (above a few others, which had been crossed out): ADORE YOU. “I’m just gonna put it aside and come back to it,” he sighed. “Wanna get high? It always helps me write music.”
“No, Harry. I don’t want to get high with you. If you leave it, then you’ll never come back to it and nobody will ever get to hear it,” you replied.
“Except you. I want you to hear it,” he said quietly, so quiet, in fact, that you barely heard it.
He wasn’t looking at you, thankfully. At least he wouldn’t see the mix of nerves and excitement at what he’d just muttered. You shifted slightly, placing the notebook down beside you, “Well, then you’ll have to finish it, won’t you?”
Finally, he looked up at you. You felt tiny as his eyes explored your face, drinking in every last inch of your features. A small smile worked its way up onto his face, “I suppose I will.”
So, Harry began projecting his ideas onto you. He explained what the song was about and the kind of things he wanted to write. He sang the chorus to you, and you swore you melted right there and then. Hearing his voice fill the otherwise silent room you were in, with no other intent than to please you, filled your head with all sorts of fantasies. “It’s good, Harry. It’s really good,” you nodded, smiling sweetly at him.
“Obviously not good enough if I can’t think of anything other than the first verse and the chorus,” he groaned, raking his long fingers through his unruly hair.
In a moment of fleeting confidence, you reached out and squeezed Harry’s hand. He looked up at you, his green lagoons of eyes staring directly into your own. “Harry, stop. You’re doing yourself no good thinking like that. No songs start out as the greatest thing ever written; you have to put time and care and effort into them,” you said gently. “Let me help, Harry. I don’t want you to go through this alone.”
He nodded, squeezing your hand in return. He pulled out a pen and stared expectantly at you. You smiled - you were happy he was willing to let you help. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, eager to hear a new outlook on these lyrics he had grown sick of reading over and over again.
“Well,” you began, “it obviously has a sort of ethereal vibe to it. So, summer skies? Like, maybe something about ‘you under summer skies’?”
He nodded slowly, absorbing your suggestion. Until, suddenly, his eyes lit up. You knew the look. You’d seen it many a time before. It was the look he adopted whenever he’d been struck by the perfect slice of inspiration he needed to write an incredible piece of music. “You, Y/N, are a bloody genius! ‘Your wonder under summer skies’,” he grinned.
He scribbled the lyric down desperately. You couldn’t help but admire him as ideas escaped his brain and fell onto the paper before him. He finally looked back up at you, the page now littered with prompts and snippets of lyrics. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver,” he said.
You chuckled, “I didn’t do anything.”
“Well, you didn’t do anything for my other songs but they exist because of you,” he rushed out, clearly not comprehending his words. “Shit. Sorry, that- that didn’t mean to come out.”
You smirked. You had the power now, after four and a half years of falling in love with Harry Styles and making a massive fool of yourself in front of him. He’d slipped up and now you were in control. “Yeah? What songs did I unknowingly contribute to?” your confidence was rare, especially when it came to things like this, and yet here it was.
Unfortunately for you, Harry’s natural confidence matched your own. A playful grin swept up his features as he said, “Wouldn’t it be more fun for you to listen to the album and figure it out for yourself?”
“Or you could just tell me the titles?” you asked, your tone hopeful.
He hesitated for a moment, his confident smirk faltering for a split second. But, before you had time to say anything else, he said, “There’s this song called Sunflower, Vol. 6. I wrote that because your favourite flowers are sunflowers. And I wrote Cherry because I know you love cherries. And then there’s Golden, because that’s what you are, Y/N. And then there’s Watermelon Sugar because I know that In Watermelon Sugar is your favourite book. And now Adore You, because, I swear to God, Y/N, that’s all I want to do.”
He was rambling and you couldn’t help but smile. Whilst you’d spent your days rambling to your friends about how you were convinced you’d remain single forever if he didn’t happen to fall hopelessly in love with you, it appeared that he’d been writing down all the tiny details about you in his songs. Because it was true: sunflowers were your favourite flowers and cherries were your favourite fruit and In Watermelon Sugar was your favourite book.
He was staring at you now, his eyes searching your face for some sort of a hint on how you were feeling. When you said nothing, your lips parted slightly, he went on, “Hell, I wrote Cherry years ago. I wrote it when you were dating that guy... what was his name?”
“Ollie,” you replied quietly.
He knew what his name was. He never forgot. It had been two years but he’d never forgotten the eight months of hell where he had to watch you cuddle up to him and take him home after your group of friends had gone out for drinks. He didn’t know why he wanted to hear you say his name again. Some sadistic form of self-torture maybe, hearing another boy’s name on your lips. “Yeah, Ollie,” he played it off as if he really had forgotten your ex boyfriend’s name. “I wrote it when you were dating him. And I’ve been sitting on it for two years because I thought if I released it then you would know I’ve been in love with you for four years. But then I just thought ‘you know what, fuck it’, so I’m putting it on the album. And Anna, that was about you. But I’ll never officially release that one. Because I wrote it one night when I was alone and I couldn’t get you out of my head and I needed to tell somebody how I felt about you. Even if that was just a bit of paper. But then I played it to you, do you remember? And you loved it, so I swore to never release it because it felt like I’d confessed to you how I felt.”
As you listened to him ramble away about all of these songs he’d written about you and how much you clearly meant to him, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d dreamed of Harry confessing how much he, well, adored you. And you’d only ever thought it would be an occurrence in your fantastical dreams, and yet here he was, staring back at you, rambling on about how much he loved you. “Wait, Harry,” you spoke up, “isn’t ‘watermelon sugar’ something to do with oral sex?”
You chuckled as he flushed, “That’s besides the point.”
“And what is the point?”
“That I’m in love with you and, I pray to God, you’re in love with me back.”
Overwhelmed with joy, you couldn’t help but throw yourself at Harry. The feeling of his hands around your waist in a way that wasn’t just a slightly prolonged hug goodbye after a night out or a slightly overly flirtatious gesture of Harry’s felt electric. Harry’s hands on you in a way that was meant to be a moment of appreciation shared between two lovers was how it was always supposed to be.
After so long of knowing one another, falling for each other and sharing life changing moments, everything was finally slipping into place. You’d been there when One Direction first began their hiatus. You’d been there when he cut his hair off. You’d been there when he went to Jamaica to write his first solo album. You’d been there, albeit your eyes were shut most of the time, when he was dangling a thousand feet in the air for the Sign of the Times music video shoot. He’d been there when you finished university. He’d been there when you lost your mum. He’d been there when your sister had her first child. He’d been your date to your brother’s wedding. All of these things, and you couldn’t help but feel they mounted to this very moment.
You pulled your head back, admiring his face for a moment. Your arms were around his neck and everything just felt... right. His smile was bright and his eyes were full of nothing but loving joy. Without another moment’s hesitation, your lips were on his. You weren’t sure who leaned forward, but all you knew was that this was what you’d been waiting for for almost five years. And, now you were here, showing Harry how much you loved him, the wait seemed worth it. “We’ve got so much time to make up for,” he whispered.
“Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world then, isn’t it?”
He grinned, embracing your body. All he’d wanted to do for four years was to praise it. And now he finally had the chance to. That was until the two of you heard a voice behind you, “We only left for lunch!”
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