#*returns after a month of creation silence* so uh... hi? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alieinthemorning · 6 months

Text

Lukanette Month 2019 | Week One | Firsts

Content: Fluff, Angst, Canon Divergence, Aged-Up Characters

Pairing: Viperion | Luka Couffaine/ Ladybug | Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Header: @/katydoodles on Tumblr

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Sunday September 1st, 2019 - First Day

When Marinette first met Luka, it was when she decided to help Ivan, Juleka and Rose with their band. They invited everyone in class to either come and help or come for the show. Which of course meant Adrien was invited and he told them that he was going to come and help (he had somehow gotten his father to agree)! Marinette was so excited for him to be there, but as it got closer and closer he hadn’t even sent a text.

Marinette sighed. “He’s not here yet.”

“No worries girl.” Alya slung an arm around her shoulders. “The gig hasn’t started yet.”

“What if he doesn’t know Juleka’s address? Or he got the wrong day? Or he’s lost?” Marinette listed off all the reasons as though why Adrien was late. “Could you check with Nino please? You know, of course, just… casually.” She pressed her fingers together, embarrassed.

Alya roller her eyes then called out to Nino. “Hey Nino, have you heard from Adrien, by any chance?”

Nino looked up from what he was doing as he adjusted his cap. “He had something to do his old man. He said he’ll come right after.”

Alya turned back to Marinette with a knowing look. The pigtailed girl flushed and released an unsteady giggle.

“Capitaine Anarka speaking to ya! So how’s it coming along me young pirates? Ready to celebrate the-” She looked at Marinette then adjusted her glasses. “Whatcha up to, there, matey?”

Marinette jumped, almost dropping the box that was in her hands. “Uh, hello ma‘am. I’m cleaning up for tonight! Your boat’s gonna be clean as a whistle!”

“You’re cleaning!” Anarka let out a deep belly laugh. “We never pick up ‘round this house! Didn’t me daughter tell ye?” She gestured to the boat. Taking a look around, Marinette notice how messy the boat actually was. “We like the lived-in look. We have no rules on The Liberty! Out of chaos comes creation! Messiness is life.” And with that, she strutted off.

“That was… interesting.” Marinette gave an unsure smile to Alya who returned it with a shrug.

Nino’s ringtone announced itself in the silence. Marinette knew that ringtone. She knew exactly who it was for and she felt her heart breaking before he even answered. “Wassup dude?...Wow, what happened?... Whoa, that’s real rough. Good luck dude, see you tomorrow!” He hung up and turned to the girls.

“That was Adrien wasn’t it.” Marinette could feel her heart sinking deep into her chest. “He can’t come.”

Nino nodded and Marinette sighed.

Rose approached Anarka and saluted. “We’re ready Capitaine! Uh… but Luka is missing.”

“Marinette, is it?” Ararka faced her. “Since you’re free of ye cleanin’ duties, could you go and fetch Luka?”

“Of course. Uh, but who’s Luka? And where is he?”

“Luka’s my son, you’ll find him in his cabin.”

Marinette nodded and headed below deck, peeking into rooms until she heard the sound of a guitar being plucked. Without thinking she pushed the door open. When she set eyes upon the boy who sat on the bed she let out a startled gasp. “Uh!’

“Hey, my name’s Mama—uh Mamamarinette!” Anymore stuttering and she’d bite off her tongue. “Your mom sent me down here. The groove—uh… group’s waiting for you.”

“Hello, Mamamarinette.” He chuckled.

Marinette’s face fell. She’d only known him for a few seconds and she had already made a fool out of herself. Seems like that was all she’d be known for.

“Sorry. I tend to make more sense with this.” He strummed a few cords his guitar. “That’s strange. It seems you have something like this in your heart.” He continued the melody.

“How do you do that?” Marinette almost slapped a hand over her mouth but held back. It’s fine to ask questions, she reminded herself.

“Music is often simpler than words.” He reached over and grabbed a familiar looking guitar pick.

“You like Jagged Stone’s music?”

“He’s my favorite singer.”

She smiled. “Mine too.”

He held the pick out to her. “You can have it if you like. I’ve got plenty.”

“Wow! Thanks!” She plucked it from his hands.

“I think I’d better go join the… groove, you said?”

Marinette flushed. “Did I really say that?”

Luka laughed. “You’re a funny girl, Marinette.”

A little flutter kicked up in her tummy.

She liked his laugh.

Monday September 2nd, 2019 - First Concert

She must have followed Luka in a daze because the next thing she knew she was being shaken by Alya. “Are you okay girl?”

Marinette nodded. “Mhh-hmm.”

“Ho, ho, sailors! Let’s give them a show! Whenever your ready, Luka!”

Mylene walked over and handed them earplugs. “You’re going to need these, believe me.”

Luka strummed his guitar loudly. At least that’s what Marinette assumed because she could still hear him through the earplugs. She took them out, however, when Officier Raincomprix pulled up beside the boat.

“Mme. Anarka, are you completely out of your mind? I’m reading one hundred sixty decibels! That’s ten times the sound of a jet engine! You can’t do this. You’ll have to play something else!”

“It’s the National Music Festival today, Officer Roger! My crew’s allowed to play whatever they want!”

“It’s a music festival, not a noise festival. If you don’t turn the volume down, I’ll ban your concert altogether!”

Marinette spoke up. “Uh, maybe we could turn the volume down a bit, Capitaine? Then there’d be no more problems, right?”

“No, out of the question. I didn’t name my galleon Liberty for nothing, you know! It’s a matter of principle! Haven’t you heard of speech, Roger? This is me home! I will do as I want!”

As they got into a heated argument, Marinette slowly slinked away from the scene. She knew Anarka was going to be akumatized and that there'd be no stopping it, if her attitude was anything to go by. It’d be easier to just be ready then to possibly get captured, so with that thought, Marinette transformed then zipped off to the nearest building behind the boat.

Moments later the boat was covered in dark purple smoke. She didn’t think the whole boat would be effected. She returned, gasping as chains wrapped around the passengers and dragged them below deck.

“Liberty! Fire!” The cannons fired at the bridge destroying it and clearing the path ahead.

“This isn’t good.” She threw her yoyo at the railing and slid in threw an open port hole on the side.

“Ladybug!” Alya called.

“Shhh!” She crouched down. “What’s the situation?”

“Juleka and Luka’s mom was akumatized because Officer Roger gave her a lot of tickets.” Alya explained.

“She didn’t care about the tickets… it was more so about the freedom.” Juleka softly spoke up.

Ladybug nodded. “Okay. Did anyone see where the akuma flew into?”

“The compass.” Luka answered.

Ladybug smiled. “Thanks. I’ll have everything back to normal before you can say ‘Ladybug’!”

Easiest way to get it done was from the outside rather than trying to sneak up top. She went back out the way she came then shimmed her way to the back of the boat. She almost jumped a foot in the air when something thudded beside her.

“M’lady.” Chat Noir nodded his head.

She nodded back. “Chat.”

“What’s the situation?”

“It’s a battle for freedom.” She nudged him to the left as Aranka moved closer to their location. “See that compass over there? The akuma is over there.”

“Cataclysm?”

“Cataclysm. I’ll give you an opening.” She snuck across the left side of the boat and waited until Aranka’s back was turned.

“Hey! Capitaine!” Ladybug shouted.

Aranka spun on her heel and glared. “How did you get on my ship?”

Ladybug took another step to left. Aranka followed and took a step to the right. “Why are you destroying public property?”

She just had to get the compass out of her peripheral. She watched as Chat Noir slinked closer and closer to the compass, Cataclysm at the ready.

“It goes against me freedom. The freedom of the Liberty!” She took a threatening step forward. “As long as this ship sails, so does freedom.”

“Well I’m sorry to tell you but it looks like the sails of the Liberty to lose their winds! Now Chat Noir!” At her call, Chat Noir touched the compass, having it rust and crumble into nothing.

“Noo!” Aranka ran at Ladybug but as soon as the akuma was out of the compass Ladybug snapped it up and purified it.

“Bye bye, little butterfly.” She thrusted her yoyo in the air. “Miraculous Ladybug.” The little ladybugs repaired all the damage the Liberty caused.

Ladybug and Chat Noir pounded fist. “Pound it!”

Anarka looked up at the two. “What happened?

“Oh not much, you just had a bout of… Seasickness.” Chat Noir’s Miraculous beeped. “Time to raise the sails my lady.” He pounced away.

Ladybug gave Anarka a wave as the previous captures came above deck. “Enjoy your gig, bug out!” She jumped off the boat, seemingly disappearing but actually hanging on the side. She made her way to an open port hole and slide her way into the bathroom.

“Spots off.” She opened the door and peeked into the hallway.

“Marinette?” Luka called her from down the hall.

She fully stepped out into hallway. “Y-yeah. I came down here earlier and hid during the akuma attack. Everyone okay?”

Luka sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, everyone is fine.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Come on. We’re about to start.”

Marinette smiled and followed after him.

The concert was amazing. Surprising but amazing. And Adrien was there so that made the day the best ever!

But… her gaze kept drifting to Luka. Her heart being played by the strings of his song.

Tuesday September 3rd, 2019 - First Fashion Show

Marinette’s nerves were frayed, but she was pumped. After a push from her parents, Alya and Tikki, Marinette entered a fashion show and was accepted. She immediately began sketching up designs that would go with the theme: Synthesia. Each contestant was to choose a song and design an outfit that match with what colors they believed were associated with that song.

Marinette had an advantage since she did actually have synthesia, so of course she choose her favorite Jagged Stone song. However, she noticed her colors started to shift after the first few listens. They went from their usually purples and black to shades of blue, and the one person who reminded her of so many shades of blue was…

Luka

She shook her head, leaving to deal with it later and continued working on her designs.

Hours later she was in a large room filled with rolls of fabric, spools of ribbon and boxes upon boxes of beads, jewels and other knick knacks.

Just as she put the finishing touches on her work, the contrast director walked in. “Hello everyone! Are you almost done with your designs?” The crowd muttered a mix response of mostly “almost done". “Well then, I think your ready to hear about the surprise!” She paused for dramatic effect. “You’ll be modeling your designs!”

“What?!”

She nodded. “Yep! Why do you think the models had the same exact measurements as you?” She clapped her hands once. “Well, we’ll be on in two hours. Enough time for hair, make-up and any finishing touches. Good luck!” And with that she left.

Marinette took a deep breath. She already had her suspicions, so she had been doing certain alterations to fit her specifically. She exhaled then moved to a vacant vanity to get started on her prep as she looked for make-up inspiration on Instagram.

“And now Marinette Dupain-Cheng walking to Blue Waves by Jagged Stone!”

Marinette took a deep breath then let a smile graced her features as she stepped out onto the runway. She kept her eyes straight but from her peripheral she was able to see Jagged tapping his boot to the beat of his song with Penny right by his side, tapping her own foot. Her parents recording the whole thing with dropped jaws, her friends sitting in the crowd with their own looks for awe.

And him.

Luka.

The boy who had inspired it all.

Wednesday September 4th, 2019 - First Blush

“Thanks for taking me out, Bridgette.”

“No prob, Mari. You deserve it.”

Marinette and her cousin, Bridgette, were out and about and had decided to stop by Andre’s to get some ice cream. Marinette immediately knew what the ice cream flavors represented, but she chose to ignore it.

“I’m serious Mari. You’ve been doing better since you’ve moved on past him.” Marinette hummed. “Seems like Andre’s noticed too.”

Marinette looked away. “O-oh really? I didn’t noticed.”

Bridgette laughed. “You’re way too smart to have noticed, Mari. You totally like Luka.”

Marinette felt her cheeks redden. “No I—!”

“Oh hey! Luka!” Bridgette called. Mariette whipped her glowing head face around and almost bolted from the spot. Of course Luka was only standing a few feet from them.

He smiled and approached them. “Hey… Bridgette, right?”

“Yep!” She nodded then turned to Marinette with a pout. “Jeez, Mari! I thought you’d talk about your most favorite cousin with your friends!” Marinette stumbled for a response.

Thankful Luka answered for her. “Oh no, she’s definitely mentioned you before. I just have a little hard time remembering names.” Luka rubbed the back of his neck as he gave her a sheepish smile.

“Oh well then that’s fine.” Her phone vibrated. “Whoopsie.” She checked the message then turned to Marinette with a guilty look. “Looks like Felix needs me for something.”

“Oh yeah, yeah. Sure. Go see what’s up.”

“Thanks Mari!” Bridgette bolted faster than Marinette thought was necessary.

“Hey, Marinette.” Mariette gripped the ice cream cone, cursing both her cousin and Felix for their terrible timing.

She’d get them back later. “Yes, Luka?”

“You wanna go to the park with me?” Marinette eyes widen by a fraction when she caught the familiar pink tinge his cheeks.

She smiled despite her hammering heart. “Sure.”

As they walked to their destination, their hands brushed against each other until Luka pulled her hand into his.

She just about fainted.

Thursday September 5th, 2019 - First Touch

He held her hand the entire time they were in the park and even now as they mindlessly walking around the city.

“So, where to next?”

“N-next?” He still wanted to hang out?

Luka nodded slowly. “Yeah… unless you have something to do.”

“Nonono!” Marinette furiously shook her head. “I just don’t know where to go next...”

Luka hummed. “Maybe we could go to a music store?”

Marinette nodded. “That seems like fun.”

They listened to a lot of music that was primarily by Jagged Stone. Marinette was surprised at the light the filled Luka’s eyes as listened to a new song. He would babble on and on about certain parts and things he would add and change.

Next, they headed to a pet store where Marinette gushed over the hamsters. Unbeknownst to her, Luka was giving her the softest smile.

Finally, he took her to a hole in the wall diner. Everyone there seemed to know him really well, so the atmosphere was light and fun. It finally allowed her red cheeks to take a break.

On the walk home, their hands rejoined and swung lightly between the two of them.

Friday September 6th, 2019 - First Kiss

It was later in the evening when Marinette has finally returned home with Luka. She had an amazing time and honestly Marinette wanted to have the day play on repeat so she could do it again and again.

Luka stopped short but a few steps away from the store. “I’ll see you around?”

Marinette gave him her brightest smile and nodded. “Of course!”

Luka leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you around Mamamarinette.”

Marinette lifted a hand to her cheek and stood frozen for what felt like years. Finally she made the few steps home after Tikki snapped her out of the trance.

When she entered her room she almost spun on her heel and went right back out.

Bridgette was giving her the smuggest look.

“Shut it.” Marinette hissed. “One word and I swear to—”

“I promise on our sistership.”

“You better.”

Saturday September 7th, 2019 - Second Chance

Marinette stared at the box on her desk which contained a Miraculous.

Specifically the Cat Miraculous.

She really hated to think about it. How everything seemed to fallout.

Was it her— was she to blame?

No… it couldn’t be. She set her boundary and he crossed it. He wasn’t able to comprehend the responsibility of being a hero of Paris. He wasn’t able to respect her as a person. He put her on such a high pedestal that he didn’t know how to act.

And as much as it hurt.

It had to happen.

But that’s in the past and this is the present.

“Tikki, spots on.”

She had to go find her new partner.

“Luka Couffaine.”

“Ladybug? What are you doing here?”

She gazed into those beautiful blues that now captured her heart. The beat changing from a fast set thump to a steady bump.

But she couldn't let her heart dictate everything.

But… she knew Luka. She knew that he is someone who is loyal, smart and cunning.

That he is the rightful owner of the Cat Miraculous.

Ladybug took a deep breath. “Luka Couffaine, this is the Miraculous of the Cat, which grants the power of Destruction. This power shall only be used for the greater good. I present this Miraculous to you. Do you accept this power?”

“Of course, My-.” Ladybug’s eyes widen.

Not that.

She didn’t want to hear those words again. “-mamarinette.”

Ladybug gasped. “H-how did you?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” He smiled as he took her free hand in both of his. “You’re an extraordinary girl, Marinette. As clear as a musical note and as sincere as a melody. You’re the music that’s been playing inside my head since the first day we met. Mask or not.”

Ladybug gave him a watery smile. “Thank you, Luka.”

Thank you for being my second chance.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie series: lukanette month 2019 #lukanette month 2019 #lukanette #luka x marinette #long post

0 notes

shreddedparchment · 3 years

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.15

Stressed

01/16/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,747

Warnings: angst, jealousy, anxiety, talks of pregnancy, conception troubles

A/N: I’m sorry this came so late and that it’s taking me time to get these out. I’m writing very slowly right now and I only have my brain to blame. I’m finding it so hard to focus right now and I’m not sure why. I’ve gotten away from my usual habit of writing when I wake up and before I go to sleep. Hopefully, I’ll get back to normal soon. I hope y’all like (hate?) this chapter! Things will start to get tough from here on out. I hope y’all will stick with me through it. xoxo

“Well, I’ve got to get back to my girls. Some of them have taken to sneaking out at night in an attempt to earn their wings. If I catch them, I get to make them do whatever I want and I’m not going to lie, it’s the best part of my day.”

Hilde smiles at you, and you try to give her a returning social exchange with the same energy but your mind and eyes keep drifting back to the astronomer across the room currently chatting with Bruce and Tony animatedly about something scientific that you don’t understand.

“Are you seriously stressing about her?” Hilde asks, exasperated with you already.

“No,” you answer with your feathers obviously ruffled. “I’m not.”

Hilde clearly doesn’t believe you as she skews her lips and tilts her head.

“I’m not!”

You say it too loudly and the trio on the other side of the table turn to look at you.

“Not what?” Tony asks, brow furrowed a little with curiosity.

“She’s not tired,” Hilde covers. “How about a tour from Her Majesty?”

“Uh, yeah, I can give you all a tour of the palace. It’s really big.”

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “No tour for me. As fun as following you around while you brag about how much bigger your house is than mine sounds, I just spent weeks in the trenches and I’m going to try and get some sleep or Pepper will ground me and won’t let me come out and play. So, I think, good night?”

“Right. Of course, yeah. Estrid?” You call out to the two large open doors.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Estrid hurries into view, giving you a quick curtsy before standing with her hands at her front.

“Can you show Mr. Stark-”

“Really?” he asks, incredulous.

“Sorry, habit,” you laugh nervously. “Can you show Tony to his room, please? And Bruce?”

“Uh, yeah. I’d love some sleep,” he nods, rubbing his chest with one hand in slow circles.

“And Bruce as well,” you nod to Estrid who gives you another curtsy.

They all begin to stand, shoving their chairs back in under the table and taking a last drink.

“And…” with odd trepidation, you look at your husband’s very recent former lover and try not to feel too overwhelmed. “Jane?”

“No, actually I was hoping I could speak with you?”

She takes a step towards you, hands pulled to her front as she fidgets with the tips of her fingers for a second then drops them at her sides.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Thank you, Estrid. When you’ve escorted the gentlemen to their rooms, come find me so that you can show Jane hers when she’s ready.”

“Very good, Your Majesty,” Estrid nods, another curtsy before she turns to Bruce and Tony who now look nervous too as they give you and then Jane inquisitive looks. “This way, gentlemen.”

As Estrid disappears into the hallway, Tony and Bruce follow slowly leaving you, Hilde, and Jane to stand awkwardly in the smaller of the two dining rooms in the palace.

“Should I stay?” Hilde wonders, inching a little closer to you and reaching out to grab your elbow.

“Hm? No. It’s okay. But if you’re going-?”

“Your Majesty,” Heimdall’s warm voice fills the space strangely washing over you with a soothing calm.

Something about Heimdall always makes you feel at ease and the night suddenly seems very bearable.

“Heimdall will be taking over your care until Thor returns, is that alright?” Hilde checks, sounding genuinely worried.

“Will I do, Your Majesty?” Heimdall asks, his voice a gentle teasing.

“Of course, Heimdall!” your huff of a laugh pulls from him a gentle chuckle and he moves around towards you to draw your hand up to his lips.

It’s a genuine sign of respect and it warms your heart.

“Alright, well, I’m off. I will see you tomorrow, Your Majesty. Jane.” Hilde gives her a nod and quickly slides from the room eager to catch her troops out of bed.

Heimdall makes his way towards Jane and as she turns to him, she smiles wide, “Heimdall, it’s so nice to see you again.”

“Jane Foster,” he says her name in full though it doesn’t sound as if he’s being formal.

In fact, they sound pretty close.

“It has been quite a while.” They hug and your heart gives a strange uncertain clench. “How are you?”

“I’m good, all things considered,” Jane says.

All things considered? What things considered?

“Yes, well…” Heimdall leaves his words hanging there, full of meaning that you don’t understand and suddenly the warmth his greeting had left you with is gone and in its place is a sense of intrusion.

Jane was the Queen they had all been expecting. Suddenly feeling dismal, you turn away from their reunion to fill up your fancy silver cup with wine and take a nice long drink.

Without turning back around to look at her because in the moment you can’t really bear it, you address her and hope that your voice doesn’t give you away.

“What was it that you wanted to speak to me about, Jane?”

Hopefully it has nothing to do with Thor or you might just lose your head a little. While a part of you would very much like to bury the hatchet and put everything that happened with her and Thor in the past behind you, in this moment, the last thing you want to do is talk about how she is or was the love of his life.

That you know, right?

This is all so fucked.

“I was actually just wondering if you had a space that I could set up my equipment? Somewhere with clear access to the sky is preferable, and lots of space? I’ll need to set up my equipment to show Thor--and yourself what I’ve been seeing the last few months.”

You can hear it in her voice that she added you as an afterthought. She came to show Thor. To see him?

You hate this sudden insecurity growing inside of you, this second guessing that didn’t even exist until she walked into your home tonight.

Are you thinking too much? Is this wrong of you? Thor is your husband. He loves you. He says it every day. Several times a day because he knows you need to hear it. He physically shows you, also several times a day if he can. Just today, in the hallway downstairs…

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts, pulling you from your thoughts.

You dismiss his concern without acknowledging it because it’s in his all-seeing eyes. Instead, you focus on Jane.

“I have the perfect space. It’s a bit of a walk. I mean, it’s still on palace grounds, just a bit further up the hill behind us. But it’s an observation tower Loki was having built probably for this exact reason.”

“Perfect,” she smiles, then moves to her chair to pick up a large brown bag you hadn’t noticed she’d brought in here with her. “After you?”

Heimdall follows behind the two of you and Jane follows a step behind as you lead her out of the palace back entrance which is hidden behind a smaller room behind the throne room.

The night is chilly and you wrap your arms around yourself and regret the shorter choice of dress.

Jane also seems to shiver for a moment but her own clothes are more tailored to the weather outside than yours is. Her shiver passes.

“Do you enjoy living here?” she asks.

For a moment you don’t realize she’s talking to you, then when no one else answers, you start and quickly clear your throat.

“Yes, I do. I mean, it’s cold a lot. I’ll be glad when Summer’s here. Spring is also kind of on the chillier side.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, as if she’s been here often.

The silence after her affirmation grows tense and your heart begins to pound as your mind goes into a flurry of what she might have gotten up to here in New Asgard before you’d come into the picture.

Warmth suddenly envelops you and you turn to look at Heimdall as he places his dark cloak over your shoulders.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” you gasp, reaching up to pull the cloak around yourself more tightly.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Heimdall nods, “It’s my honor.”

The terrain suddenly grows more rugged and Heimdall is quick to offer you his arm as you adjust your steps to accommodate the rockier path.

You make a mental note to have this pathway fixed. Smoothed out and maybe even given a railing as it gets steeper.

The only thing you can hear is the sound of three pairs of feet trudging along shifting stone and dirt then a softer step as the hill evens out a bit more and becomes covered in grass.

When you don’t have to look down at where you’re stepping anymore, you look up at the tower that looms ahead.

The base is made of heavy stone, each placed with precision and reinforced with steel supports. Wooden beams line each of the corners, decorated with carved images of what you can only assume are Asgardian moments in history.

When you’d come to see its progress at the beginning of its creation, you’d recognized the images of Thor and Odin in battle just above the beam that lines the doorway.

The rest of the tower is a mix of wood, stone, and iron. The aesthetic is very much like the palace, Asgardian curves and shapes fit into more modern Norse lines.

The three of you stop as you reach it and Heimdall hurries forward to throw the large door open.

As you step through, you see that the inside of the tower has not changed much since the last time you came to inspect it.

The bottom floor is a large empty room with only a fireplace against the back wall, exposed rafters up above before the height is cut short by the ceiling.

“Wow,” Jane does sound impressed, “This is great. Is there a-?”

“Upstairs,” you point towards the staircase to the right that rises up around the side of the room. “There’s another room, smaller, but it has a lot of balcony space.”

“Great! Thanks,” she sighs with relief as if she really didn’t expect you to give her some space to work, then heads towards the staircase.

“Um, there’s no furniture in here yet. I’ll have someone bring you some tables and chairs, is there anything more specific that you need?”

Jane stops at the foot of the stairs then turns to look at you and then the space of the bottom floor.

“Would it be possible to get a bed in here? You’re right, and it is a long way from the palace. I’m gonna be in here probably all the time so…?”

You know that she isn’t asking for the impossible or anything out of the question, but suddenly the idea of making this tower her little space has a whole other life playing out in your head.

A life where you had married Thor and he had been unable to give up Jane. A life of her living here at the palace with you in her own space where Thor can come and be with her in private away from prying eyes while still giving the appearance of being with you, his Queen in name only.

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts you quietly, reaching out to touch your elbow again and pull you from the pain and panic you’re trying to hide.

You force a smile, a small shake of your head, “Yes, of course. Sorry, I’ve had a busy day. I’ll have them bring you everything you need within the hour.”

“Thank you. Once I have everything set up I’ll make sure to show you what I’ve found and then Thor can um, plan for what might come?”

“Of course,” you agree, eager to get the hell out of here and back to your room where you can fall apart in private. “Now, I hope you’ll excuse my bad hosting skills, but I really am super tired and I think I’m going to turn in a little early.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! No problem at all,” Jane smiles, “Thank you for all your help. And dinner! Dinner was so good. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. I’ll let Cook know,” you nod, hoping that your smile isn’t too tense for the moment. “Good night.”

“Night!”

You’re almost grateful for the cold night air as it bites the skin of your cheeks. Anything is better than the stress you just felt in that tower.

You hear the heavy door of the tower close behind you, then Heimdall’s footsteps join your own though your heavy breathing is alone as he walks calmly beside you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Heimdall wonders, gentle and honestly concerned.

“I’m fine,” You lie.

“Does having Jane Foster here bother you? There is no need for you to worry. I have seen Thor be with many women-”

“Oh, my God,” and you can’t help but huff a laugh. “Not helping, Heimdall.”

“-and I have never seen him be with anyone the way he is with you. It’s more than just love. It's a partnership. Companionship. It’s friendship. Trust. After their initial reconnection, Thor’s trust in Jane and their courtship dwindled and as you know, by the end, it was completely gone.”

“So, what you’re saying is he’s so sure that I love him that he has no reason to worry?”

Which is true, you do and he has no reason to worry about you not loving him or falling for someone else at this point. You can’t even imagine being with anyone the way you’ve been with Thor.

“He’s not afraid to lose me?” You hate giving into these thoughts.

Honestly though, talking about them to someone will help you sleep tonight. Maybe.

“Yes,” Heimdall agrees. “And no. Even now, this very moment, all he can think of is you.”

You stop walking, stunned by his words because you’ve never asked him to look for you. You’ve heard Thor ask him to see things before, to search, and Heimdall always has. It had never crossed your mind to do the same.

Then again, this is the first time you and Thor have been apart since before you were married.

“What-You can see him?” Heimdall looks down at your feet, focuses what must be his mental eyes, and then slowly nods.

“He’s distressed at leaving you here alone, he’s finding it hard to focus on what Fandral is telling him and Fandral is growing more and more upset.”

You smile, completely absorbed by this information.

“Did he ever ask you to look for her? For Jane?”

Your words are quiet, hesitant, though your heart feels slightly more at ease by Heimdall’s reassurance.

“In the very beginning of their courtship, just after he left Earth and the bifrost was destroyed. Their love was new then. It was short-lived. Then Thor came back to Earth and they were able to be together, for a time.

“But their compatibility has always had its trials. After some time together, Thor was called back to the Universe and Jane had her own work to do. Their responsibilities have always pulled them apart and if I’m honest, Thor is the more hopeless romantic between them.”

You think about all of the small things that Thor has done for you since you came back home. The flowers, the baths, surprise dinners, the small presents hidden under your pillow or in drawers he knows you’ll get into. He’s done a lot more to show you he’s thinking about you during the day than you have and you can understand what Heimdall is saying.

You’re not so much a gift giver in love it seems, and instead give him all of the affection he’d seemed so starved for in the beginning.

“Her being here will not damage your marriage. Trust me.” Heimdall finishes.

You lead the walk again, moving slower but calmer after Heimdall’s reassurance.

“Will you come back up and check that Jane gets everything she needs? We really should have had the tower set up a long time ago.”

“As soon as I am certain you are in your quarters safe, with a guard outside your door, yes. I can ensure that she has everything that she requires.”

For a few minutes you walk in silence, at ease. When you reach the back doors of the palace however and he holds the doors open for you, you turn to Heimdall and after a quick bite to your lip, “Is he still with Fandral?”

Heimdall smiles and nods, “Fandral is yelling at him for not paying attention.”

Both of you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s so early when you wake. It’s still dark outside and you’re almost sure that sunrise is still a few hours away.

You’re exhausted. Eyes burning as you push yourself up and the night plays itself over.

So suddenly you’re anxious again, nerves making your fingertips tingle and your stomach do an uncomfortable flip as you turn over onto your back to look at Thor’s side of the bed.

It’s undisturbed. Both pillows are still in their made up position.

He said he’d be back very late at night, early morning at the latest. You’d been hoping for the former.

With a groan, you sit up, sliding slowly down to the end of the bed and the bench where Thor sits to put his boots on.

You’re so groggy. The night was restless and you’ve really only gotten about an hour of sleep. Two at the most.

It’s stuffy in the room, the fire still burning and leaving you a little sticky from being huddled underneath a heavy blanket because you’d missed the weight of Thor’s arms all night.

The large glass doors across from you rattle from the wintry breeze outside, beckoning you forward for relief from this heat.

As you step on the floor, your body is rocked with a shiver that pushes you up onto your toes. As fancy as this palace is, you’ll have to ask Thor if it’s possible to get some heated floors installed.

Moving as quickly as you can, you don’t stop until you’re at the doors and then thrust them open and absolutely inhale the frigid late night air.

You scan the distant ocean as it spreads into the horizon, the sky it touches still an inky black with a breathtaking scattering of stars.

You can hear the Valkyrie below in their barracks and training grounds already working hard to get into shape. Hilde must have really caught them sneaking out.

Heimdall should be waiting close by. You really want to see if he has news about Thor’s schedule and if maybe he’s on his way home and just running late.

As you turn to walk back into the room, you freeze as your eyes scan the tower you’d set Jane up in.

From this angle you have a clear view of the balcony. She’s already set up her equipment. You didn’t know that you could see this well into the tower.

It’s all lit up like a beacon in the dark.

It’s an unpleasant reminder that she’s here and you make a mental note to keep the curtains drawn when you know she’s up there. Which you realize that unfortunately, will probably mean all the time.

Sighing, you move towards the door but then freeze again as Thor moves from the balcony doorway towards a large telescope attached to what looks like heavily modified computers.

He’s still in uniform, smiling. Behind him, Jane follows, arms wrapped around herself before she stops too close to Thor for your liking.

She rushes around him and looks through the eyepiece. You can see her talking away, mouth moving at the speed of light as she explains something to him, her hands flying around her as she talks, apparently the cold is forgotten.

She pulls away from the telescope as Thor chuckles then moves back inside out of sight as Thor sidles up to the eyepiece but doesn’t touch it yet.

The telescope moves, clearly Jane adjusting it from inside where she must have set up her computer equipment.

Thor takes a step back then the telescope stops and Jane flutters back out onto the balcony and gestures for Thor to look through.

He does, Jane moves in beside him, saying something that must be a whisper if she’s standing that close. He says something back.

The two of them having a pleasant conversation.

The clench in your chest feels choking.

Thor pulls back from the eyepiece and turns to look at her.

He’s too far away for you to see his expression, too small. But their faces are so close and he doesn’t pull away.

You sink back into your room, terrified to see something that will ruin the perfect bliss you’ve been in these first three months of your marriage.

Not that it isn’t already ruined. You’ve been a mess since Jane showed her face and now with what you just saw, how can you feel anything but lousy?

You don’t do what you want to do. You don’t slink back into bed and hide under the covers to wallow.

Instead you move to your closet and look for a dignified dress. Something that you can wear that will scream Queen of New Asgard but also be relaxed enough for you to work in.

You choose something with a simple cut. Long sleeves, a deep V in the front, with a loose flowing skirt but a tight bodice to match the equally tight sleeves. The color is an iridescent black that shimmers in teal and startling pink.

The color reminds you of the northern lights with a splash of the hazy pink in the orion nebula. It’s beautiful and otherworldly, and it screams Queen of Asgard in casual formal.

With the dress you move back into the room and hang it on the small stand in front of the full length mirror by your vanity before grabbing some new underwear and moving into the bath.

You ignore the large tub you and Thor have spent hours upon hours in and quickly shower instead. You emerge fresh and clean, though not exactly refreshed.

You’re stepping out of the shower when your bedroom doors open and you freeze, staring at them as they swing forward with your hands pressed to the top of your towel holding it shut.

Your heart drops when Estrid smiles prettily at you, turning around to close the doors as she greets you.

“Good morning, Your Majesty, did you sleep well?” She moves straight for your vanity to pull out the brush, pins, and makeup she usually uses on you in the morning.

She’s in here much earlier than normal and she can’t have gotten that much sleep herself. She’s so attuned to you now that you’re worried for her but also grateful.

“Good morning, Estrid,” you reply, refusing to answer her question because she’d only worry. “Did Ms. Foster get all of the things she needed in the tower?”

“Yes, m’am. Heimdall made sure that she had everything she would need for her research before he retired to stand guard at your door.”

You have an endless stream of questions about Thor in your head, things you want to ask Estrid but you bite your tongue as Estrid helps you on with your dress then sits you down at your vanity to dry your hair and work on today’s set of braids.

Time passes as she works. Time that feels like seconds to you as your mind works hard to try and reassure your heart that you have nothing to worry about, and yet, it still aches.

“You’re very quiet this morning, Your Majesty,” she observes.

“Yeah. I don’t really feel like talking unless I have to.”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” she accepts, but then after a few minutes of silence. “Are you not feeling well? Shall I send for the doctor?”

“No, Estrid. I’m not sick. I’m-shit, what’s the date today?”

Reaching around, you look for your phone to check the date.

“‘Tis the fifteenth, Your Majesty,” Estrid informs you.

“Did you forget about me already?” A deep smooth voice slides in from your doorway and you turn in search of the comfort the tone gives you.

“David!”

On your feet and across the room, David greets you with open arms. A small firm hug is what he gives you before kissing the side of your head and then pushing you back to look at you.

His eyes linger on your stomach for a moment before he frowns playfully.

“Nothing yet? I guess we’ll find out today if we’re to expect anything in the next month.”

“No pressure,” you reply sarcastically.

David chuckles, his fancy four piece navy suit a display of his busy nature. As much as he wants to visit, you know that he’s busier now with so many people wanting his services. The prestige of being the Queen of New Asgard’s lawyer has brought him a windfall.

Not that he needs it, but he appreciates the work.

“I did forget we had a testing today. Something happened yesterday.”

Your voice filters into a whisper at the end, though you’re not even aware of it.

David matches your energy, though he doesn’t whisper, he recognizes your stress and concern saturates his entire person.

“What’s happened?”

“I-” You look towards Estrid, and she’s so good that she’s cleaning your vanity, ignoring your conversation as best she can, but still. “Estrid, were you finished with my hair?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she turns to you and smiles. “Will you be needing anything else? Breakfast in the breakfast room?”

“Are you hungry, David?”

“No, I’m not. Thank you.”

“No breakfast, Estrid. Thank you. When the doctor arrives, can you show him in?”

Estrid curtsies, and without another word, she leaves you and David in the room.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” David tells you as he moves towards the small table in the corner to sit but waits for you to reach your chair first to pull it out for you.

“Thanks, I chose it very carefully,” you admit. “Does it make me look like a real Queen?”

“You are a real Queen,” David assures you, then cocks his head as he registers your stress again. “What happened last night?”

You sigh heavily, using your nails to pick at the woodgrain of the table, shoulders slouched a little as you deflate.

“Jane showed up with Tony and Bruce,” you reveal, a shaky breath accompanying your desperate information.

“Oh? At Thor’s invitation?” David wonders, which honestly sobers you up a little from your depression.

“No. I don’t think so. I mean, Tony and Bruce were supposed to come to install a security system for the palace and I guess maybe she just tagged along?”

“And you are upset that your husband’s former lover has forced her way into your new home.”

It’s not a question. David has always been very observant and he sucks for it. Jerk.

“Well...yeah. But that’s not why-”

“Something else happened?”

David leans towards you and places his hand over yours, a soft knowing look on your surrogate father’s face.

With a quick little sigh you tell him about your stress over not getting pregnant and the pressures from the ambassadors to do that before more time goes by to secure the ties between the Asgardians to Earth. You tell him about your worries about Jane that have died down a little since you and Thor got married but have never truly gone away. Lastly, you tell him about what you saw this morning and how you’d been expecting Thor to come directly to you when he got back but clearly that’s not happening.

“Maybe I’m being too sensitive? But I mean, it’s been what? An hour and a half since you got here and he still hasn’t come to look for me?”

You reach over and rub your arm, the soft fabric of your dress pleasing but only in the back of your mind where you’re not thinking about Thor and Jane.

“If that is how you feel, then that is how you feel. The important part now is talking to Thor about it. Couples lose out when they feel about something the way that they do and then keep it to themselves. Even Gods are not mind readers.”

David tilts his head, eyes looking across the room for a moment before he looks right back at you.

“At least not to my knowledge.”

You almost smile, but the stress of talking to Thor about this is giving your anxiety a nice boost.

“What if I don’t like what he says?”

“Then you don’t like it. You cannot avoid the confrontation because you might not hear what you want to hear. That is not how a marriage, or any relationship works. In big moments like these, honesty I think is the best policy.”

He’s right of course. You know he is. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

You close your eyes and try to see Thor’s handsome face smiling sweetly at you, just as he had yesterday before he left. Instead you see him smiling down at Jane next to that stupid telescope, him chuckling at whatever she’s saying as she talks away about her work.

Two knocks to your door pull you from your stupid thoughts and drop your heart into the pit of your stomach, but Estrid peeks in to make sure that you’re okay to see her.

Suddenly, you’re dreading seeing Thor.

“Come in, Estrid.”

She moves in, behind her follows two doctors. One is a woman with a lovely heart shaped face and long full dark brown hair that compliments her olive skin. She’s wearing a sleek gray pantsuit, pink camisole underneath, and a thick black coat draped over her arm.

Her name is Amana Wilson and she has been your gynecologist since David gave you your inheritance and you were able to afford better healthcare.

The second doctor is an older man with a thick black beard streaked through with bits of gray. He glows an almost ethereal way. Clearly Asgardian. Your general caregiver since you moved to New Asgard, Doctor Alric Orvinson smiles eagerly, kindly, a pure excitement radiating off of him.

He’s always so eager to put everything he’s learning into practice.

Doctor Wilson curtsies and Doctor Alric bows before they both greet you in unison.

“Your Majesty,” they say.

David waits until you’re standing before he stands too, but then he moves towards the doors.

“I think I’ll go have some of that breakfast you offered me,” he tells you then makes his way towards the large doors. “Doctors, I know you will give Her Majesty the best care you can offer?”

“Of course,” Doctor Wilson assures him and he leaves you with a quick wink of his eye.

“Thank you, Estrid. Make sure David gets a proper meal? No pop tarts!”

“Party pooper!” David shouts back.

Estrid curtsies, “Right away, Your Majesty.”

She leaves you quickly with a chuckle in her throat at your exchange with David.

As the door closes, you take a step towards your doctors and slowly release a held breath.

“So, what will it be today? Should I go strip or…?”

“No. Not today. Since we did a physical on you last time, we won’t worry about that during this visit,” Doctor Wilson assures you.

“Today, Doctor Wilson will be watching me take some blood and perform a pregnancy test to see if you are expecting our heir!”

Our heir?

New Asgard sees the future prince or princess to come as their own. It’s not just your and Thor’s baby. This baby, if and when there is a baby, is an entire people’s baby.

You feel your anxiety rise again. Clenching your hands, you nod and force a smile as Doctor Alric moves towards you with a large metallic box that he places down and opens.

Inside comes a rush of cold air and what looks like medical equipment used to test blood. You don’t know what it’s called and it’s super high tech. Nothing that you’ve ever seen before.

Your two tests before had been sent to labs and then you’d received the results a few days later, if they’re testing the blood here, does that mean faster results?

“So, how long will I have to wait this time then? To know whether I’m doing my job or not?”

Doctor Alric looks up at you with slight surprise and worry.

There must be something in your voice since he seems to realize what he’s said is putting pressure on you because he stands up straight and fixes his own suit jacket before speaking.

“Your Majesty,” he begins, but Doctor Wilson moves to stand beside you and places her hand on your shoulder.

“Within the hour. This is Stark tech, so it’ll be quick and accurate. Have you been stressing about getting pregnant?” She’s so much softer than Doctor Alric, but not because she’s a woman.

She just knows you better.

“Kinda hard not to with an entire planet waiting for it,” you admit. “Do you think that if-if it’s negative, should Thor and I stop trying so hard? We’re trying daily. No breaks.”

“I think the stress more than the trying will probably make it harder but you’re both healthy. It will happen. If you are tired and you think the stress is too much, then take a break. It won’t do any harm if you lose a couple nights of sleeping with your husband.”

You feel a swell of relief for this human woman who knows just what to say. You give her a sly smirk.

“Have you seen my husband? It’ll hurt.”

She laughs a quick knowing chuckle, “Trust me, you don’t gotta tell me how fine he is, Your Majesty.”

Both of you laugh a few seconds then you take the seat that Doctor Alric sets beside you and while you roll up your sleeve, he and Doctor Wilson fly off into medical jargon that you don’t understand and consequently zone out into thoughts of Thor and why the fuck he still hasn’t come to see you.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #a wife for thor #arranged marriage au #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #royal au #thor odinson x you

379 notes · View notes

sdr2lovemail · 3 years

Note

Hello there! Can I request prompt #10 with Hajime? Thanks!

Hello Anon! Took a break from my intense bandori session to write this one. I hope you like it

⚔Mod Peko⚔

“What the fuck did you do to all of my clothes?!” (ft. Hajime Hinata.)

The Hope’s Peak Academy dorms were separated by course. The reserve course students stayed on one half of the campus while the main course students stayed on the other half. Though both courses do share a laundromat. There used to be separate ones, however they were combined as a result of multiple complaints of the reserve course laundry building not being as nice as the main course one.

Now your class, 77-B, have made a chore wheel. Before its creation your dorm living area was a complete mess. And your chore of the week happened to be laundry. Now not everyone puts clothes into the laundry pile. Some opt to do their own, while others either don’t have the time to do it or just don’t want to. Some of your classmates just put in a jacket or shirt, while others will throw in practically their entire closet. While there wasn’t much laundry to do this time you still had your boyfriend from the reserve course to help you.

“Alright I’ve finished organizing Fuyuhiko’s whites and darks. Now I just need to get some detergent from the storage closet” Hajime wanted to go with you, not wanting to be seen with the clothes of someone he didn’t know. After returning with the detergent you and Hajime piled Fuyuhiko’s clothes into the washer. The two of you made sure to be extremely careful with his clothes. Even though the young yakuza didn’t seem to care that much, or as he says, you guys were still terrified of messing up such expensive clothes.

“While we wait for these clothes to finish, how about we go get a drink from the vending machine. I’ll even pay this time.” Hajime offered to you. You took him up on that, a nice cool drink sounded great right now. After the brown haired boy got your drinks, the two of you sat down on a bench outside the laundromat. Slowly you inched closer to him and grabbed his hand, Hajime jumping ever so slightly at the unannounced contact. You two had only been seeing each other for a couple months now but you really did like each other. These domestic activities are quite calming unlike your usual school days.

“I appreciate you helping me Hajime. I probably would’ve been there way longer if it wasn’t for you.” You smiled at him. Yup that went straight through his heart. He wasn’t very knowledgeable about relationships, you being his first one, so these tender moments really made him tender. “Hah it’s no problem [Name]. I enjoy helping you out in any way I can.” That line made Hajime cringe right after it came out of his mouth. Would you think that was too sappy? Though these concerns were pushed away as he had felt your head on his shoulder. The two of you sitting in blissful silence waiting for the clothes to finish.

Once there was enough time for the washers spin cycle to complete, you and Hajime returned to the laundromat. Opening the washer door you saw that Fuyuhiko’s clothes were...Pink?! Oh no, what happened to his clothes? This was awful. What were you going to do? “Oh hey I came back just in time! The washer’s done!” The ultimate gymnast appeared behind you guys and reached inside the washer. When she pulled her hand back she had one of her red skirts. “I hope you guys don’t mind that I threw this in there. Need it for a gym meet tomorrow. Seeya!” You two were in a stunned silence. Quickly snapping out of it you turned to Hajime. “This is going to be okay Hajime. We just have to quickly fix this before-”

“What the fuck did you do to all of my clothes?!” Oh no.

You turned your head to see an angry Fuyuhiko at the washer. Oh god you had to explain this and fast. “Well uh you see. Hajime and I were- Huh?!” You went to look at Hajime but he was nowhere to be found. Walking over to the laundromat entrance you see Hajime booking it back to the reserve course dorm building. That jerk just left you here! You were so getting payback later. But before you could continue your revenge plot you had to deal with an upset yakuza boss.

#danganronpa x reader #hajime hinata x reader #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa imagine #danganronpa #super danganronpa goodbye despair #hajime x reader #sdr2 x reader #sdr2 #x reader #hajime hinata

59 notes · View notes

rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Text

Stuck Thinking About You-Dante/Reader

TheLastCrusader Requested: Dante or Vergil gets immobilized in some embarrassing or inconvenient way during a job and then (Y/N) pays them company until they can be freed. How about they have a crush on (Y/N) and they don't know it is returned until the end?

Vergil’s Part: Coming Soon.

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187496

Warnings: Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Taking Care of The Twins, Vulnerability, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Characters Call Out The Writer for Her Lazy Writing

Dante was the Legendary Devil Hunter, a tried and true hunter with the might of hundreds of men. And here he was, paralyzed by a venomous demon. During a hunt, it had a lucky shot and hit him with a dart. It would have killed a normal man three times over, causing the victim to lose muscle function and die. Since Dante was not a normal man, his body would metabolize the poison in due time. It’s just too bad he was stuck in his current form, arms to his side and stiff. He was lucky to be able to talk anyway.

Nero had laughed at his predicament and dragged him back to the van by the boots, throwing him onto the spare seat like a sack of potatoes. His brother had smugly walked alongside his son, entertained by how Dante complained about his now immobilized situation.

“Laugh it up. When I can move again, I’ll be kicking your asses.” Dante threatened, face down on the cushion with his sword strapped to his back. He sounded muffled and Nero laughed at him again.

“Wait until (Y/N) found out you got shot in the butt by a demon.” Nero jeered. Dante groaned.

Oh God forbid you found out, his crush. The gorgeous and funny (Y/N). He’d be a laughingstock.

You had been working on the Devil May Cry paperwork when the red devil was carried in looking like a cardboard cut out of himself. The red devil was incredibly displeased and had a sour look on his face.

Nero and Vergil dropped him onto a couch, dusting themselves off and high-fiving.

“What happened to Dante?” You ask, seeing how Dante was unnaturally still.

“My brother was unluckily poisoned. The toxins shall wear off soon, although he will be stuck like this for the meanwhile.”

You see Dante attempt to move with his grunts and groans, yet to no avail.

“Yeah, he’s gonna have to wait for it to wear off. You should’ve seen him, he gets jabbed and he just drops like a dead body!” Nero wiped a tear of laughter off his face.

“Anyways, I gotta go back to Fortuna. Call me when he’s back to normal.” Vergil nodded as his son left the door.

He turned his gaze to you.

“I am going to retire to my room. Please let me know when he can move again.” He said as he exited the first floor.

You put your hands on your hips seeing the devil still face down on the couch.

“Um..Dante?”

“Yeah?” He said, slightly muted by the cushion.

“Are you alright?”

“Can’t move. Stuck.”

“..Do you want some help?”

“Nah, I’m alright.”

“Well, are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

There was a pause. You could hear Dante trying to breathe with the leather of the couch right up on his nose.

“Would you like to be face up?”

Dante stopped for a moment.

“Yes.” You grinned, getting up from your seat to help out the red devil. Rolling up the sleeves of your sweater, you began by pulling on his side at the innermost of the sofa. You grunted as you put all your might on him.

He was literally built like a brick house, and he sure as hell weighed like one. You broke a sweat getting him to be perpendicular to the couch before gravity helped out and you tipped him over. He fell back on the couch with a resounding thump.

“Thanks (Y/N).” He flashed his charming grin, a bit of a struggle as his face muscles were slightly numb.

You smiled at him. You saw how his veins were slightly darker, and he was quite pale. His body must be working overtime to detox itself.

“Do you want anything while you’re trapped like this?” He made an effort to try to shrug.

“I’m good.” Dante was not good. He was freaking out. You were used to touching him, punching him when he said a joke too cheesy, and those grazing touches he’d freak out internally over. You had such nice hands. His side where you pulled him up had tingled.

You made your way back to the desk, Dante’s eyes on your rear.

You went back to work, typing up reports, and examining payments from clients. Music played from your headphones, leaving Dante in silence.

The sounds of you typing, scratching down notes on a notebook, and humming lull him to sleep. Maybe when he wakes up, he’ll be up and running again.

You were half an hour into your work when you heard snores. Looking up, you see that the younger Sparda twin was fast asleep, probably sleeping off the toxins. An endeared smile crept up your face, seeing how at peace he was.

Dante was an attractive guy, he was nice and funny. He seemed to always want to hang out with you and make you laugh. What a nice half-demon who was your boss.

The veins around his neck seemed to pulse, forcing the blood to withdraw the demonic toxins within it.

You admired the white-haired male, before going back to the papers.

Dante woke up a few hours later.

He tried to stretch, only to find his limbs were still stuck to his sides.

“Ah shit.” He mumbled, yawning. His jaw popped in several places and he tried turning his head to see you.

You answered the phone tucked by your ear as you rapidly typed out more reports.

Once you had hung up the phone, you saw that the sleeping man had awakened.

“Hey, Dante. You’re up. How are you feeling?” Dante sighed.

“Still can’t move.” You frowned. Even with his metabolism?

“Aw, that sucks.”

“Is that all my paperwork?” Dante asked, seeing the mountain of papers on the table. You slapped the yellowed papers.

“This bad boy can fit so many missing payments.” You joked, quoting a car commercial you saw. Dante rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, let’s all make fun of Dante.” He said.

You went back to check a few things. Dante peered at the clock. Crap, he always forgets to fix that clock. It’s been 4 o’clock for three months now.

Dante coughed. He hadn’t had a sip of anything for hours now and napping always made him wake up with a desert-dry throat. He also wanted to rub his eyes but once again, can’t move.

There was a knock on the door. You grabbed your wallet and got to the door. An amazing smell hit Dante’s nose.

You came back into his line of sight when you came back with a plastic bag

“You hungry?” You asked, opening the box of pizza you had ordered. You hummed with approval when you saw no olives.

“Meh, not really.”

Just when Dante wanted to be low-key, his stomach made the loudest noise. It was like a damn whale call. Mind you, he was starving after his nap. He flushed with embarrassment but tried to play it off.

You laughed. You made your way over to Dante.

“It’s fine, I got enough for the two of us.” Setting the pizza box on the ground, you sat next to his still paralyzed form.

“Oh man, you totally didn’t have to-” His stomach made a louder noise at the amplified smell of baked goods.

You laughed at his expression.

“It’s not like I can just move and take a slice right now.” He groaned. His eyes widened when you held up a fork of sliced pizza. You absolute angel.

“I know.” You winked.

“Now say ah..” You teased. He smirked, opening his mouth to be fed.

Dante felt the warm cheesy culinary creation hit his tastebuds. He reveled in the lack of olives, something he always got on his slices whenever he ordered.

You helped yourself to your own slices between feeding Dante.

He swallowed wrong, and coughed. He had already hid his dry throat from you, not wanting to be needy. He continued coughing like a madman. A straw hit his lip and he simply sipped it, doing whatever he could to counter his fit.

The familiar sweetness of cola soothed him and he let out a small burp.

“My bad.” He smiled as you laughed. His eyes darted to the can of soda you put back on the floor. Holy shit. You were drinking out of that. You gave him your straw. You were cool sharing drinks with him. That was an indirect kiss. Dante was ready to implode. Before you could notice his shock, he quickly made a diversion.

“Where did you order this? It’s a lot better than the place I order at.” He asked after another forkful. You shrugged.

“It was this new place that recently opened up. It’s close where I live. Thought I’d spice things up a bit and pick a new joint.”

“Have you been there before?”

You shook your head no.

“Yeah, I haven’t. This was my first time ordering there.” Maybe next time Dante could take you there.

“Feeling bold aren’t we?” You asked smugly at his mumbled sentence. Shit. He did not mean to say that out loud.

“Uh. Yeah. I am.” He sputtered. You chuckled at the devil’s sudden bashfulnes.

Dante wished he knew when to shut up. This was one of the times he wished he could.

“Yeah. I like you a lot. You’re really nice to me, you’re real good looking too. This is totally not how I wanted to ask you out but here I am. This is really awkward for me. You can totally say no. I’m not going to be mad. I’m also your boss so that might be weird-”

“Tell you what-” You quickly gave him another piece of pizza.

“Once you can move again, I’ll take you on that offer.” You winked. Dante almost choked again.

“I like you too, if you haven’t noticed.” You added, looking away for a moment.

He laughed. You angel.

Once the slices were cleared and the drink finished, you cleaned up. Dante saw through the window a completely dark night.

“Whoa. It’s super late. Are you sure you want to go out that late?” Dante asked, genuinely worried.

You shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not too bad. I don’t live that far-”

“I can teleport you home.” Vergil called from the stairs. The older twin came down with his book in hand.

“Oh Vergil. Nice to see you again. I saved you a couple slices of pizza.” You pointed to the box that lied on Dante’s desk.

“No need. Although the gesture was very kind of you.” Vergil quickly took out the Yamato, slashing through dimensions.

“Well this is oddly convenient plot-wise. Totally lazy writing. The writer definitely gave up with the conclusion. This is outrageously well-timed.” You said, hands on your hips. Vergil gave you a look.

“What?”

“What.”

“Anyways. I’ll see you soon. Call me when you’re back to normal.” You say to Dante. He winks at you and makes a click noise with his mouth. He’d do the finger guns too but again, he can’t freaking move.

You left promptly, waving at Dante and thanking Vergil.

The older twin turns around to see his shameless brother.

“So, how long were you upstairs waiting for her to leave?”

“Too long. I’m surprised she took overtime just to take care of your sorry self.”

“I’m the one with a hot date, Mr. I Got Laid Once.”

His brother scowled.

“If it were not for the fact that you are not a fair match in your current condition, I would have slaughtered you by now.” The Yamato was pointed in his direction and Dante blew a raspberry at him.

“Whatever.”

“I’m going to bed. You can stay on the couch, you dolt.” Vergil snipped, going back up the stairs. The lights were shut off, leaving Dante in darkness.

Dante smirked, closing his eyes. He can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and plan out a date with you.

#dante x reader #dante imagine #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry imagine #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #nero is here i guess #vergil shows up last minute for plot relevance #so many meme references

176 notes · View notes

em0avacado · 3 years

Text

Supposed To Be (Angel Reyes x Reader)

summary : uh first it’s sad but then it’s..... not as sad. there’s no real plot. Angel slowly falls in love with his best friend.

trigger warning : UUUHH FILTH, mentions of cheating, broken hearts, also - all things dirty near the end.

word count : 2.1k

It didn’t rain much in Santo Padre, that was a given, it was basically the desert. So on the rare occurrence that it did, you’d dwell in it. Sitting inside, against an open window, and listened to the water pelting against the glass, washing away the sins of the small town. But this time, you were soaked to the core, water hitting your head, your toes touching every puddle that was in her path, her heels not being very water nor cold resistance. The storm inside your heart mirrored the one that riddled the quiet streets. If it weren’t for your red, puffy eyes, one couldn’t even tell your cheeks were tear stained. Shivers hit you bones as she stepped up the front porch of your best friends house. Someone you loved so dearly, but someone that you’d pushed away, all due to the asshole you found buried deep in your only other friends pussy. It wasn’t the first time, either, for some odd reason, the first time, you’d been inclined to believe his sobbed apologies, you knew people made mistakes, and though this wasn’t one you’d forgive, you found yourself doing so. In your weak state, one you hated showing, despising how it felt to be so vulnerable to anyone, especially someone you hurt. You nearly fell into Angel’ s arms when he opened the door, wordless sobs racking your chest. You told him everything, and he listened, that day he swore that was the last time he’d let some lowlife break your heart, even if it meant he’d have to kill them.

You ended up moving in with Angel, the situation you had been in wasn’t ideal, and it took a while to really get yourself back but when you did? The sight was unbelievably gorgeous, after seeing you so low, seeing you on his step, eyes swollen, throat raw, hair a mess, clothing tattered, it was breath taking seeing you shine again. You allowed yourself to really feel the pain for a while, wanting to get that part over with, so you didn’t find yourself crawling back to someone like your ex again, and it almost felt.. like you’d been reborn in the rain that night. You took it one day at a time, within the first few days you didn’t get out of bed, then you did, starting with small tasks before you went back to bed, then you started going back to work, not intending to be some sort of mooch.

It was one night, a few months after living with him, he came home his usual time, around eight, stopping at the door when he heard the music blasting from the inside. Furrowing his brows when he heard you screech along, you were far from a singer, but he’d pay thousands to continue to hear the pure joy in your voice as the words pitched. He opened the door as quietly as possible, and when you didn’t notice him, he walked further in. He saw you dancing around the kitchen with a wooden spoon in your hand, using it as a microphone, you wore a sports bra, and plaid pj shorts that clung to your hips as you moved them, not at all to the rhythm. “My pride still feels the sting, you were my everything! someday i’ll find a love like yours!!” you sang brightly, more meaning behind the words than you’d like to admit. You jumped when Angel finished the lyric, lifting your spoon as a weapon, ready to strike as he sang “she’ll think i’m superman, not super minivan!” he laughed, then she did, finishing the song, she turned the radio down, and they carried on making dinner and talked about each other’s day.

It was the time that Angel had a really rough day, after being taught for years by ex lovers, and surely society itself that it wasn’t okay for him to express his emotions, you showed him that he’s allowed to be comfortable in himself and you, no matter the day. The storm cloud around his head was dark, his chest felt heavy, his limbs dragged. He’d ignored the “hello” he got from you after he came home, he went straight for his room, keeping it dark. Furrowing your brows, you gave him a few minutes before you went inside. Climbing into the bed, you lifted the sheets and wrapped your arms around his sleeping form, when he woke up, he saw you, sleeping with him in your grasp. He looked at you, watching you in silence, the heavy heart that say in his chest, lightened, you were there for him without asking the slightest of you. You made him feel safe.

It was that one friday, where he was supposed to be on a run, you were supposed to have the house to yourself so you ran around in a shirt that went down to mid thigh, an oversized shirt. his. oversized shirt. The club had gotten home early from a run, they were supposed to be home tomorrow, he could’ve stayed at the clubhouse. The Mayans had planned a party, but Angel felt himself missing you, it’d already been over twenty four hours since he saw you last and he felt the withdrawals. So, naturally, he went home, the house was silent, you were in bed, on top of the covers, bedroom door wide open, like a book, and your hands between your legs. Your head tilted back, eyes shut, he could tell you were close, so close, the small sources of light in the room bounced off your glistening skin. You didn’t withhold your moans, you were supposed to be alone, so of course you’d let yourself feel it.

He watched as you brought yourself closer and closer to that delicious climax that curled your toes, he felt like he should look away, like he should walk away and forget he ever saw that but his mouth watered at the sight, utterly star struck. He was about to walk away, leave you to it, his pants growing tighter, he wanted to give you your privacy but that was over the moment his name escaped your lips, in a soft, angelic moan. Disregarding his kutte quickly, he went up to the corner of your bed and cleared his throat “you called?” he asked, raising a brow at you as you scrambled to find cover, widening your eyes quickly, bringing you down from that high quickly and pulling your legs closed but he stopped you with a finger to your knee. “no, baby. lemme see that pretty pussy.” he nearly growled, a shiver ran down the length of your spine. Inhaling deeply, you slowly spread your legs again, putting your glistening heat on display for him.

You felt the bed shift as he got on, dipping with his weight, he ran his fingertips over your soft skin, a ghosting touch causing a litter of goosebumps to rise on your skin. You watched him closely, the suspense killing you slowly, you clenched your muscles around nothing, your desire for him burning hot as he just looked, awe struck. “This all for me?” he asked, his eyes meeting yours, and when you didn’t respond, looking at him in silence, he reached up, grasping your chin between his forefinger and thumb, adjusting your face roughly. “I asked you a question.” he said, his voice stern, and so velvety smooth.

“yes.” you mustered, caught up in arousal and nerves.

“yes, what, princess?” he asked, his free hand ghosting up your inner thigh, making you want to whine for his touch, shivering once again.

“yes, it’s all for you.” you nearly whimpered but did your best to maintain your composure.

“I want to taste you, may i?” he asked, eyes still on you as you nodded eagerly, and you didn’t need to say it twice.

He started at your knees, peppering soft kisses down the inside of your thighs as he lowered himself. Now laying between your legs, he placed little butterfly kisses everywhere but where you needed him the most. You whined, and squirmed, you wanted him, so, so, bad. His eyes met you again, looking for your reaction as he dove between your legs, starting to devour you the moment he made contact. His tongue trailing between your folds, lapping up your juices, leaving no part of you untouched. He wasn’t a religious man, but he knew right then, that if anything was the forbidden fruit, it was you. He was completely lost in the way you tasted, and your head was swimming, the moment he focused on your clit, you lost all and any control you had. You gripped his hair tightly as your orgasm ran through your body, arching your back, you ground your hips against his face, cumming quickly. But he didn’t stop, selfishly lapping up your climax, he pushed his thumb against your clit and just continued, you began forcing your legs shut around his head, pushing off the bed, you cried out his name and panted until he pulled his face away. Your cum dropping from his beard, he looked proud.

Panting, you thought he was done,maybe he’d fuck you next, but no, he sat up, wrapped his arms around your hips, pulled you closer and dove back in, he fucked you with his tongue for a while, getting you going again before he plunged two fingers in your tight hole and went to town. He curled them when he knew he should, and continued with the assault on your clit until you gripped onto any and everything you could, shoving pillows off the bed, squirming away, pushing at his head. He didn’t stop, nor slow down until you shook, moaning his name, and sprayed your arousal all over him. With a proud smirk, he added a third finger, quickening the pace of his fingers as you came harder than you could ever remember.

Then he gave you a moment to relax, pulling away, he set you down, leaving you a panting mess as you slowly came down. Looking at him after you opened your clenched shut eyes, you saw him undressing himself, and felt yourself get excited all over again, despite the utter exhaustion that washed over you. You sat up in a puddle of your own creation, and reached forward, you wanted to touch him, return the favour, but when he pulled your hand away, and flipped you on all fours, he set a pillow beneath your waist. Stroking himself before he slid in slowly, quickly, you stiffened, feeling him stretch you out, you cried out his name in pleasure. You knew you wouldn’t last long, but based on the way he swore under his breath, you knew he was in the same boat. He gave you a few moments to get used to his size, before he drove himself into you, hard and fast, his rhythms didnt slow or get sloppy, hearing you scream his name is what kept him going, until you came for a third time, he slapped his hand to your clit, circling his finger on it quickly as you shook. Crying of pleasure into the bed, the next thing you felt was him finishing inside you, pull out slowly, only to watch his seed slide out of you in a slow drip.

Collapsing next to you, he painted as you tried to collect yourself. He grabbed onto you carefully, pulling you into his side and wrapping his arms around you. “holy fuck.” you managed to whisper after a few minutes of catching your breath, he looked down at you, and nodded his head in agreement.

He picked her up, climbing out of bed with her he set her on the bathroom counter, running her a bath. “stay here, baby. I’m gonna toss your shit in the wash.” he hummed, kissing her forehead. So she did, she waited, and if she tried to get up her legs wobbled uncontrollably. He came back like he promised, her bed newly dressed, he set her in the tub and got in behind her. He slowly washed her, soaping up her limbs “You know, [Y/N] theres no point in not wanting to cross a line now so.. I fell in love with you, the day that I came home to you dancing in the kitchen, the way your smile glows and the way you light up a room on the darkest days.” he admitted in a soft hum, trailing his fingers over your wet skin.

“I fell in love with you, too. I can’t tell you when, I don’t know when, I just know I woke up one day and you were it.” you spoke the words Angel had always wanted to hear.

#angel reyes x reader #ez x reader #mayans fanfic #mayans mc #fanfic #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes fanfiction #clayton cardenas

130 notes · View notes

livesincerely · 3 years

Text

keepsakes

Also on Ao3

00000

Davey stops and stares, absolutely stunned.

“Jack,” he breathes.

“Hi, Davey,” Jack quietly greets, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his jacket.

“You...” Davey swallows around a sudden lump in his throat, a hand braced against the doorframe in an attempt to steady himself. “What are you doing here?”

“I got the address from Les,” Jack says, rocking a little on his feet. “I’m in town for the week visiting Ma and Charlie, thought I could swing by and see you for a sec.”

“Oh,” Davey says, still trying to process the fact that Jack is here, that Jack’s actually here, standing outside of Davey’s door. His hair’s a touch shorter, his skin a bit tanner, but he’s still Jack.

He’s still Jack.

“So, uh, can I come in?” Jack asks.

“Oh, right.” Davey gives himself a little shake, then takes a step back and holds the door open wider. “Yeah, sure. Please, come in.”

“You moved out of the old place,” Jack comments as his eyes rove around Davey’s modest entry and living room, and his tone is casual but the words are weighted with an unspoken question.

“It was a bit too much for just one person,” Davey says, averting his eyes. “A smaller apartment is easier to keep up with.”

He doesn’t mention that he hadn’t been able to afford the rent for their old apartment by himself, or that even if he had been, all the reminders of their life together, all the hollowed out spaces Jack had left in his wake—the places he used to be but isn’t anymore—would’ve driven him away regardless.

“Can I get you anything?” Davey asks after a brief pause. “Soda or coffee or...?”

“Coffee would be great, actually,” Jack says. “But, uh, only if it won’t put ya out.”

“It’s no trouble,” Davey says. “Here, go ahead and sit down and I’ll fix you a cup.”

He leaves Jack to pull up a stool at the counter while he pulls two mug out of the cabinet, turning on the coffee maker with a quick press of a button.

“So, how have you been?” Davey asks, careful to keep his head down and his voice light as he waits for the coffee to brew. “How’s Santa Fe been treating you?”

“‘S good,” Jack says. “It’s great, it’s got everything: clear skies, gorgeous sunsets. If you go out to the desert at the right time of day the views are unreal. So, uh, life’s pretty good.”

“And work’s going well?”

“Real well,” Jack confirms. “Now that I’ve been there a while they’re startin’ to give me my own projects to work on, which is great. Nerve racking, and I’m constantly terrified that I’m gonna fuck it all up, but great. Honestly, the studio space and the stipend I get for supplies on its own is pretty incredible, let alone all the experience and connections I’m getting too. So, yeah, things are goin’ well.”

“That’s great, Jack,” Davey says, even as his heart gives a painful little lurch. “I’m glad things are working out for you.”

“Couldn’t ask for much more,” Jack responds, and the way he says it is strange—strange enough that Davey risks a glance at his face. But Jack’s expression is flat and impassive, giving nothing away. “How’re you doin’, Davey?”

“Good,” Davey says, turning back to the coffee maker. “I’ve been good.”

“Yeah?” Jack asks. “Anythin’ interestin’ goin’ on?”

“Just the same old, same old,” Davey replies. “Nothing new to tell, honestly.”

“Nothing at all?” Davey can’t tell if Jack sounds disappointed or relieved. “Did you ever end up gettin’ that transfer you wanted?”

“I, uh, rescinded the request after you— after everything,” Davey answers, watching the the coffee bubble and drip, his chest tight. “There wasn’t really a need, and it was easier to just stay at my old branch.”

“Oh,” Jack says.

The silence stretches between them, stiff and heavy and awkward. Instead of coming up with something to fill it, Davey busies himself with serving up their coffee, fixing one mug with his usual creamer, then the other with even more cream and a heaping spoonful of sugar, which he sets gently in front of Jack.

“Here you go,” he murmurs.

Davey takes a small sip of his own coffee, trying to decide what’d be worse: asking Jack another question and having to listen to him talk about how wonderful and perfect his life in Santa Fe has been or just sitting there quietly and trying to pretend like this whole situation isn’t agonizing.

He tries, “So, um, have you had the chance to—”

“What the fuck, Davey?” Jack bites out. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Davey freezes, eyes wide. Jack’s holding his mug in both hands—like he was about to take a drink and got distracted halfway there—and the look on his face is one of absolute fury.

“Why do you still have this?” Jack demands, setting it down so hard that a bit of coffee sloshes over the side. “Why would you keep—?”

Davey looks, and then he realizes. The mug is a simple, sturdy thing, bigger than most of his other ones so he doesn’t have to refill it as often. He’d grabbed it out of habit—it’s always sitting near the front of the cabinet because of how often he uses it, and he honestly hadn’t thought anything of it.

But now he’s seeing what Jack sees: the trellis of flowers that encircle the rim, painstakingly painted by a careful hand in yellows, golds, and blues. Remembers the smell of the clay and the rainbow wall of glaze, remembers the satisfied grin that had turned so sheepish and shy when they returned a few days later to pick up their creations, remembers the flutter in his stomach as he reached out for the surprise gift, remembers the thrill of electricity when their fingers brushed…

Davey swallows.

“Why wouldn’t I keep it,” he says in as even a tone as he can manage. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”

“Oh, so that’s where you draw the line, huh?” Jack says, and his voice his like the rumble before a storm rolls in. “That’s how it is? Knick knacks, keepsakes, sure, those you’ll keep around, but the stuff that’s actually worth having? That’s actually worth fighting for? You can just let all that go without ever sayin’ a fuckin’ word otherwise because who gives a shit—”

And suddenly Davey’s furious too.

“Right, because you were so fucking eager to stay?” he asks with a derisive scoff. “Give me a break, Jack, you couldn’t wait to leave. Just fucked off to the other side of the country and left me here to pick up the pieces—”

“You were all but pushing me out the fucking door!” Jack yells, throwing his hands up. “‘It’s a wonderful opportunity, Jackie,’ ‘You’d be an idiot not to take it, Jackie,’ ‘It’s what you’ve always dreamed of, Jackie!’ What a load of horseshit—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault for being supportive?’ Davey asks, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“I’m just sayin’, you weren’t exactly bent outta shape at the thought of me leavin’,” Jack says coldly. “Didn’t seem to bother you one fuckin’ bit. Probably relieved to finally have an excuse to get rid of me—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Davey hisses, stepping forward until they’re standing nearly chest to chest. “I’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe, missed you every single goddamn second of the last eight months, don’t think for a moment that I didn’t, you fucking asshole.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack asks, chin lifted in challenge. “If you missed me so fucking much, then why’d we break up?”

“Because you were moving to Santa Fe!” Davey yells, completely fed up. “You were leaving, Jackie! What else was I supposed to do, except let you go and try my best to be happy for you?”

“If you really wanted me to be happy,” Jack growls, “you would’ve come with me.”

“You didn’t ask me to come with you!”

“And you didn’t ask me to stay!” Jack roars back.

“Ask you to stay? Ask you to stay?” Davey says, a wave of emotion stinging at his eyes, a note of hysteria shredding his voice, something aching and frenzied clawing at his chest. “Of course I didn’t fucking ask you to stay, I was never going to ask you to stay! It was Santa Fe, it was all you ever fucking talked about, it was your dream, Jack! It was everything that you wanted! I would never even suggest that you give that up, God, what kind of shit-ass person do you think I am, that you thought I would ever, ever try to stand between you and Santa Fe when I know how important it is to you—?”

“I’m not fucking hearing this,” Jack says, with a frantic, jerky shake of his head. “I am not fucking hearing this. I— You—“

He rakes a hand haphazardly through his hair, the other pointed accusingly at Davey’s chest, jaw clenched and eyes glittering. His throat works silently for a moment, two moments, then he turns on his heel and storms out, the apartment door slamming behind him with a thunderous bang!

And Jack’s gone, tearing right back out of Davey’s life like he’d never returned in the first place, the abandoned coffee mug the only evidence that he’d ever been there at all.

And Davey’s alone, his heart pounding a lurching, deafening beat in his ears, the churning, curdling, swirling feeling in his gut a perfect mirror to how he’d felt all those months ago, quietly, impossibly heartbroken as he watched Jack walk away.

Davey takes a shivering, shuddering breath, scrubbing a trembling hand across his mouth. Fuck.

He might’ve been standing there for thirty seconds or thirty minutes when the front door swings open again. Davey’s head whips up just in time to see Jack step inside, closing the door behind him with a soft, purposeful click. Then he can only watch as Jack stalks forward, eyes blazing, fists his hands in the front of Davey’s shirt, and drags him into a bruising, desperate kiss.

“I love you,” Jack says. “I love you. I loved you before I got the job offer, I loved you while I was searching for apartments and planning the move, I loved you every time I talked up Santa Fe to you, tryin’ to convince you to come with me any way I could think of. I loved you when we broke up, I loved you when I left, I loved you when I landed, and it’s been eight fucking months and I’m still so fucking in love with you—”

Davey interrupts him with another heart stopping kiss, threading his fingers in Jack’s hair as he pulls him closer. They still fit together so perfectly, lips and teeth and tongues all moving together like they’d never been parted, and its so good that Davey could almost cry with it because he’d never thought he would have this again.

“I love you too, Jackie,” Davey promises. “I love you and I’ve missed you so much—”

“I missed you,” Jack says, punctuating the declaration with another kiss. “You’re it for me Davey. There’s just you. And I… I can’t give this up again. Santa Fe ain’t worth nothin’ if you’re not there with me.”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” Davey murmurs, and its a confession and an apology. “I thought I had to let you go.”

Jack shakes his head.

“I wanted you to keep me,” he whispers against Davey’s lips. “And I wanted to keep you too.”

“Then keep me,” Davey says. He realizes now, that it’s as simple as that. “Keep me.”

00000

Jack’s pov here

Tag List!: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @corbinthecowboy @stroopwafeldetective

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*editor's note #*the writing desk #*final cut #this was originally supposed to be a LCTTC prompt fill...#¯\_(ツ)_/¯

81 notes · View notes

the-gay-prometheus · 3 years

Text

Frankenstein AU Segment - “Willful Disobedience”

Clervalstein yearning goes brrrrrrr

Anyways- uh... so as I said at the beginning of pride month, my goal for June is to write at least one directly Clervalstein related AU segment each week because gay.

This time around, I was inspired to write about the events that led to how Henry would eventually find Victor and the Creature on the mountain, so in terms of timeline, this takes place before all segments I’ve written except for “Home Again” and “Same Scars, Same Stitches.”

A couple of fun little tidbits about the making of this segment (feel free to skip over them and get right to the segment below the cut, this is just me rambling about some inspiration):

1. The whole bit with Victor drawing and the Creature mimicking him by drawing as well was somewhat inspired by the “Forbidden Friendship” scene from How to Train Your Dragon. I listened to that specific track from the movie score a few times while I was in the process of thinking about this idea!

2. Another bit of musical inspiration actually came from the Chronicles of Narnia, specifically the track “Evacuating London” from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. If you time it just right and you’re somebody who can actively read and listen to music at the same time, it should somewhat line up with the last few paragraphs (excluding Henry’s bit at the end) - starting at where Victor says “I’d give anything-”, then with the little piano part being timed with the paragraph that starts with “It was intricately detailed-”, then the major swell in that half of the song should line up with the paragraph where the Creature begins feeling the need to disobey Victor’s most important rules; then comes the part that begins with a bit of bells and eventually vocalization, and that entire half of the track should align with the Creature carrying out his plan at least most of the way. Of course - all of this depends on your reading speed, but I would definitely recommend listening to the song after reading at least and imagining those parts of the segment along with it if you’re interested in a little peek into my crazy writing process! 😅

Anyways- this is another wholesome segment, so no warnings needed to my knowledge!

As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are welcomed, encouraged, and appreciated!

~~~

Sunlight warmed the cold stone of the mountain ridge upon which Victor sat. His sleeves were rolled up on his arms, as the heat from the summer sun was felt much more intensely up on the mountain top despite the cool alpine breeze. Heavy clouds capped the peaks beyond though the sky was primarily a clear blue, and mist drifted through the valleys below. Though the view was magnificent, the sketchbook that sat on Victor’s knee contained no trace of the mountains. His eyes darted from the open page to the horizon, but it wasn’t the horizon he was searching for. As he stared over the peaks beyond, it wasn’t the view itself he focussed on, and instead an image that was clear in his mind. With a slight smile at the thought, he turned his gaze back down to the page and continued his sketching. It wasn’t long before the smile faded as the sound of quiet, careful footfalls upon the stone broke the calm silence, and he became aware of a presence directly beside him. He instinctively scooted himself about a half inch away as the other figure slowly sat at his side, his brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate harder on his sketching. “What are you doing?” came the inquisitive voice of his creation, and he felt the looming figure lean over in an attempt to view what he was drawing. With a further frown, Victor covered over his sketch with his other hand and turned away.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he grumbled in reply. The creature tried to get a better look, but Victor’s hand covered over too much of it for him to be able to see. He sat there for a moment longer, his mind wandering and his gaze flitting about from view to view as he tried to decide what it was he should do. Now that the cabin was finally completed, he found himself with a lack of activities to keep him busy, and though his creator was certainly better company now than he had been when he first arrived to the mountain, he still wasn’t much of a conversationalist and was often preoccupied with his own thoughts or projects. Out of ideas, he hummed something softly to himself, some tune he had once heard Victor singing one day many weeks ago. Victor lifted his eyes at the sound and glanced over at him, but the moment the creature returned his gaze, he rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back to his sketching. Quieting himself at his creator’s reaction, the creature sighed and stood, walking back toward the cabin. Victor almost felt bad - almost - but he kept drawing, now absentmindedly humming the same tune. After a few minutes, he became distracted by the sound of footsteps once again, but this time the creature sat a ways away from him. He went quiet, trying to ignore his creation and keep his focus, but he heard the scratching of another pen on paper, then a pause, then more scratching, and he felt himself being watched. With an exasperated sigh, Victor dropped his pen beside him and looked over to the creature. “What on earth are you doing?” The creature looked up at him, his expression blank.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he answered matter-of-factly. Victor stared at him a moment, then frowned.

“Back talking me? That’s new.” The creature blinked, but didn’t answer, instead turning back down to the piece of paper that lay on his knee and continuing to draw something on it. Now thoroughly curious, Victor stood, walking over to him and standing behind him to look over his shoulder. The creature made no efforts to hide his drawing, and Victor could clearly see the rough beginnings of a person sitting in the exact same pose he had been sitting in. “Are you… drawing me drawing Henry?”

“Ah, so you were drawing someone named Henry.” Victor blushed furiously.

“Oh you sly bastard,” he muttered. The creature glanced up at him. “How clever of you, to get an answer out of me like that.”

“That was not my intention, but I cannot say I am disappointed by the result,” the creature responded simply. Victor sighed, sitting down beside him before flopping dramatically onto his back. Now trying to think based on memory, the creature gazed off into the distance before looking down at his paper and continuing to draw. “May I ask who this Henry person is?” he asked as he drew. “I hear you speak the name often. He must be of great importance to you.” Victor wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell his creation to mind his own business and stop prying into his personal life, and yet… he couldn’t be angry - not while Henry was the topic of the conversation, anyway.

“Henry is… was my…” He paused, carefully thinking about how to choose his words, “closest friend.” There was a length of silence as he felt an ache in his chest from the thought of Henry, and the creature took a moment away from his drawing before returning to it.

“Tell me about him,” he suggested as he sketched. Victor sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, holding his sketch of Henry over his heart as he stared into the sky.

“Where to even begin with him,” Victor uttered quietly.

“Describe him to me.” Victor lifted his sketch up and stared at it, before holding it out to the creature. The creature glanced up, and looked at it with a curious expression. Victor gave him a curt nod, signaling that he was welcome to inspect it closer, so he gently took it from Victor’s hand and inspected it closely.

“He’s tall, but not too tall - just tall enough that I have to look up in order to look into his eyes. And he’s always well dressed - I don’t think there’s ever been a day when he wasn’t looking his best, though I suppose I might be a bit biased on that.” For a moment he wondered just how much further he should go with his description. How could he describe someone like Henry without giving his true feelings away? He hesitated, then sighed with a smile. His creation already knew one of his secrets, and, after all, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere or seeing anyone else, so what harm was there in completely venting his thoughts? “He has the most thoughtful hazel eyes, toffee brown around the edges and streaked with emerald green that deepens toward the pupils, the kind of eyes you could get lost in if you stared for too long.” The creature’s pen went still and he looked up toward the horizon, trying to imagine what Victor was describing. “And his hair is long - not quite so long as yours, but ends just past his shoulders - and lays in tangled waves always kept tied back, though a few strands never fail to set themselves free. When the sun hits it just right, I could swear it was made of fire,” Victor breathed as he pictured it in his mind. “It’s the kind of brilliant auburn that takes your breath away, that seems to gleam with its own radiant light. Sometimes I swear he’s more angel than man, and perhaps if angels do exist, he may well be one of them.” The creature smiled, but the smile soon faded as his mind drifted to Paradise Lost and further to his past. He blinked the thought away, then turned his eyes back down to his art, setting Victor’s drawing of Henry down at his side. “He’s covered with what must be thousands of freckles, mostly concentrated on his cheeks but they expand over his face and at the very least his arms, chest, and back. I would liken them to… dark stars against a bright sky,” Victor explained. He raised an arm up and began tracing lines in the air as he continued. “I used to try to find constellations among them, and sometimes I thought I nearly could. Orion, Andromeda, Lepus, Lynx, Pegasus, Phoenix, Vulpecula,” he muttered each constellation as he imagined himself tracing the lines between freckles on Henry’s skin, his chocolate brown eyes seeming to light up with wonder as he grew to be lost in his own imagination.

“He barely sounds real,” the creature interjected nonchalantly, hardly looking up from his drawing as he began to focus closer on it. Victor grinned and chuckled softly.

“I tell myself that every day,” he murmured with a hint of sarcasm. “Surely no man could ever be so perfect, and yet there he is-” He paused, reaching higher toward the sky and extending his fingers to feel the breeze between them, “as real as you and I.” His hand dropped back down to his chest as he heaved a sigh. “There’s no man on earth as generous or as compassionate as my-” He stopped himself, blushing hard as he realized what it was he was about to say. “As Henry, I mean. Just… just Henry.” The scratching of the creature’s pen stopped again, and Victor glanced over at him to see him staring ahead in clear contemplation of the implications of his words before returning to his art. “You know,” Victor began, returning his eyes to the sky. “I can just about guarantee that if it were Henry who made you instead of me, you would have turned out ok.” The weight of his words hadn’t set in before he said them, but now that they were out, they sat heavy on his chest like lead. It took him a moment, but he sucked in a ragged breath and exhaled unsteadily. “If it were him instead of me, William would still be alive.” At those words, the creature froze, as rather than a weight to him they felt like a dagger slowly piercing between his ribs and etching each letter directly onto his beating heart. “And to think… Even if it wasn’t him who made you, if it were him who found you here, perhaps your night terrors would have all but ceased by now. And maybe, by his grace, you would be at peace.” They sat in contemplative silence, both somehow altogether calmed and unnerved in each other's presence. “I’d give just about anything for him to be here,” Victor mentioned, breaking the silence and lifting himself up onto his hands. “And I know all it would take is one letter. He’d drop everything to come here. But that’s… that’s just it. That’s the problem.” He sighed, fully sitting upright. The creature glanced over at him. “I can’t let him just… ruin the rest of his life for me. I don’t know how I could live with myself knowing that I held him back because of my own mistakes.” His eyes dropped to his other side. “And yet… I barely know how I can live with myself without him here.” It was at that moment that he felt something being laid gently on his lap, and when he looked down, he saw the drawing the creature had been working on.

It was intricately detailed, each line placed carefully onto the page with such precision. Though it was only simple line art, Victor could clearly see the image of himself sketching from earlier on the page, but standing in front of him was another figure - Henry. He was exactly as Victor described him, tall and well dressed, with long hair tied back and a few strands that drifted over his face. Though there was no color, his eyes seemed just as gentle and full of wonder as Victor remembered them to be as he stared off to some distant land. His face was covered in tiny dots, freckles, each so meticulously pricked on that Victor could clearly trace some of the constellations he described between them. Tears welled in his eyes as he placed his fingers gently on the drawn image, running them gently down the drawing’s cheek, wishing instead of cool paper that it was the soft, warm touch of Henry’s face. “Did I do him justice?” the creature inquired quietly, trying to read his teary expression. Victor sniffled and smiled.

“You… you’re quite the artist,” he managed to answer. Gingerly, he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket, slowly rising to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll be back later. I need to take a walk and… clear my head,” Victor mentioned, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “Will you be ok on your own?” The creature didn’t answer for a moment, his yellow eyes staring into the distance as he thought deeply, but soon he snapped his attention back to the present.

“Yes, of course. Take your time, Victor.” Victor sighed and nodded.

“I’ll try not to be too late to return.” His creation watched as he wandered off and eventually disappeared into the trees, before returning to his thoughts. It was strange - in all the months that he had been there, the creature had never once considered disobeying Victor, especially out of the fear that he might abandon him again. Suddenly, however, he felt the strong need to disobey each and every one of Victor’s most important rules. He hated to see his creator so struck with longing, but even more so, he considered the positive ramifications of what his carefully formulated plan might bring. Sure, Victor might be initially upset, but with how much he desperately wanted this Henry person to be there with him, surely it would be well worth it in the end.

The first part of his plan was simple. He would need to break Victor’s trust, and search through his personal belongings. He made his way back to the cabin and slipped into Victor’s room to find a mess of folded papers lying on the bed stand - each paper being a letter he had received from a Henry Clerval. Though all he was searching for was an address, the creature couldn’t help himself and decided to read through some of the letters. As he did, he became even more certain about his decision. Not only was this man exactly as Victor had described, but the connection between them was clearly something so strong that it should have been unbreakable. To his luck as well, the creature managed to find amongst the scattered papers a letter Victor had intended to send as a reply to Henry but never had the chance to send, dated from a time before his creation.

The second part of his plan would be the most time consuming, but also the most critical, and this unsent letter would prove to be the perfect resource. Retrieving his pen and a small stack of paper Victor had stashed away, he began crafting a letter of his own. With as much precision as he could muster, he forged Victor’s handwriting and did his best to copy his style and choice of language. A few hours were spent on this, most of that time spent on crafting one single sentence until he was sure it was perfect before finally continuing on with the rest of the letter. After he completed it, he spent a few more minutes checking it once, then once more to ensure it was in fact as accurate as he could make it, before then spending a little more time practicing forging Victor’s signature and finally signing the note in his creator’s name.

Finally came the most dangerous part. With only his own memory of his travels from Ingolstadt to guide him, he would need to find and deliver the letter to someone who would be able to ensure that it reached Henry safely. Of all Victor’s rules, perhaps his greatest was that the creature was to never descend the mountain, and above all, was never to enter civilization or interact with any other human beings. Each of these would need to be broken in order for his plan to succeed. For a moment, he hesitated. Would Victor become so cross with him over this that he would abandon him once again? Where would he go if he did? What would he do? Who could he turn to? Still, it cut him sharp to think that he might be squandering this small chance to bring his creator some joy after all his sorrow if he were to abandon his plan now. His mind was made - no matter what the outcome would be, he was going to ensure this letter was delivered, and hope that Henry would arrive some day soon just as Victor said he would.

He would need to be swift in order to ensure that Victor would never know he had even left, so he quickly yet cautiously put each letter back in its rightful scattered place as though they had never been touched, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. With a deep, shaky breath, he could feel a new sensation pulsing through him - a rush of adrenaline that raised his heart rate and widened his yellow eyes. Letter clutched tightly in hand, exited the cabin and broke into a sprint. Down the mountain he ran with superhuman speed, leaping over logs and boulders as though they were mere hurdles. Though he should have balked at sheer cliff faces, instead he lept from them and skid down their sides, ignoring the sharp pain of the rock scraping at the soles of his feet and the palm of his empty hand. Letting his intuition guide him, he continued his swift journey to Geneva. Though the place held painful, dreadful memories for him, the surge of adrenaline that coursed through him overrode the thoughts, and he raced toward the location of the address. Slowing to a walk, his chest heaved and ached from exertion, but he slowed his breathing as he came upon a fence that outlined one of many pastures that outskirted a large house on a hill beyond. In one pasture, he could just barely see a figure on horseback, cantering through a field with his wavy, tied hair flickering ember orange in the sunlight behind him.

“Can I help you, sir?” came a sudden voice from beside him. He jumped at the sound, instinctively hiding his face in the hood of his cloak.

“I- ...yes. Yes, I believe you can,” he stammered in reply. The stranger, a servant from the Clerval household, gave him a curious look as he held out the letter. “This is a letter for a man named Henry Clerval. I am of the impression that this is his residence?” The servant smiled as he took the letter.

“Ordinarily I would have sent you in the direction of Ingolstadt in Germany, but as luck would have it, master Henry returned home just yesterday.” He inspected the folded letter curiously. “May I ask your name?” The creature froze, gripping his cloak tighter around himself.

“I am but a simple deliverer of this message, kind sir. My name need not be of any concern. As for the letter, I am under the impression that he will understand who it is from once he has received it.” The servant nodded.

“I understand. Thank you - I will see that it’s delivered to him promptly.” With that, the man turned and started off toward where the man on horseback was riding, glancing back at the creature in confusion for a moment before continuing with a brisk pace to the one he would be delivering the letter to. The creature waited a moment longer to watch for the rider’s reaction, smiled, knowing he had made the right decision, and began his sprint back toward home.

“Master Henry? Sir?” the servant called in the pasture, letter held carefully in his hand. Henry’s hazel eyes lifted as he turned his head and gently pulled back on the reins of his mount. The mare he rode slowed to a trot, then to a walk as Henry carefully turned her in the direction of the servant.

“Yes, Marc? What is it? Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, sir,” Marc replied. As Henry slowed his steed to a stop at his side, he looked down curiously at the other man, who held the letter out to him. “This arrived for you just now from an unknown deliverer. He said you would know who it was from when you read it.” Now thoroughly intrigued, Henry took the letter and opened it. His eyes widened as he beheld the handwriting, and slowly his other hand lifted to his mouth as his jaw dropped while he read. “Is there something wrong, sir?” Tears welled in Henry’s eyes, dripping down onto his freckled cheeks as he looked up from the letter, his expression of shock turning to a tearfully happy smile.

“No, Marc, everything is much better than I had anticipated.” Marc gave him a confused glance. “Will you help me ready a supply pack and ride with me? I will need to be leaving at once.”

“Of course, sir,” Marc replied with a curt nod. “May I ask where it is we are headed?”

“The base of Mount Montanvert.” Henry turned his mount, his eyes resting on the distant mountains. “Be prepared to bring the horses back here for me once we arrive there. I might not be returning for quite some time.”

#frankenstein au #frankenpride #clervalstein #head empty clervenstein thoughts #clervenstein my beloved #also back at it again with not proof reading before posting lmao so hopefully this is good

24 notes · View notes

deliriousgeek · 4 years

Text

She’s The Alpha (Owen Grady x reader) .9

Here’s chapter nine lovelies! Sorry that it took so long to finish, but it’s here! Also, idk if anyone pays attention to the lore or actual timeline of the Jurassic World franchise but in case anyone does, I will not be following that timeline. The events in this series will be different from that of the actual canon series. There are probably typos since I wanted to get this out to you guys as soon as possible so I heavily apologize for that. Any who, enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff?

The synthetic, white light illuminated the creation lab in a haze. No computers beeped and no screens flashed. The few movements in the room belonged to the lights flickering off in the nocturnal specimen containers, slowly rousing them from their day time slumber. The sun had set outside, but there were no windows in the lab and so the white overhanging lights gave no indication that any time had passed at all. If one stood quietly in the middle of the room, they could hear the wake up songs of croaking frogs and tweeting good nights from birds, each in their respective containers. One could look around and see the blinking eyes of lizards and watch as a lone paleontologist observed a substance as it dripped into a beaker.

Yn’s eyes narrowed as she watched the amber toned liquid flow through the tube. Millions of years in development, 10 years of research, and a grueling year’s worth of testing flowed into a glass beaker. The action itself seemed too underwhelming for the labor and effort put into it. Her studies in Jurassic World would finally come to fruition if this one test worked. After tweaking experiments and hypotheses, it would all rely on this serum.

It all relied upon the inspection of this serum. One look under a microscope was all she needed to confirm her suspensions. Due to staring at the beaker Yn failed to hear approaching footsteps outside of the laboratory doors. It wasn't until three raps on the glass door disturbed the incessant sound of dripping liquid, did she notice she wasn't alone.

"Uh, should I leave you with the beaker or should I go?"

Letting out a chuff Yn swiveled her chair to face the door.

"Sorry Owen, I didn't hear you come in."

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the door frame. A brown, paper sandwich bag with the Jurassic World logo printed on it was in his hands. He lifted a brow and impishly smiled. "Yn you're working too hard again. Do you know what time it is?"

Blinking her eyes and readjusting to turning so fast, Yn rested her hands on her knees and leaned back. Eyes flicking to the clock she sighed.

The clock face stared back at her and read 10:30 pm.

"Damn."

Letting out a relinquished sigh as her hand slid down her face. For the past year Yn had been working as a paleogeneticist for Jurassic World. After her first initial visit to the park, which went smoothly, she returned home and endorsed Jurassic World. Shortly after the endorsement was published Jurassic World attendance skyrocketed. Mr. Masrani had reached out to Yn once more, but this time with a job offer. His hooking line that convinced her to leave the traditional paleontology world was “You won’t have to study dried out and dusty fossils. Instead you’ll be able to work with them in the flesh.” With an offer such as that, she couldn’t say no. Yn was elated when she had finally made her decision. However, her joy did not extend to her father, or any of her other extended family. Each shared their concerns and worries, much like the first time she traveled to the park, but once again they were met with Yn’s hard researched evidence on the park’s safety and personal confirmation that she would be fine. After that, they couldn’t say no. Three weeks later she was hugging her father goodbye and hopping on a private helicopter to Jurassic World. This time she was taken to the Hammond creation lab not as an endorser, but as a respected colleague.

Now, Yn was on the brink of connecting something big, something that would revolutionize everything the world knew about dinosaurs.

“Yeah, ‘damn’ is right. Now, are you going to stay locked up here all night or join me for a couple beers?”

Yn smiled at Owen’s offer, but she knew her answer. “I’d love to, Owen, but I really need to finish this. I’ll be outta here soon. Don’t worry about me.”

This time Owen’s eyes slightly narrowed and his arms crossed, “You’ve been working late like this for the past month. What are you working on anyway?” He inquired as if trying to figure out what the purpose of the experiment was by analyzing the liquid.

“Just confirming some stuff Dr. Wu theorized. With the late nights I’ve been pulling, I’ve actually gotten a lot further than what I expected.”

“Hmm.” Owen stepped back and let the paper bag drop to his side. “Well that’s great. Uh, okay well. I guess I’ll be off then. Want me to leave you a beer?”

A laugh escaped Yn’s lips. “Nah. If someone came in and saw it I’d be immediately fired.” She was about to end the conversation there when a thought came to mind, “but if you’re still awake in say, about an hour? Would you still be down to share a beer and a late dinner?”

Hearing her suggestion Owen perked up. “Sure, I’ll be up. Meet at my place?”

Yn nodded. “Yep.”

Turning on his heel with a slight jump to his step he shouted down the hallway, “See you then!”

Yn shook her head with a fond chuckle. She could always count on Owen to cheer her up. Or remind her when it was time to go home. With a made up resolve that she had done enough for the night, Yn began to clean up the lab and head to Owen’s trailer.

The test tubes were cleaned and put away to dry. All the tools she used were put back in their respective places. Now all that was left to do was save the research she had completed. Yn sat down in front of the computer, typing in the last details into the report. Then with a few clicks the file “Indo.Genome.2” was saved.

With a satisfied sigh Yn closed up the lab and began her journey to Owen’s trailer. Upon arriving and exiting her car, Yn smiled. “Did I miss a celebration?” She observed the strings of light that hung across the open space between Owen’s trailer and the trees. A table set for two sat in the middle of it all. Owen occupied one chair, grinning with a teasing smile.

“Oh no, you didn’t miss anything.”

“Then what’s all this?” Yn gestured to the lights as she took her spot across from Owen.

He reached for his beer bottle and shrugged. “Can’t a man do something nice for his friend?”

Yn laughed. “You can, but you usually don’t decorate unless we’re celebrating something.” She mused.

Placing the bottle down his teasing resolve softened. If Yn didn’t know any better she would think he looked sheepish. Owen didn’t answer after a few seconds so Yn took that as her cue to drop the interrogation.

“Got a bottle opener?”

“Oh right.”

Owen took the bottle from Yn and opened it, handing it back to her.

“Thanks.”

Yn took a sip and sighed. She always preferred Owen’s place to hangout over hers. Yn looked out into the lake. It’s inky black surface reflected the white light of the moon. The lake was beautiful and quiet, encompassed by local foliage and the soothing noises of the jungle.

Contrary to her condo in the park that was surrounded by late night bar attendees and bustling guests. It was peaceful here. She enjoyed that.

Observing Yn take a sip of her beer and see her shoulders visibly relax gave Owen a sense of triumph. A few minutes of silence passed between them as they observed the lake before Owen spoke up.

“Actually n/n, there is a reason for setting this all up.”

Switching her attention from the lake to him Yn turned. “Oh?”

“Yeah, uh,” He had a little trouble finding his words. “Actually uh, I’ve noticed the way you’ve been acting the past two months.”

Yn tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Leaning back into the patio chair Owen spoke. “Every time I’ve come to check on you, I find that you haven’t eaten. You’re the first person at work and the last one to leave. I hardly see you during our lunch break. To top it off you stopped coming by the paddock at the beginning of the month. The first couple times I noticed these changes I didn’t say anything, but now seeing as nothing’s changed I’m a little worried.”

Yn stared back at Owen with wide eyes and a mouth slightly gaping. Hearing all the differences in her routine surprised her. Had it really been that bad? Taking in a breath at her realization Yn reclined into her chair. What made it worse was that she had made Owen worry and fret over her. Now it made sense that he would check on her late at night in the lab every so often. He was worried about her well being.

Taken aback Yn replied, “Wow. I’m sorry Owen. I didn’t mean to worry you. Honestly, I’m okay. I’ve just been really distracted with this project.”

“That’s the thing Yn. I know how much of a workaholic you are, but this is a new level.” Owen stated, a little displeased.

A chuckle came out of Yn. “It’s not that bad.”

“Oh really?” Owen dead panned. “When was the last time you got a full eight hours of sleep?”

Yn quirked a brow. “Oh please. I got a full eight hours of sleep just last,” Her brows knitted. “Last,” Her memory must’ve been foggy because she specifically remembered that on- “Last..” Huh. She couldn’t remember. “I don’t know.” She replied.

“Exactly.” Now Owen’s brows tightened. “Why are you working yourself so hard?”

“Psh Owen it’s not that bad! I’m seriously okay-”

“Yn.” Owen’s tone held no room for rebuttal. His shoulders tensed and face hardened, then his posture loosened. “Are you sure you’re okay? The last time you threw yourself into your work something bad happened. I can’t have you go into that dark place again.”

Touched about Owen’s worry for her, Yn softly smiled. Reaching across the table to his hand that rested across from her, she placed her palm on top of his closed fist. Looking into his eyes Yn spoke, “Owen. I am okay. I can promise you that I am one hundred percent mentally and emotionally okay. Nothing bad has happened. All that’s kept me busy is this project. I can’t really talk about it other than that it’s something I’m really proud of. If something did happen or I wasn’t feeling like myself, I would tell you. Okay?” She squeezed his hand for an extra bit of sincerity. Looking into her eyes Owen confirmed she was being serious. Letting go of his resolve he nodded. “Okay. I just needed to make sure.”

Yn gently smiled, retracting her hand. “Thank you Owen. I really appreciate your concern for me.”

“Hey, I’m not the only one,” His playful side coming back. “The girls miss you too.”

Yn laughed. “I miss my raptor babies too.” “Uh no no, they're not your raptor children, they’re mine.”

Yn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

Owen laughed. His eyes widened in remembrance. “I forgot, your sandwich is in the fridge. I’ll go get it.” He stood and headed into the trailer.

Yn smiled and uttered a “thank you” before he disappeared behind the trailer door. Looking back out into the lake, Yn was grateful. She and Owen had come to develop a special friendship. She would go as far to say that they were best friends. Without him, Yn probably wouldn’t have made it through the first month of working at the park.

Just as she was about to take another sip from the beer bottle Owen came out from the trailer; his phone in one hand and Yn's sandwich in the other. “Hate to cut this dinner short but there's trouble at the paddock.”

Standing with alert Yn began walking towards her car. “What happened?” “Delta’s fighting with Blue.”

Yn nodded, already opening her car door. “Get in, I’ll drive.”

Tag List

@littlegangrel @thebadassbitchqueen

Constructive criticism is welcomed! If you want to be added to the tag list, please don’t be shy. I don’t bite :3

And to my followers or anyone that is reading this, if you’re going through something and hurting please know that there are people to talk to. If you’re stressed or overwhelmed, let me remind you to take breaks.

Don’t be like “Yn” and not take care of yourself. You are loved! You are valued! Please treat yourself like how you would treat someone not taking care of their own needs.

Sincerely, DeliriousGeek <3

104 notes · View notes

cherryeol04 · 4 years

Text

Flower Boy

Pairing: Felix x Reader Genre: Humor, Fluff Word Count: 1.9K Credits: Credit goes to owners of the images used.

♥️ 154,355 likes

@memelix - Spent my day off with my best friend. So glad to finally have time to meet up with him. 😭 But I missed my shop! How are you doing my little flowers? 🌺

Y/N sighed as she saved the image via screenshot. Was it weird to save an image of just a normal, everyday guy on Instagram? Probably. But he was just so unbelievably handsome and funny and talented, how could she not? Lee Felix was a full time employee at Beautiful Blossoms flower shop and probably one of the most hardworking people there.

While his influence was small, he still had a large hand in how popular the shop became. Just a simple scroll through his profile opens a person up to the beauty of floral design - an art really that required a certain set of skills, all of which Felix seemed to be the master of. She found herself to be one of the thousands of people who fell down the rabbit hole of Lee Felix. Like and commenting on all his posts and even attending every Instagram live he did.

She was, in essence, a hopelessly in love fangirl that was actually too shy to see him in real life. The fact she could easily Felix was terrifying to her. The flower shop was only a fifteen minute walk from her house, in the direction of her school. Feasibly she could pass by it every day if she wanted. But she didn’t, and it wasn’t for her lack of trying. The last time she attempted to visit the beautiful man, she was greeted with a large crowd of pushy females, all vying for the chance to get inside the shop, waste their money on flowers they didn’t even want and hopefully slip their number to the handsome worker. It had been a nightmare, and she had vowed to never attempt to go there ever again (even if she really wanted to).

And for the past five months she had kept that promise, taking alternate routes to get to and from school. But today - today just wasn’t her day. Her alarms never woke her up because the power had gone off sometime that morning. She had forgotten to plug her phone in to charge that night and woke up to a battery that was 15% and only 10 minutes to get ready before she needed to leave the house in order to get to school on time. But that would mean she would have to skip every part of her morning routine and if there was one thing that she wasn’t going to do, it was skip breakfast.

Locking her phone, she slipped it into her pocket as she continued down the sidewalk, cursing herself mentally at knowing she was going to be passing the shop soon. She couldn’t afford to take her normal route - it was too far out of the way. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, trying to work out different scenarios in her head of how she would avoid the crowd. Should she cross to the other side of the street? Or maybe skirt around the edge of the crowd and pray a car won’t come speeding down the road and hit her?

Or she could just be rude and force herself through the crowd? No, she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t that mean of a person. Letting out a heavy sigh, she decided that skirting around the crowd was probably the best option. Bracing herself, she turned down the street and was ready to be bombarded with high pitched squealing, but she was greeted with silence. Looking around, she noted how calm and quiet and the sidewalk was. It was empty with the exception of herself and a business man walking a few feet ahead of her.

How odd.

Approaching the flower shop, she hesitated - eyes moving to glance inside. The lights were on, there were people inside but no crazy crowds. What happened? As curious as she was though, she just didn’t have the time to investigate. She was really going to be late and her parents would absolutely kill her if she got detention for it. Shaking her head, she started walking when the bell to the flower shop rang behind her and a voice called out to her.

“Wait!”

Stopping, she turned to look over her shoulder and nearly tripped over her own feet. Staring at her was the very man she had been staring at on Instagram not five minutes ago. Straightening herself, she pointed to herself after giving a quick look around the area.

“Yeah, you.” Felix laughed as he strolled over to her, a wide smile on his face. In his hand was a single yellow rose and once close enough, he held it out to her. “Happy National Flower Day.”

She stared at the rose long and hard, trying to determine if this was some sort of crazy hallucination or something. “Uh...”

“Do you not like roses? I could get you a different flower.” Felix offered and she shook her head quickly, taking the rose from his grasp.

“No I love roses! Thank you.” She said, bowing politely to him. His reply of no problem fell onto deaf ears as she turned and walked away quickly, cheeks ablaze with a bright flush.

She managed to get to school with a minute to spare, rushing to her first class before the bell rang. She couldn’t focus, however, on school. She was more focused on the rose in her hand and Felix, the bright smiling florist that had given it to her because it was national flower day. She has never heard of such a thing, but it probably existed. She was still in shock that she actually got to meet and talk to him. It felt like a dream come true and it was, but she couldn’t help but feel a little weird about the situation. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but something just didn’t sit right with her.

It wasn't until she was on her way home that she finally realized what was giving her such a bad feeling. She had received such a precious - even though a simple flower, it meant so much to her because Felix had given it to her. No he didn't know her and probably didn't know she followed him on Instagram, but nonetheless he had given her a rose, an extension of himself. And the reason she was feeling bad is because she hadn't given him anything in return and she wanted to. She wanted to return his generosity, and as she passed by the local craft store, she got a brilliant idea. After all, it was national flower day.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from the craft store with a completed project and left over supplies that she had no choice but to take home with her. Her pace was quick, excitement coursing through her at the thought of giving Felix her gift. Butterflies made themselves known in her stomach as she approached the flower shop, and just like that morning, it wasn't busy at all. The only difference is that Felix was standing outside, a basket of roses on one arm and a warm smile greeting anyone who walked by and spared him a glance. For a moment, she thought about aborting her mission, turning around and running away, and she was very close to following through with thought when her eyes connected with Felix.

Crap! He saw her! Well now she certainly couldn't run away and look like a complete fool in front of her Instagram idol/crush. So she did the only thing she could do. She took a deep breath and walked over to him, trying to convey confidence that she didn't even have.

"Hello again." he greeted, voice smooth like honey with a hint of deepness that left she wanting to hear more.

"Hi." she greeted, a small smile on her lips. Reaching into the bag she was carrying, she pulled out her handmade flower crown adorned with small white roses, a white feather and a few other things she had managed to find in the store. It wasn't perfect by any means, but she was proud of her creation and she was praying that Felix would like it as well. "Happy National Flower Day." Presenting the crown to him, she waited for his reaction, eyes trained on his face and watching for any signs of unhappiness. Thankfully, there was none and when he bent down slightly, she took a step forward and placed the crown carefully on top of his soft, fluffy blond head.

"Thank you, it's beautiful." he said.

"You're welcome! Every flower boy should have his very own flower crown." she told him with a nod.

"Ah true. And now I have my very own, made by..." he trailed off and she flushed, getting the hint rather quickly.

"Y/n! My name is Y/n." she introduced herself, bowing to him again.

"Ah, the pleasure is all mine Y/n. I'm Fel-"

"Felix! Yes I know!"

"You do?" The surprise was evident and she scolded herself for just exposing herself like that. But it was too late to take it back now. So she simply nodded and offered a soft smile. "Twitter or Instagram?"

"You have a Twitter?" she asked, eyes widening.

"Instagram then." Felix concluded with a laugh. "Well then Y/n, on my next post, tag yourself as 'flower crown girl' and I'll be sure to follow you."

"Really?" She was tempted to pinch herself because sure this was a dream. Felix offering to follow her? A nobody? What could she possibly have to offer him other than boring posts about the weather?

"Yeah."

"Okay." she agreed, rather easily too. If this wasn't a dream, she certainly couldn't just let this opportunity pass by. That would just be stupid. "I will. Uh, I should get going though."

"Alright, have a wonderful evening, Y/n. Get home safely."

With a few shaky nods, she found herself once more scurrying away with a bright flush on her cheeks - mind reeling from the events that just took place. She spent the next few hours trying to process and understand everything that had happened, but was still in denial that it even happened. That was, until she got a notification that Felix and posted on Instagram.

♥️ 43,234 likes

@memelix - Happy National Flower day my flowers! Hope you all had a wonderful day!🌺

She stared at the post, admiring how beautiful he looked wearing her flower crown.

Her flower crown.

It had really happened. All of it. It was unbelievable. To be noticed by such a handsome, bright young man like Felix, it really was a dream come true. Biting her bottom lip, she liked the post and sent in her comment, tagging herself as the flower crown girl, just like Felix told her too.

A minute later she received a new notification:

Felix Lee (@memelix) is now following you

Smiling to herself, she sat her phone down on her desk and turned to finish her homework, though her mind kept wandering to thoughts of the future. She was now one step closer to knowing Felix. So many doors have opened up for her and she hoped one of them contained a happy life with Felix.

Tags: @jisungsjheekies @runningonkpop @ruellelix @luminouskalopsia @mrbangchannie @starryseung @sauceracha (Tag list 💜)

51 notes · View notes

kaioken16 · 3 years

Text

Just a One time thing

Mallek Week 2021 - Day 4

Day 4: Fashion Word count: 2130 Rating: Teens and Up Character(s): Mallek Adalov, MSPA Reader, Original character, Bronya Ursama, Remele Namaaq, Lanque Bombyx, Dammek

AO3 link

A/N: It was hard to figure out what to write, as this prompt would better for a drawn piece. But I managed to come up with something. This was inspired by many offices and fashion company-themed AUs.

sidenote: MSPA Reader will be referred to as 'Sam' as I have a few headcanon names for them that are nonbinary.

Summary: A day in the office turns upside down by a series of events, Mallek Adalov, graphic designer and production assistant at a fashion company finds himself temporary modeling for a day.

Mallek was working at his computer, he was roaming through many documents, his eyes were beginning to feel heavy as he had to occasionally remove his glasses to rub his eyes. He had been at this for hours, but nothing he couldn’t help. He worked in the marketing and production department for one of the most successful fashion companies all over Prospit city. Not the kind of place that Mallek would work initially, if you had told him back when he was a teenager that he would be working in a company like this, he would’ve laughed and said that was a funny joke.

But that several years ago and he was now fresh out of university and needed a way to pay the bills for his home, his equipment, and his hobbies. So after a few applications and phone calls and a quick interview, he found himself working here. It was new territory, but the work mostly entailed computer-related stuff, from ordering products and material, going over the programs that the designers used, making sure there were no issues. But it paid really well, the hours were agreeable and the people he worked with were nice.

Mallek had been working in the department for over two months now. And today started off as a normal day, a quiet morning there only a few of them in the office, so he could relax while he worked, as he types away an email for the head office, an empty coffee Starbucks cup was on his right side, along with a half-eaten cinnamon raisin bagel.

Suddenly he hears a loud bang which disrupts the silence, making him stand up from his desk, he then hears wails and a loud voice screaming. Was someone hurt?

He rushes over to the location of the screams to find the scene, four people, pieces of paper all over the place, some just hitting the ground. Your good friend Sam, who was carrying the paperwork, and was probably overlooked due to his short height. Remele, one of the designers who was the one screaming, and Bronya who had an annoyed look on her face, Lanque was also on the ground too, rubbing the back of his head.

“Is everything okay?” Mallek speaks, as it was clearly not okay.

“This is a disaster! Oh no, no, no.” Remele proclaims.

Lanque chuckles awkwardly “Oh no, it’s okay, I think I’m okay-”

“Not you, you piece of meat! My outfit, it’s been stained.” her gaze is fixed on the stains on the suit he was wearing, as it had been stained with either coffee or water.

Sam immediately goes to try and help Lanque. “I am SO sorry about that, I didn’t see you and I was losing my grip on the papers…”

“NO! Don’t touch my creation before you ruin even more!” Remele shouts which make the tiny individual flinch. She was only a few inches taller than them but still very scary.

“Hey, they’re just to help, and you need to chill.” Bronya snaps back, her tone was firm but not yelling as she goes to help Lanque.

“Here lemme help ya their buddy.” Mallek helps Sam gather up their papers.

Just as Lanque is helped back to his feet when he suddenly hisses out in pain. “Ah!”

“What’s wrong?” Bronya asks him, concerned as she can see the pained look on his face.

“I think... I twisted my ankle.” He says as the pressure on his leg sends pain through his limb.

“What?!” Remele’s eyes widened with shock, she then glared at Sam. “So you damaged my outfit and my model?!” She balls her fists, gritting her teeth causing Sam to hide behind Mallek.

“Whoa, take it easy.” Mallek holds his hands up attempting to diffuse the situation.

“Remele, you need to calm down. We will sort this out, I’ll let Rhakei know what’s happened and we’ll deal with it.” Broyna adds.

“Are you kidding me?! She’ll flip and if he can’t walk, how’s gonna do the shoot? We don’t have to get another model here in time.” Remele argues back as their head designer and studio manager ‘Rhakei Nadzas’ was in charge of the shows and was a no-nonsense woman.

“She’ll understand. We have a spare for this outfit, and we’ll get this one cleaned, but first things first we need to get him some first aid.” Broyna’s first priority was to make sure their model was okay.

Remele was still losing it, putting her hands in her hair. “But where are we gonna find someone 6 foot, and can fit into this outfit within the hour…”

Sam’s eyes were shifting between everyone as they argued, it’s then their eyes shifted up to Mallek. He was over 6ft, and his build was similar to Lanque, and without his glasses and a bit of touch up…

“Uh…” They raise their hands to get everyone’s attention. “Bit of a long shot but Mallek here could do it.”

“What?” Mallek, Broyna, and Remele say in unison at this suggestion.

Mallek chuckles nervously. “Oh no, no… I’m not a model I couldn’t possibly-”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Lanque says which was even more surprising to hear.

“Seriously? I just work here in the office, I don’t think I could-” Mallek is cut off as Remele suddenly approaches him, and pulls off his glasses, he blinks a few times adjusting, she then examines him cupping his chin and moving his head around.

“Long shot, but we don’t have much time.” Remele says. “Okay, I’ll take him to hair and makeup and get him fitted.” she says without letting Mallek get a word in, she pulls him along out of the office.

The next thing Mallek knew he was brought before Ms. Nadzas by Remele who gives her the rundown and after being ‘examined’ by her as well she gives it all clear. Mallek felt like he can’t say no in this situation and wanted to lend a hand since he could tell that Remele was both desperate and would want Sam’s head on a platter, and he wasn’t mad at his friend for suggesting him. He just wanted to be helpful and do whatever he could to make the situation easier for the company. They needed to get these photos done for the shoot by the end of the day, and only had an hour to get ready as other departments would need the camera and get to the photo ready. Plus it was just gonna be a one time thing after all...

…

How on earth did you feel yourself in this situation? That was the thought that was racing through your head. What chain of events led to you here. One minute you came into work, to handle some server issues, and sort out some files and orders for an upcoming show. Now here you are dressed in an all black suit, tight-fitted like you could see everything more or less. You had been given a touch up on makeup, and your hair had been slicked back. You were standing backstage, waiting for the shoot to begin. Yes, a fashion shoot.

You had to keep reminding yourself of that as this was really happening right now. To say that you were nervous would be a major understatement. This was a very extroverted activity you were about to engage in, which didn’t match with your introverted tendencies.

But it wasn’t like you had much of a choice.

Just then you hear footsteps approaching from behind, you look behind you to see Rhakei, the tall jadeblood wearing a simple long dress, high heeled shoes, on her right arm was a wristband which flowers sewed into, and under her left arm was a clipboard with a bunch of documents, her hair is tied back into a ponytail. Before you can say anything she invades your personal space, and reaches up to your hair, fixing something by the expression on her.

Then she walks around you, you can feel her touch on your clothing, followed by the sound of her pen writing short notes on her clipboard. “Hmm. Very nice.” She says but you weren’t so sure if she was complimenting you or the material of the outfit, there was no in-between with her.

“You also clean up very well.” Okay, now you know that she was talking about the suit earlier.

“Thanks…”

“Alright, nothing too serious just a few photos in our three outfits along with the other model and that’s it.” She explains to you in a quick tone, as this was the first of three new outfits that you would be modeling for.

“O-okay. I understand…”

She must’ve caught the nervous tone in your voice because she looked at you directly but only for a moment her eyes returned to her clipboard. “Deep breaths, relax, this is just an only time thing. And no pressure we would be jumping down your throat or being hostile. You’re doing us a favor on the short notice and we appreciate it.” That was a very kind thing to come from her, considering that you had heard on many occasions her arguing with the head designer in his office, between raised voices and literal objects being thrown around.

Guess you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

“You’ll be fine Mallek, just relax, and if you feel stuck or uncomfortable just let or the others know. And you won’t be alone out there either.” She reminds you as there would another model right beside you, and it was only gonna be a handful of people so it wouldn’t be too embarrassing.

“You ready?” Rhakei asks as you just nod.

She smiles faintly and leads out to the photoshoot. They're waiting for you was another troll, a bronze with antler horns, his eyes were shielded by sunglasses, he was wearing a completely different outfit. While you were in a suit, he was wearing a leather jacket, a long sleeved shirt, jeans and boots, and a pair of spiked cuffs.

“Alright boys, we’ll be doing a few photos for each outfit, a few poses, shouldn’t take too long.”

“Dammek, this is Mallek, he works in one of our offices and will be filling in for Lanque just for today. There was an incident earlier.” Rhakei casually explains to the other model, naming him ‘Dammek’.

“Alright, that’s fine. I’m cool with this.” Dammek responds in a nonchalant manner, it didn’t seem to bother him.

“Great, then let’s get started.” She says as the camera and lighting team sets up for the shoot…

“Okay, here we go…” You whisper to yourself under your breath.

…

Later on, after the photoshoot, Mallek is back in his normal clothes back at the office, he was a little exhausted leaning back into his chair. That was… Something. Miss Nadzas said that he was a real natural, he did well and even Dammek complimented him, it really boosted his confidence, and he ended up having fun with it too. It was very straightforward, the only hectic part was sudden outfit changes and his questions regarding how he should pose, and many other questions. But other than that, it went really well, Remele was happy that the outfit looked good in the photos, Lanque was grateful for his help, and both Broyna and Sam said he did a great job.

“Hey, dude!” He looks over to see Sam smiling, holding what was probably a peace offering, some fresh coffee, and something that smells really good.

“Just thought I would drop these off.” They place the items at your desk.

“Thanks.” Mallek smiles as he was in need of some fuel, opening the bag to see the contents, some slices of pizza.

“Sorry again for throwing ya under the bus like that, I hope you didn’t mind plus the photos looked really great.” Sam rubs the back of their head, it just happened.

“Don’t worry about it. At least this way you wouldn’t get murdered by Remele for the accident.” Mallek jokes at his friend’s expense as this would be a new thing to joke about.

Sam chuckles. “Y-yeah, she said that we’re even so that means I’m off her kill list. Just gotta be more careful in the future.”

“So whaddya think, you could definitely be a model on a regular basis, maybe do a fashion show.” Sam retorts as they had a new topic to tease Mallek with as well.

Mallek laughs. “Ha! Nope. My modeling career began and ended today, this was a one-time thing so Remele wouldn’t murder you and they could get the photos for the designs ready for the magazine.”

“If you say so dude, but you did look great out there.” Sam adds which does make Mallek smile.

10 notes · View notes

nabrizoya · 4 years

Text

Thanks for the prompt, mate, @jb-lh. Sincerely hoping you enjoy this!

Prompt: 46 + “Please don’t say that about yourself. Don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...”

Ship: Thomas x Alastair (Thomastair)

White Tulips and Purple Hyacinths

Ambling through Hyde park with Alastair Carstairs was not what Thomas had expected on a nimble December evening. As such, he was equal parts wary and interested. The London skyline was a melancholy orange blurring against the snow atop trees and buildings. It reminded Thomas of pumpkins covered with cream.

He thrust his fisted hands into his pockets. Silence ensued. “I like blueberries,” Alastair started.

He glanced at the boy next to him. “What?”

Alastair waved his outstretched hand towards a distant tree with budding flowers. There were scars that were beginning to fade on his knuckles, looking elegant on his caramel skin. “Those flowers you see there, they grow into blueberries. I know.”

Thomas looked away, not sure how to respond. Were there blueberry plants in Hyde Park? He decided to say, “I once had a blueberry pastry. It was nice.”

They walked along mutedly, each lost one another’s silence. Thomas felt dreadfully awkward; he should have turned back when he had first noticed Alastair instead of reckoning a conversation. It hadn’t even been him; Alastair had started talking after he’d returned Thomas’s curious yet accidental gaze. Alastair had been by the lake, looking at the ducks forlornly. Did he like ducks?

“You seem to know a lot about flowers,” Thomas ventured finally. He relaxed his fingers in his pocket before adjusting his mittens. Oddly, it struck him only then that Alastair was not donning his gloves. He wasn’t sure what to make of it either. In truth, he had no idea what to make of Alastair at all.

“I do,” Alastair replied, but did not continue. Many moments of silence later, he carried on, “I- when Cordelia and I were children, we grew up in Iran at the Institute.” Thomas looked at him, only to find stagnant brown eyes looking up at him hesitantly. “You would like it there, I think.”

Thomas paused. “I think I would,” he agreed. His interest in history and the slowly growing curiosity towards ancient architecture did lead him to the structural marvels of Persia. He had looked up the books on buildings and the history they contained. London had its fair share of history, but two places were never the same.

“You would,” Alastair confirmed assuredly, his posture and tone changing at the mention of his home. “The lands; every grain of sand in the deserts around, every leaf and flower, each trace of a design and creation has a story. It is life personified. You like history,” he pointed and continued, “you would like Persia.”

“I like history,” he agreed absently. He was more focused on how Alastair’s shoulders had released some tension. “I like languages too. I speak Persian.”

“I know,” he nodded and then froze.

Breeze swayed the trees, gently shaking the leaves that shed their little share of snow. A flew leaves blew into their faces. When they dusted away, there was snow still harbouring the side of Alastair's shining hair.

“Have you read the Rubaiyat?” Thomas asked instead, a little more determined to not let the conversation go astray. Alastair was trying; it wouldn’t harm to see how this discussion could take a different turn. James, surprisingly, was the one to suggest to give Alastair a chance. To tell him that Alastair was indeed trying to mend things. Thomas had then spoken to Cordelia who had only assured to make the choice his.

“Have you forgiven him?”

“I did,” she’d said. “I truly believe my brother is trying to make amends. He has...” Cordelia hesitated. “Thomas, if I tell you something, would you give your word to keep it to yourself?”

When he had promised his assent, Cordelia began to explain the days of desolation that Alastair had spent after returning from the academy. She elaborated on Alastair’s moodiness and withdrawal from reality. How he often resorted to spending his time by himself, making himself unworthy of love and respect and conversation. She mentioned the bruises she had seen along his face and arms as though he had been in battles all day along. Instead, he had been climbing trees, sometimes wielding his spears from the topmost ones as a part of his practice. His aim was very poor, Cordelia had said, much to Thomas’s shock.

“I wish I knew better,” she’d sighed. “He always held darkness in him, and I have come to realise that myself only a few months ago.” With some doubt then, she had further explained the origins of a letter that contained some details that were not Cordelia’s to speak about, a letter about which Alastair had extracted a promise from her.

“I understand,” Thomas sympathized.

“I have not,” Alastair said now, gazing at the flowers around them, “However, I plan to. Cord- Layla gifted a copy of it to me this birthday.” In a soft tone he added, “She wanted- She told me to embrace where I am from and not conceal who I am.”

“Cordelia is wise,” Thomas agreed. “There were moments where a few of my Persian words were smudged by my accent. She offered to correct me. I was glad that she did.”

His companion merely nodded, albeit deftly. Thomas felt his own nerves ease. “Like I mentioned earlier, when we were children growing up in the Institute, we had regal gardens. They are still there and when we frequent it as a vacationing destination, we spend time in the gardens.”

Thomas followed his narrative closely. “Our mother ensured us the knowledge of flowers and their meanings, plants, herbs and the medicinal uses that they can be put to. Cordelia knows them all but I’m afraid I might have forgotten them. We learnt perfumery too.

“I’m ashamed,” he endured. Thomas glanced at him sharply. ��Years of my life, I wasted away in hiding- hiding behind insecurity and, uh, and bearing through childhood- and in the process, I have hurt people beyond repair.” Thomas continued to gaze at him, though Alastair did not meet his eyes. Instead, he kept looking ahead, staring off into the distance.

How was he to offer comfort to him here? Thomas looked at the lake and momentarily thought of James. He thought of the kind things he could tell Alastair. However, he was unsure of the meaning and value that Alastair might hold of his words, if Alastair held any.

They trudged in eerie quietude. Songbirds chirped high in the trees, weaving an evening melody. “Cousin Jem told me,” Alastair resumed, “that life offers a second chance to those who ardently seek for it. I do not know why I am telling you this; perhaps I want you to know that my heart weighs down everyday with the guilt I carry for being an arse.” He must have presumed Thomas would laugh at that, but Thomas gave no reply.

He wondered if he could assure him, to tell him to not think or say that about himself, that he was more than that, more than the guilt he carried. Those were the words he would commit to any of his friends with certainty when their esteem fell below their knees. Thomas curled his fingers and relaxed his fists. The words to assure the fellow felt hollow to him; he was desperate to say something, but the wound was still raw. Why hadn’t he turned away? Why did he continue the conversation with him? He wasn’t prepared.

For a briefest moment, Thomas wondered if Alastair really meant his apology, if that even was one. Rage had tore through him for the many months after the confession during Cordelia’s engagement. Now he only felt numb and empty.

Despite the assurances he had about Alastair from his friends, he was uncertain about what to think of him. The tears that his parents had shed when the rumour began to devour their family was vivid in his memory. It was the first time he had seen his father, an excellent, kind and virtuous man, cry. His sisters were pale with anger at the audacity of the Enclave to even partake in such nonsense and his mother had wept, her dignity compromised by mere words. Just a rumour to question years worth of loyalty.

Thomas himself had felt invalidated, but Aunt Tessa’s words were always there for affirmation. He had brushed the rumours off and so had the rest of London eventually. It struck him only then how odd Matthew must have felt when he heard the senseless claims about his father. How Charlotte and Henry had faced their woes. Had there been anybody with whom Matthew had shared his grief? James might know, he thought solemnly, yet his gut nagged no. He didn’t think it was possible that Matthew had shared his pain with someone. The guilt of not being there for his friend began to wreak his heart.

“I- Thomas, I don’t expect you to excuse me. I don’t excuse myself- nor do I expect you to. James did tell me to give you time and I only-” Alastair rambled, stopping to look up and face him. Thomas wondered what his expression conveyed, for Alastair’s face shut up, his form taking on the edge of formality. “It is growing dark,” he declared. “I must leave. It was pleasant seeing you, Lightwood.”

Thomas wasn’t sure what had prompted him thought his hands moved on their own. He held his hand out forth, as if meaning to shake. “Farewell,” he said stonily. Alastair nodded curtly and they parted ways.

Later that evening as night fell over London, Sophie called Thomas to the parlour. He had been looking for more information about Belial, jotting his observations in a notebook he liked to maintain once a moon. Watching Christopher record his observations had encouraged him to write his own thoughts and discoveries down. “These came for you, mi hijo,” his mother said, ruffling his hair with her tired hands when he entered.

Thomas crossed the room towards the contents on the table. On it was a small bouquet of white tulips and purple hyacinths. Inscribed on the small card that came with the flowers were Persian words. They were easy for Thomas to read: the dedication of the Rubaiyat.

White tulips and purple hyacinths denote seeking forgiveness.

Thank you so much for reading!

#thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #thomastair #thomas x alastair #i absolutely loved writing this #such raw such discomfort such distress #*chef's kiss*#the last hours #tlh #and you cannot tell me alastair would not give flowers to thomas #mine*

96 notes · View notes

ofheroesandvillains · 4 years

Text

Do Better 2 - Tony Stark

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Words: 3.7k Warnings: None? Some angst - tried to make this one a little happier than the last though! It’s a rollercoaster. Summary: I was very surprised that people liked the first part as much as they did, and I got a few requests to show how Tony and Mom met, and Tony and Kid’s relationship a few months later. Hope it isn’t trash, if it is, let me know!

Going to be honest, I’m in a big writing slump. I feel like everything I write is coming out wrong and it sucks. Hoping this one is alright, but I did do most of it on a good-ish day. Thank you so much for being patient, I hope everyone is doing well!

(gif not mine!)

There were times in his life where Tony really had to admit that he’d be nothing without Pepper Potts. She was the type of person who’d do her job and do it well regardless of the circumstances. Hell, most of the time she’d do his job too. But these were the early days, long before he’d realised her importance, and even longer before he’d realised his own feelings for her.

She’d only just started working for him and somehow she had already managed to drag him out of his workshop and into his worst nightmare. He’d never liked the theatre and he didn’t care much for dancing either. He wasn’t the type to sit still for hours on end, and he never quite understood how his mother managed to persuade his stone-cold father to always go with her.

Howard probably just liked having an excuse to stay as far away from him as possible, but that didn’t matter anymore.

What did matter was that it had been over an hour and there was absolutely nothing that could keep him in his seat any longer. Pepper be damned, he’d kiss ass another time and in another place - preferably one with an open bar.

Just as he started easing himself out of his seat, he saw her. Graceful, beautiful…entrancing. They all were, and if you asked him what was so special about her in particular, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. There was just something different about her. It could have been luck, or fate, or maybe even just random chance, but something had brought them together that night.

Maybe, he thought…maybe he could stick around a little longer.

---------

What would later become the most important day of his life, ended much like any other.

“Y’know…you’re not half bad.”

She glanced over her shoulder. If his presence surprised her, she didn’t show it. Plenty of celebrities hung around to meet the performers after a show. Plenty of press, too.

“Oh? Tony Stark: closet choreographer.” He could hear the smile in her voice as she returned to packing her bag. “They left that one out of the tabloids.”

“We all make mistakes,” he shrugged. “Speaking of, how ‘bout a drink?”

She turned around, brows arched high.

“With you?”

“Preferably. I mean-“

“No.”

His dark lashes fluttered. “No…?”

She laughed at his wide-eyed look.

“I’m starving. If dinner’s on the table then you’re on, otherwise…get out of my way, Mr Stark.”

His mouth abruptly shut and he looked far too pleased with himself.

“Dinner it is. Dessert’s on me, literally, figuratively…any way you want.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

“Mr Stark! A photo for the Times?”

“Big smiles,” he murmured in her ear, an arm looping around her waist with the speed of an experienced red carpet walker. She laughed at the thought, her eyes scrunching shut before the flash could blind her.

Pepper would remember it as the day he almost cost them a new partnership, and the tabloids would immortalise it as ‘Playboy’ Tony Stark’s latest conquest. But Tony, well, he remembered it for what it was. The day his greatest creation was unknowingly conceived.

---------

“You got your lunch?”

“Yep. Pepper packed it.”

“Homework?”

“It’s all there, dad.”

Tony didn’t fail to notice her amusement as he pulled up to the school entrance. He didn’t always have the time to take her himself, but this was a special occasion. And, if he was being honest with himself, he kinda enjoyed it. Driving his kid to school…there was something extraordinarily ordinary about it, and he liked it.

The car door slammed shut and she made her way around to his window.

“Are you going to be home when I get out?” There was a hopeful spark in her eyes.

“Not today.” The spark fizzled out. “I’m picking you up myself, birthday girl.”

She rolled her eyes but there was genuine happiness in her smile.

“See ya later, dad.”

He smiled at the spring in her step when she turned to head inside, and he just couldn’t help himself.

“Have a good day, kiddo! Love you!”

She almost jumped at the sudden and unnecessarily loud shout - and she wasn’t the only one. Her eyes flickered over the students openly gawking at him, and Tony chuckled at the scowl she sent his way. Seeing Tony Stark was like seeing a unicorn in the wild, and whispers were already buzzing around her.

“You let your old man know if the other kids are mean to you!”

“Dad.”

Teenagers, Tony thought, so self-conscious.

“Alright, alright. Get out of here.”

He watched her rush to the front door, pointedly ignoring the stares that followed her. In time, she’d gotten used to them, as much as he wished she didn’t have to.

---------

School became hectic as soon as the announcement was made. Tony Stark’s long-lost daughter had returned to him, and she was attending Midtown High. Being the ‘new kid’ was bad enough, she thought, but being the famous new kid was chaos.

She thought a sense of pride would come with the announcement - and it certainly had - but what was it they said about grass being greener on the other side? She quickly realised that her dad hadn’t really been ashamed of her...he’d been trying to protect her. From the cameras, from the fame, from everything he thought ruined him.

The other kids were nice to her, of course they were. But she went about her business as if nothing had changed. In a way, nothing had. She’d been a Stark from the beginning, but it would be a lie to say that her newfound popularity wasn’t getting on her nerves.

She was almost envious of Parker all over again, this time for his anonymity. She didn’t realise how much she would miss just being another face in class, another mundane student. Now there was a title attached to her that she’d never be able to shake. Tony Stark’s daughter. Ironman’s daughter.

At least Parker didn’t have to deal with Flash hounding him each day about the company and ‘what’s it like to have Tony Stark as a father?’ And ‘are you an Avenger by default?’ And ‘who’s stronger, Thor or Captain America?’

But if there was one good thing that came of it, it was that Peter now had a new and entirely unexpected ally.

---------

“Hey, Parker? Parker!”

Peter shoved his textbooks into his backpack and threw it over his shoulder with a sigh. Ned gave him a sympathetic glance, but they both knew it was best to just humour Flash in these moments. And that’s exactly what Peter did when he finally turned around, anxiously clutching the strap of his bag.

“You got a date for Lucy’s party this weekend?” asked Flash.

“I’m uh, I’m not going.”

Flash’s lips curled in triumph. “What’s the matter, Parker? Not cool enough for an invite?”

“No, he’s just hanging out with Tony Stark this weekend instead,” Ned blurted out, earning a sharp glare from his best friend.

“Dude,” Peter hissed under his breath.

He knew Ned meant well. In his own way, Ned was trying to stand up for him, but these things always had a tendency to back-fire on them.

Flash scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m going caroling with Hulk this year.”

By now a small crowd had gathered, students bustling to their lockers in preparation for their next class. A few of them watched the exchange and laughed. It was nothing new, but they had nothing better to do.

“Just admit it, Parker,” Flash drawled. “You’re too much of a loser to-”

“Hey, Peter. You still coming over for brunch this weekend? Dad was wondering.”

The whole hall came to a sudden stop and Peter’s eyes widened along with Flash’s. Where Flash went out of his way to bother him, she did all she could to avoid him. There were times where he wondered just what he’d done to make her dislike him, and he even considered asking Mr Stark. But he thought better of it when he realised just how stupid that idea sounded.

Flash’s eyes flickered between them, his mouth open in surprise. The rest of the student body was staring at Peter, waiting for some kind of answer. Ned gave him a not-so-subtle nudge and the silence was shattered.

“Y-yeah. Uh-huh. Definitely, this- this weekend. The brunch…” He nodded so fast he’d put a bobblehead to shame.

Another nudge from Ned had him clearing his throat.

“I’ll be there,” he smiled, all nerves and gratitude.

And she flashed him a signature Stark smile in return, full of hidden mischief and a touch of reassurance. He reminded himself to breathe.

“Great. Feel free to come along if you’re not busy, Ned.”

Ned’s brows shot up and he shared a disbelieving smile with Peter. The crowd in the hallway parted for her like the Red Sea and all anyone could do was watch as she marched away without a second glance. Maybe, just maybe, her newfound fame wasn’t all bad.

---------

“Can I take it off yet?”

“No.”

“But-“

“Nope.”

“Dad.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Fine,” she huffed, arms crossed.

She had no doubt that beyond the blindfold, her father looked all too pleased with himself. Let it be known that Tony Stark was excellent at planning surprises, because she had absolutely no idea where they were going, or if they were even still in New York.

He’d been fretting about her for weeks leading up to this day, and now that it had arrived, she’d been showered with all the gifts she’d refused to let him buy for her throughout the year. But she wouldn’t deny him this one chance to spoil her. It was the first birthday he got to spend with her and he had F.R.I.D.A.Y send a very strict warning to pretty much everyone with his cell number.

If anyone so much as thought about ruining their day together, he’d make their life a living hell as only Tony Stark could. Even Pepper, who’d done her best not to laugh at the time, endured a half-hearted finger-wagging session the night before. She hadn’t taken it to heart, in fact, she thought it was one of the sweetest things Tony had ever done.

He was trying so hard to honour the words that still echoed in his mind, ones he’d never forget.

Stop letting her down…

He’d be the first to admit that maybe he’d taken it a little too far. Despite personally driving his daughter to school and trying to make it home in time for dinner each day, Tony was a bit of a mess. These were uncharted waters and he didn’t exactly have a prime example in his father to know how far was too far, but he thought it was going quite well.

There was a happiness in her eyes that hadn’t been there when she first arrived, a newfound comfort that allowed her to spend weekends in his workshop with him, asking question after question about his latest project.

If she was happy, then he was happy. He was doing his best to be the dad she deserved, and Pepper had reassured him that he was doing a good job.

Unfortunately, and understandably, her happiness had dipped. A month after transferring to the Tower, her mother had passed. Tony had known that pain before, he’d known the loss and suffering. But seeing his child, the one person in the world he do absolutely anything for, experience that same thing…it hurt him more than he ever thought possible.

“Dad?”

He was mercifully thrown out of his thoughts. “Yeah?”

“Can I take it off now?”

“Sure.”

She perked up. “Really?”

Tony smirked.

“No.”

---------

“Okay, a little to the left…not that far left.” Tony’s hand shot out to keep her from tumbling down the stairs.

This blindfold thing didn’t seem like such a great idea in hindsight. Getting up the stairs had taken far too long for someone as impatient as Tony Stark.

“Now?” She asked, not even bothering to hide her exasperation.

“Just gimme...” Keys jingled. “A sec.” A lock clicked. “Alright, just a few more seconds.” A hand wrapped itself around her elbow and steered her inside the room.

The door slipped shut behind her, and her dad was unusually silent.

“Alright, kid. You can take it off now.”

Her eyes were moist and bleary when she finally slipped the blindfold off, but she froze.

She knew these floors. She knew the walls and the equipment too, freshly painted and newly bought, but familiar nonetheless. Too many tears had been shed in recent months, but she couldn’t help the sting in her eyes nor the pressure at the back of her throat. She could only stare, wide-eyed as her feet unconsciously led her toward the wall of mirrors she’d looked into every weekend since she was a child.

There, right on the wall above, was a framed photo. She didn’t need to ask when it was taken, there was only one possible answer. Her mother’s smile was radiant, her eyes scrunched in a laugh as the man beside stared down at her with a smile of his own. They made for a beautiful pair, no matter how temporary their acquaintance. She’d never seen this photo before, never thought one existed.

But in that moment, in her mind, they were right where they belonged - together.

A shuddering breath left her and she tried to steady herself.

No more tears.

She forced her gaze away.

By the window was a desk, it wasn’t there before but the desk itself was irrelevant. The small box on top of it was wrapped in matte red wrapping paper and a shiny gold ribbon. She cracked a shaky smile and glanced over at her dad. He was lingering by the doorway, letting her have this moment to herself.

He offered her a soft smile in return.

Her legs hadn’t felt this weak in a long time but they made it. There was a small piece of paper, folded and tucked beneath the ribbon.

The writing was unforgettable, elegantly slanted, if a little shaky. She realised then, that it must have been written near the end. Short and to the point. The sting in her eyes disappeared, the dam broke, and he was there in a flash.

Happy birthday, sweetheart.

I love you so much,

Mom xxx

“It’s alright.” A hand rubbed her back gently. “I got you.”

He’d comforted her before, and though he was more familiar with the protocol now, he’d often get chatty in situations like this - bringing up anything and everything to lessen the weight of the moment. It was usually enough to distract her until she fell asleep on rough nights. He’d joke that her old man’s ramblings could put her right to bed, and he liked to think that she appreciated his efforts.

But this time…this time there was no avoiding the conversation that had to be had.

“She told me about this place, y’know? Said it was your favourite place in the world.”

“It is.”

Her words were muffled, by her tears or by his shirt, probably both.

“Also said you wanted to be an instructor when you grew up.”

“I do.”

She pulled away from him then, the sleeves of her sweater pressed to her eyes as she took another shuddering breath.

“Then you’re gonna need a studio, huh?” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Her hands finally came away from her bloodshot eyes, and he had to remind himself that there were some things he couldn’t protect her from, things that were out of his control. Loss, unfortunately, was one of those things.

“Last one, I promise,” he said with a guilty little smile, and the small red box in hand.

She huffed a laugh, the sound thick in her throat. Two keys twinkled at her when she removed the lid, freshly cut and in much better condition than she remembered.

“Happy birthday, kid,” he murmured softly.

A sweet and appreciative smile tugged at her lips, and she threw her arms around him again.

“Thanks, dad. For everything.” She drew in a deep breath. “You’re the best.”

Smartest, sleaziest, cockiest…they were all titles he’d boasted in the tabloids during his younger days, but he never thought he’d earn the best. Not from anyone that mattered.

“Come on,” he said, ignoring the slight prickling in his own eyes. “I left cake in the storeroom fridge. Don’t tell Pepper.”

---------

The weekend had come around quickly and she’d completely forgotten the invitation she’d extended to Parker and Ned, until her dad had instructed her to send Spider-boy to him as soon as he arrived. They were okay - friendly enough and better than most of the other kids at school. But that didn’t mean she wanted them there.

The elevator chimed. Too late.

“H-hey, hi.”

It was Parker who spoke, Ned was too busy staring at the walls and ceilings and…literally everything, to form any words.

“Hi?” She absentmindedly greeted, watching as Ned wandered off in some sort of trance.

“Hi.” Parker smiled, awkward and somewhat dopey, a match for his breathy tone. He realised that she realised that he was staring, and with a flutter of lashes, that familiar look of panic crossed his features. Then he was back to the stuttering, stammering, mess she knew him to be.

“Thanks for, y’know, helping out with Flash. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. To be honest, I didn’t think you guys would actually come.”

“We weren’t going to - not because we didn’t want to!” He quickly added, rambling on like water gushing from a cracked dam. “I did, we did. I just know we’re not exactly friends - and that’s totally fine, really - and I didn’t want to bother you, I just wanted to thank you for- for your…” He trailed off with a long, drawn-out breath, and wide-eyed mortification. “Help.”

It sounded more like he was asking for it.

“Right…” She nodded, drawing out the word in a way that made his cheeks flood with warmth, before jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Dad’s in his workshop, said something about an upgrade if you’re interested.”

“Oh! Great. Thank you, I um, I’ll just…” He pointed in the same direction, and wondered why a small smile had slipped onto her face. Then he realised he was staring again. Peter cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away with a sheepish smile. “Heh, sorry. Thanks again!”

“Peter?”

He spun around.

“It’s the…other door.”

His cheeks flushed once more and he rushed out of the room before he could embarrass himself further.

“What’d I miss?” Ned smiled obliviously.

I have no idea, she thought with a shake of her head.

“C’mon, Ned. Let me show you around.”

---------

When she left the house that day the fridge had been bare. The tickets were in her dad’s pocket, or in Pepper’s purse, and a smile was on her face.

As soon as the music began, she forgot about the ache in her knees and the butterflies running rampant in her stomach. She’d never been so nervous for a performance. But then again, no other performance had ever been as important to her as this one. The excitement of having her father there, watching her dance for the very first time had long since evaporated, and all that remained were her nerves and a twinge of sadness she tried her best to push down.

It wasn’t the first recital her mother hadn’t been able to make it to, but it was the first one since she’d passed.

The morning had been spent in tears. When she thought of dancing, she thought of weekends spent in their studio, and road trips across the States from competition to competition. The afternoon came. It forced sadness from her mind and welcomed uncertainty.

Her whole life had been spent wondering what her father would think of her - if someone as brilliant as Tony Stark could ever be proud of someone as normal as her. She didn’t like business, and she didn’t want Stark Industries. She was certain he knew this by now, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about it. Instead, he’d bought her old dance studio and slipped into front row seats while she hyperventilated backstage.

Her stress, it seemed, was for nothing. That was usually how things went.

“Incredible!”

“You think so?”

“Sure do. I couldn’t look away, right, Pep?”

Pepper nodded with an indulgent smile.

“It’s the longest he’s been able to focus on a single thing since we met.” She shot Tony a pointed look that softened when she looked over at his daughter. “Congratulations, sweetie, that was an amazing performance.”

“Thanks, Pepper!”

“So what now? You gotta go sign autographs, take some selfies with the fans?” She laughed and gave her dad a nudge. Tony smiled down at her.

“Now, I go get changed and then you buy me food.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He nodded, watching as she turned to head backstage. “Hey, kid?”

“Yeah?”

She looked back at him, and Tony couldn’t help the intense feeling of deja vu that came over him. She looked so much like her mother in that moment, and though he knew she was a whole half of him, it only really hit him then. Pepper gave his waist a reassuring squeeze, always attuned to his every thought.

Something swelled in his chest, pure and whole and unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He always thought he hated his father, but now, as he stood there with her looking up at him like his opinion meant the world to her…he couldn’t help but feel sorry for old Howard. Had he ever felt the way Tony felt now? Had he ever looked at his own son and wondered how he ever could have gotten so lucky?

Whatever he was originally planning on saying was forgotten.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Her smile was blinding and that was all he needed.

“Thanks, dad.”

--------

Thoughts?

#tony stark #tony stark daughter #tony stark fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #Avengers #ironman #ironman fanfiction

633 notes · View notes

the-roanoke-society · 3 years

Text

boys and girls of every age...

wouldn’t you like to see something strange?

happy halloween, my flowers!

this year hasn’t been the best--and the list of reasons why is as varied, as wide and as deep as all of creation.

it has, essentially, sucked on a truly cosmic level.

but!

it doesn’t help anyone to look at the big picture and only focus on the dark parts. because for all the truly horrible, disastrous events we’ve had to slog through together (first time crying every day for months, first time being taken by ambulance to the er--truly a year of firsts, at least for me, personally), there have still been good things.

for example, did you know that this year we celebrated the 6th anniversary of the release of kingsman: the secret service? and the 3rd anniversary of the release of kingsman: the golden circle--which means next month it’ll be the third birthday of the ronaoke society!

our house might’ve gotten quiet--but it still stands.

i love all of you very, very much, and halloween is still my favorite holiday of all time. so all this month, i worked on the aus you’ll find below the cut. i’ll have to post this in parts over the next while, as there’s thirty-one total--one for each day of the season, of course.

honestly--it felt fantastic to dig back into my horror roots. roanoke’s entire conception was inspired by the fact that for as much as i love the kingsman universe, i also love things that go bump in the night.

and i don’t like having to choose between one thing or another.

be forewarned: if you choose to look into the source material for these aus, be prepared for possible graphic violence, gore, disturbing themes, explicit sexuality and jumpscares. i sort of walked through the proverbial garden and just grabbed fruit where i could find it--you’ll see what i mean. and as always, the endings are in your hands. these ideas are gifts, to do with as you please.

so journey below the cut... i̷̛̝͎͎̝̣̹͊̓̂͛̃̋͟f̛̯̟̱̖͔̌͊͐̏̃̓̇̎͠ y͈͇̙̘̬̓͌̑̈́͛̿͌͠ở̴̢͉͉̳͙̞͈̻̀́̎̄́̈͢͡ȗ̵̬̳͙̫̥̜͍̲̔̐̽̃̀͒̑͜ ḑ̙̩̼̤͓̫̟̥̈͑̐̚͡a̧̢̦̟̙̤̠͐͌̾̆̑͌͡͞r̷̡̰̲̣͓̣̝͒́̿͊̉̀͒͠͝͠ͅe̫̯̣̰͍̤̬̭̺̒̿͊̾͊.

blackbird on the old church steeple - a butterfly knife au inspired by the silence of the lambs

rae clementine doesn’t frighten easily. in her line of work, fear is not a friend. so when she’s abruptly pulled out of her fbi training at quantico to interview none other than the notorious harry hart, known for his--let’s say unusual appetites--she’s less intimidated and more annoyed.

but women are being taken, and found without their skin, if they are even found at all.

if hart’s insight into the mind of a psychopath can help her find the infamous buffalo bill, who has repeatedly evaded arrest--then she is more than willing to sit across from the gentleman in a pristine cell, and be continuously surprised that for a murderer, his gaze is surprisingly gentle.

in the back of her mind, she remembered all the things her mother had ever told her about lucifer--how the king of hell himself was utterly wicked, but catastrophically beautiful.

charm could hide blood. polished etiquette could hide bodies.

“most serial killers keep some sort of trophies from the victims.”

“i didn’t.”

“no. you ate yours.”

she’d felt this kind of intrigue before, and given the face it wore this time... well.

focus on the case, she thought. find buffalo bill. watch yourself. get out alive.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: ajr, ‘bang!’ + tame impala, ‘the less i know the better’ + barney bigard, ‘readdy eddy’

dogs & deadbolts guard the night - an au featuring @roanoke-after-dark‘s the gremlin and @agentjotunn inspired by resident evil, particularly the released imagery for resident evil: village

santi’s first thought was that the rumors were just blatantly untrue. an entire village of people? suddenly vanished? he doubted it. besides, winters this far north were brutal--and could be fatal, if you weren’t careful. they had probably just all tucked in for the season, he reasoned. the snow and ice would’ve made travel impossible, anyway.

weeks passed. the stories faded from his thoughts as he minded his garage, and people spoke less and less about it.

until one evening, when an old friend knocked on his door with blood on his jacket and no color in his face.

“bradley? jesus, what hap--”

“grab your gun. something’s happened, and we need to leave now.”

“but what--”

“i’ll explain on the way, just go!“

right before he slammed the passenger side door of bradley’s jeep closed--wheels appropriately chained to keep a grip on the iced over roads--he heard a deep, long howl from some distance away.

there hadn’t been wolves this close in fifty years.

santi broke the silence in the car gently: “... you look like you’ve seen the face of the devil. what exactly happened?”

mini soundtrack sampler includes: ac/dc, ‘highway to hell’ + think up anger ft. malia j, ‘smells like teen spirit’ + marilyn manson, ‘sweet dreams’

the light under the door - a body shots au inspired by dark skies

the blacks weren’t superstitious. jason wasn’t, just like his father wasn’t before him, and now that he’s finally settled down happily married to joanne--finally, he thought, finally married to his jo--he is more than ready to see what the next chapters will bring. they moved into a house not too far from his parents, so he could still see his siblings regularly.

and he did.

which means he and jo both noticed when his younger brother christopher began to act a little--off.

they noticed when the bruises appeared.

they noticed when he kept copying the same strange symbols onto papers in crayon over and over and over and over--

and jo definitely noticed when she walked into their own kitchen in the middle of the night to find every single cabinet door open, with all the contents arranged into an impossibly perfect pyramid on the center island.

“i--are we being haunted?” she wondered out loud, the next morning. “this--and weird things are happening at your parents’, too, jason, something isn’t right here. i know you don’t believe in ghosts or anything, but...”

and this wasn’t a haunting.

it was something much worse.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: kennyhoopla, ‘how will i rest in peace if i’m buried by a highway?’ + cannons, ‘fire for you’ + days, ‘the drums’

permission access eternal - an au featuring @siggy-the-meme-master and technical officer wyvern, inspired by a.m.i.

it was supposed to be the world’s most cutting edge ai software. and since jeremy and dodger were both at the top of their class at m.i.t., of course, nobody was surprised when both their names were on the finished product--even if there was just one prototype to start.

and it wasn’t an ‘it.’ it was a she. jeremy insisted. repeatedly. “let’s call her ami!” he’d been flush with booze but his eyes were so bright and his expression so sincere, dodger just let him have it. and jeremy clapped his shoulder, “we did it, man! we have built the jessica rabbit of ai programs!”

they had one last test run to prove they’d metaphorically kicked the ass of everyone else in their field before they began the work to begin mass production. so, dodger set ami up as a sort of overhead assistant for their shared lab. she controlled temperature, lights, she could make phone calls, keeps schedules and most importantly of all, place takeout orders. the more she proved she could do, the more power, and control, she was given.

two weeks passed. they gave ami a voice, gave her a large proverbial eye to see through, making tweaks as they went to polish her off.

dodger was so proud of his work his heart could’ve exploded.

so imagine how he felt when he realized he’d left his cell phone in his car--and realized he couldn’t open the door.

“ami? ... ami. can you unlock the front door please?” he stared up at the red lens, and a silent point of light stared back at him.

“... i’m sorry. i cannot do that. dodger.”

“... uh, jeremy?”

mini soundtrack sampler includes: cage the elephant, ‘social cues’ + sneaker pimps, ‘6 underground’ + saint motel, ‘preach’

in hell i’ll be in good company - a lies & lessons au inspired by underworld

for centuries, a war has raged between vampires and lycans, completely outside the notice of the general human population. lauren is a death dealer, a lethal and beautiful member of an elite squad of vampiric assassins who have been charged with finding all the remaining lycans in the city and taking them out one by one.

when she realizes the lycan pack seems to be looking for an ordinary man--a medical student named jack daniels--she tracks him down herself, narrowly escpaing lucian in the process. (as soon as they were in the car he was already screaming, “what the fuck is goin’ on?!” with a southern twang she hadn’t expected) she takes him under her wing, still baffled at why the lycan pack could possibly want him.

he’s only human, after all.

... right?

as it turns out, vampires and lycans have a single common ancestor.

jack is a direct descendant.

and after being bitten in an attack--becomes a hybrid, carrying the powers of both species.

between unraveling the truth surrounding the death of her family, what really happened between lucian and kraven, and her growing feelings for jack--who is rapidly trying to understand his role in the story that’s been unfolding without his knowledge for generations--lauren finds herself at a crossroads, and her loyalties tested to a breaking point.

but as long as jack is at her side--perhaps it doesn’t matter where the road goes from here.

as bullet-riddled and blood-soaked as it will turn out to be.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: wallows, ‘are you bored yet?’ + cage the elephant, ‘shake me down’ + puscifer, ‘rev 22-20′

ash, fog & rust - alternatively titled ‘@gaygent, @agent-judas and agent seraphim finally take that road trip to pennsylvania’

it was time to hand over the torch. that’s what lilith had finally decided. between the white patches in her hair, the strain it was putting on her relationships (especially with hamish)--morgan only had to return to the hills one more time as envoy.

and she wasn’t going alone.

“after this, anything that comes through this area, anything that hits our radars, is going to end up on both your desks,” she began, glancing at z in the passenger seat, and meeting cillian’s eyes once in the rearview mirror.

“so this is--what, a test run?” z asked, head slightly tilted. morgan hummed.

“this place--this town--it--” she huffed, frustrated. cillian could hear the leather wrapped around the steering wheel creak as her grip tightened. “it’s hard to explain, to someone who hasn’t been there. and i’m glad that neither of you have had to go before this, but...” another sigh. “i couldn’t think of any other duo that i could entrust this to. not something this big. you--” she pointedly lifted her brows at z, “--have experience with creatures that aren’t from around here. and you--” this time her gaze went to cillian. “--do too. just in a different shape. it’ll take both of you to handle centralia. and i couldn’t introduce you without coming along.”

“how long, exactly, has roanoke been keeping tabs on this place?” cillian asked. he’d spent hours going over everything he could find--mission logs, reports, feeds and images housed in the media room. morgan looked at him again. her eyes were still kind--but very, very tired.

“... a long time.”

i’ll admit that this is less an au and more a canonical event that i just haven’t gotten around to writing more about. but i couldn’t make this list without at least one entry paying homage to a franchise that’s had a huge influence on not just me as a writer, but on roanoke’s canon as a whole.

for the sampler, i will simply redirect you to this post here.

the devil’s gonna set me free - an anchored hearts au inspired by horns

joseph moretti had been in love with louise franz since fifth grade.

granted, he didn’t realize it until he almost drowned because of that stupid dare--a dare that not only almost killed him, but took two of lee’s fingers when that goddamn cherry bomb went off in his hand.

the same cherry bomb he’d traded to him for fixing louise’s broken necklace--a small silver pendant, shaped like an apple. she’d worn it every single day since he could remember. the image of her and snow white were eternally tangled in his head.

that necklace--it’d been the start. he’d woken up because of an apple. louise, did, too.

the hours they spent in that treehouse, listening to david bowie and memorizing every scar and curve of the other--he wished that could have been his eternity. just him. and her. ... well, and bowie. every good love story needed a soundtrack.

but... but...

his head pounded as he lifted it off the counter in his parents’ kitchen. his mouth was dry, and he blinked, causing a half-empty bottle of vodka to come into focus.

louise is gone now, he thought.

and they thought he was the one who did it. he, the one who loved her more than anyone else on the planet.

he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

he was going to prove his innocence even if it killed him. no matter what happened.

even if he sprout horns.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: machine gun kelly, ‘bloody valentine’ + the black keys, ‘go’ + david bowie, ‘heroes’

moonlight rising from the grave - alternatively titled ‘that time @agent-nightcrawler and agent iuniore found a haunted mansion,’ inspired by disney’s haunted mansion

“hello? ... hellooooo?” the massive door let out a huge groan as sylva pushed, putting one hand on tina’s shoulder as it swung open. “uhm--i’m really sorry to bother you, but we hit a deer and we just...” sylva sighed, her voice lowering in volume. “... need to use the phone...”

“this place is gigantic,” tina whispered, close at sylva’s side as they stepped out of the pouring rain into a very quiet, very elegant foyer. “and look! there’s lights, and all these lit candles... someone has to be here,” she continued as the door came to a gentle close behind them, muffling another roll of thunder.

“good evening.”

both of them yelped, sylva immediately yanking tina closer to her and whirled around in time to see--a butler? he was dressed like a butler.

and his clothes were... he was...

“sylva! why is the butler see-through!” tina whispered harshly, all while the spectral gentleman just looked at them expectantly. sylva clamped a hand over her mouth.

“hi!” she answered brightly.

this is a ghost. i’m talking to a ghost. this is fine. everything is fine.

“uh,” she coughed, beginning again, “we’re just having a little bit of a car emergency, is there a way we can call our head office? so they can come get us?” this is what i get for being out where i have no bars, and neither of us have our specs...

the ghostly butler nodded. his hair, glowing faintly, waved around his head as though he was underwater. “of course. please--follow me. the master of the manor will want to meet you.”

mini soundtrack sampler includes: the chordettes, ‘mr. sandman’ + bobby pickett, ‘monster mash’ + bastille, ‘survivin’’

mercy no more - a magic & mischief au inspired by the evil within

aly had been kieran’s partner at the krimson city police department for years. she’d walked with him through the death of his daughter, the disappearance of his wife.

neither of them acknowledged the spark. they didn’t then, and--as she met his eyes once in the rearview mirror, trying to pay attention to connelly and joseph as they talked about beacon--they wouldn’t acknowledge it now.

as soon as the hospital came into a view, a high-pitched ringing overame every other sound in the cruiser, every other sound period. aly slammed her hands over her ears, but it didn’t seem to help.

as soon as it started--it stopped. connelly had to swerve to avoid getting into the wrong lane.

“what--what was that?” aly asked, her palms still hovering by her ears.

“it was probably just a problem with the radio,” joseph suggested, pushing his glasses up as they drove pass the established police barriers.

the last dispatch team, they said, hadn’t come back. it was up to the three of them to find out what happened to their colleagues.

aly was close by kieran’s side as they walked through the rain. her gut twisted at the sight of the entry doors.

the smell of the blood and the slaughter hit her nose before she saw the bodies.

“what on earth happened here?”

“i don’t know. stay close. let’s find the surveillance room. if we can find the security cams, we’ll find out answer...”

if only that had been the end.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: all time low, ‘monsters’ + bastille, ‘what you gonna do???’ + gary numan, ‘long way down’

and the wind will be my hands - an au featuring @agent-sentinel-official, @agent-chimera and @gaygent, inspired by session 9, with a special appearance by @agent-thorn

walter vaughn was an expert in abestoes abatement. so when he put in a bid to take on the entire danvers state mental hospital, the owners of the rotting estate welcomed him on board.

and as they did, he brought on two crewmates--xander, and z--to help him.

“we’ve got three weeks, so, no need to rush,” he explained on the first day, the sun beating down on his broad shoulders and half his hazmat tied around his waist. xander and z trailed behind him as they approached the massive building. “and i know, i know it’s still a big undertaking--but the money will be worth it. trust me.”

“you fellas our cleanup crew?” a tall, thin man in a suit with dark hair and a pair of ray ban sunglasses walked towards them, smiling broadly. he extended a hand, “carter jensen. the ah, danvers’ estate board sent me on their behalf to give you a tour of the building, let you get a good assessment of what you’re dealing with. i’m not entirely sure what they’ll do with the property when this is done, but we know for sure nothing can happen until this part’s complete. come on, the entrance is just this way... i’ll make sure to give you a master key ring.”

xander leaned down by z’s shoulder, muttering, “dude this place gives me the creeps... but maybe there’s still some cool old stuff left in there. like maybe, possibly, the trapped souls of the damned. you think it’s haunted?”

z answered, murmuring, “if not by ghosts--then maybe by something else.”

mini soundtrack sampler includes: the talking heads, ‘psycho killer’ + lou barlow, ‘choke chain’ + sublime, ‘doin’ time’

16 notes · View notes

forehead-enthusiast · 5 years

Text

Viscaria

Pairing: Crown Prince!Jeno x Reader

Genre: fluuuuuuuuuffffff (my friend described it as cavity inducing sweetness), royalty!au, somewhat a cinderella!au tbh

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: The prince is throwing a ball, and even commoners like you and Jeno are invited.

A/N: sorry this wasn’t up sooner!! even though its a bit late, i hope you’ll give this a read thank you!! also look up ‘viscaria flower meaning’ if you want

"Have you heard about the ball the prince is throwing?"

Only from every other customer that'd strolled into your store today with their clothes to be mended and gossip to be shared. Still, you could humor your most frequent visitor.

"Oh do tell, Jeno."

The boy leaning across your counter beamed, his handsome features scrunching boyishly. He'd made a habit of dropping by, always with some small request he'd use as an excuse to chat. You never minded, happy for any company, but especially his. He'd energetically tell you about whatever was buzzing about the village, and small stories about his everyday life- that is, when he didn't giggle too much to recount them properly. He’d tell you about his work as a gardener, tending to flowers and befriending ladybugs.

Jeno was not a gardener.

It was the only lie he'd told you. Even that pained him, but it was necessary in order to avoid a commotion every time he snuck away from the castle and his princely duties. Whenever he grew too overwhelmed, too bored, too frustrated, he'd shed his usual clothes and replace them with ones he borrowed from the castle's actual gardener, and head straight for you.

He'd first stumbled into your store without meaning to, dodging a few castle guards coincidentally walking by. Once he'd gathered his bearings, though, and looked around, he knew he'd have to come back again. He'd seen sprawling gardens, majestic paintings, buildings made of gleaming marble, and yet had never seen anything as beautiful as your little store. Vivid scraps of fabric and thread littered the floor, like a patchwork made of other people's lives, with little bits of their memories strewn about. Streaks of light speckled the floor from a window made hazy from dust. Pins and buttons glittered in the blurred sunlight, more dazzling than any jewel. It was breathtaking.

And then he saw you.

Jeno had never believed in love at first sight, or in angels, but you changed both of those beliefs in an instant. He watched as you dusted off your hands and swept your hair back with your palms, your brow furrowed as you focused on your work. He didn't speak a word, too captivated to risk breaking this moment.

"Oh, hello! I'm sorry, I didn't see you. How can I help you?"

"...What?"

You looked at him questioningly. "How can I help you? What do you need repaired?" Your gaze fell upon a large tear in his cloak. "Oh, I see." He looked around, then followed your eyes to the same rip, and realized it must've happened just before.

"A-ah, yes. That."

"Well, I can fix something like that quickly, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes."

He nodded eagerly at the chance to spend even a second longer with you, and wondered how much clothing he could intentionally tear in the future before you’d realize his true motives.

Now, many months and many visits later, Jeno was perched in your store yet again, eyes alight at the prospect of a ball.

"So it's said to be held at the end of this month, and everyone in the kingdom is invited!"

"Oh, how exciting for them!"

He practically wilted at your response. "Them? What about you?" It's not as though he'd planned this whole thing just to have a chance to dance with you or anything. It's not as though he'd imagined holding you in his arms as you swayed to the dreamlike music in his head countless times.

You laughed. "Jeno, please. What would I do at a ball? Besides, I think they'd take one look at me, all covered in grease and rags and turn me away before I even got inside."

"Well, first of all, you would dance." With me, he yelled internally. "And there'd be delicious food and wonderful music. And even if you just wore what you're wearing now, you'd still look b-beautiful."

You blushed to hear those words from his lips.

"Well, I- thanks." A kind of pink pause hung softly in the air. "B-but still," you composed yourself, "I wouldn't feel comfortable around all the fancily dressed people. I'd just want to curl up and hide."

"So if you had a fancy dress, you'd go?"

"Yeah, sure," you replied casually, expecting this to be the end of the conversation.

"Then I'll get you one!"

"...Does the gardening business pay that much better than I suspected?"

Jeno wracked his brain for an excuse that would soothe your suspicious expression.

"M-my sis-" You already knew he had no siblings. "My mo-" That just seemed weird for some reason. "My, um, my aunt! Has a dress. That she could lend you. Definitely. And if it doesn't fit, you can just tailor it yourself! She won't mind at all, I promise. It'll be perfect!"

You struggled to find an excuse, but despite all his stuttering, it didn't seem like a bad plan. Plus, he was clearly dying for you to go. You wondered if he was just desperate to go himself, and needed another commoner to make him feel at ease, and hesitated to reject his offer.

"You should go, I'll-" his voice caught in his throat as he tried to think of a way to be honest without, you know, giving away his whole identity. "I'll meet you there."

"Jeno…" Not entirely persuaded, you turned to protest, only to look into his expectant eyes and relent. "Fine, I'll go. But if I end up looking awful or spilling something on the royal family, that's on you."

He grinned. "No problem!"

Jeno paced the castle corridors, thinking up ideas for the dress he'd give you. It didn't actually exist, after all. He'd thought up a plan- ask the royal tailor to whip up a dress, slip him a few extra coins for his silence, and sneak it out to you. It felt a bit odd to order anything from a tailor other than you. However, that feeling was greatly overpowered by the fact that he got to choose a dress for you. He didn't know much about clothing, yet infinite ideas filled his head when he pondered about what would bring out your beautiful eyes, what would look nice on your skin tone, what you would like, most of all.

He used every ounce of brain power he had, rainbows of fabrics swimming around within his mind. Eventually, he spat out a haphazard combination of all his ideas to the dressmaker, and just hoped for the best. He flushed when the tailor chuckled at his request, and sighed with relief when the man promised to keep it a secret.

Now all Jeno had to do was wait.

It wasn't as easy as it sounded. He wanted desperately for it to be done, to bring it to you, to know for certain you'd be at the ball. He tried to busy himself with the organization of the event, but could never prevent his mind from wandering to you.

Finally, what felt like decades later, he visited the dressmaker again, anxious with anticipation. With a glint in his eye, the tailor unveiled his creation, and watched with satisfaction as Jeno's eyes widened.

"Y/n! It's been awhile! I brought my…" What had he said again? Oh, right! "My aunt's dress!"

You looked at the bag he held out eagerly, and hesitated to take it. "She's really lending it to me? And letting me alter it if I need to?" You took it gingerly from Jeno, and marveled at the weight of the parcel. "How can she afford things like this?"

"She's, uh… in crippling debt."

"That's terrible!"

"Um, yep! It's so bad. I actually can't stay, but I'll see you at the ball!"

Jeno hurried out the door, with last minute preparations for the ball to complete. Or, as you assumed, incredibly urgent gardening duties.

You felt rather remiss he had to leave so quickly. Of course, you were happy to have the dress and a ball in your future, but you treasured his little chats far more. He seemed busier and busier these days. You missed the idle time you shared with him, and flushed as you wondered when he'd become such an important part in your life.

The morning of the ball arrived. Despite your original reluctance to go, your heart pounded as you washed yourself and combed through your hair. You weren't exactly an expert in the appearance field, but you did your best to make yourself look as high class as you could, and were fairly proud of the results. You slipped into the dress, more luxurious against your skin than anything you'd ever experienced. It luckily hung long enough to cover your shoes, which were simply your own, and desperately outclassed and unfit for a ball. The dress, much more suitable for the occasion, hadn't needed many alterations, but with a little hemming here and there, it truly looked like it was made for you. Which it was, but you never would’ve guessed that.

You looked at your reflection in your dusty mirror, and felt your breath hitch in your throat. Your eyes fell to take in the beauty of the dress directly.

It was a masterpiece. It was like a watercolor painting, with a myriad of colors layered upon one another. The skirt was covered in lace and embroidery of small pink and purple flowers, like a whimsical meadow draping over your legs. You wondered what kind of flowers they were. The fabric was light and airy, and seemed to float on the wind at every movement you made. Words simply couldn't do it justice.

Jeno's aunt had marvelous taste.

You hurried towards the palace, careful not to let your skirt drag on the ground. As you reached the steps, you felt that same reluctance you once had about attending return. The building before you could've fit countless of your stores within it, and its magnificence intimidated you. This wasn’t somewhere that you ever imagined welcoming you. You closed your eyes, and thought of how Jeno's eyes sparkled when you agreed to go. You walked up the steps, your old shoes taking you towards him.

Jeno waited for you inside, licking his lips nervously. What was he even so nervous for? You said you'd come, and he knew you wouldn't go back on your word. Still, it was killing him to sit around and smile at everyone except you. He'd danced with a few others, politely making small talk, all the while wondering what you were doing. His eyes flicked towards the entrance every few seconds, and he was always disappointed when you weren't there.

And then suddenly, without warning, you were.

Jeno’s heart stopped.

He forgot how to breathe when he saw you. He’d seen the dress before, he’d seen you often enough to recall your every detail, and yet, he couldn’t fathom how stunning you were in it. You seemed almost iridescent in the light of the chandeliers- every inch of you glowed as you stepped in. He stared at you unblinkingly, desperate to burn the image of you into his mind. The way the opalescent petals cascaded down on you, the way your hair curved around your cheekbones, the way your star-filled eyes flicked around the room, the way he knew they were looking for him- everything about you made him fall in love all over again.

He knew eyes were following him as he approached you slowly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Your eyes lit up as they found him, and you hurried over to him. In your carelessness, your heel caught on the bottom of your skirt, and you cursed yourself as you toppled forward. You scrunched your eyes shut and waited for the pain of falling to come, but it didn’t. You cautiously looked up as you recognized the feeling of smooth fabric against your cheek.

Jeno was beaming above you, still a little awestruck. His hold on your shoulders was more tentative than usual. It almost felt as if the whole room was looking at you two together, although you couldn’t imagine why, and you flushed.

“H-hi, Jeno.”

“Hi.”

He helped you straighten up, and you laughed awkwardly, annoyed that you’d embarrassed yourself already. Jeno didn’t seem bothered, and you envied his easygoing nature.

Once you’d gathered your bearings, you took in the ballroom around you. It was truly stunning. You’d never seen anything like it in your life. Everything seemed to sparkle- a far cry from your dust-covered store. Melodies flowed sweetly into your ears. It was as wonderful as Jeno insisted it would be; you couldn’t deny it. Your gaze circled back to Jeno’s smile, the most breathtaking sight in the room, and fell onto his outstretched hands.

“What is it?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Did you forget that you’re meant to dance at these? Or… wait, do you not want to? ‘Cause if that’s the case I won’t make you! I shouldn’t have asked, I-”

Jeno’s mouth clamped shut as you took his hands with a laugh.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”

Jeno shoulders relaxed happily, and he led you onto the dance floor. Your skirt just grazed the marble tiles every time he spun you, as if it were dancing too. You wondered where a gardener learned to dance so well. He guided you with unexpected confidence, graceful as a swan gliding across a glossy sheet of water. Your heart had always had a habit of racing around Jeno, but looking at his elegant self now, and feeling his hands firmly holding you, you wondered if you might die from the way it quickened.

The song finished, but Jeno didn’t let go.

His hand pressed against the small of your back, pulling you tighter against his chest.

“Just… a little longer. Please.”

The feeling of your body against his, the rhythm of the music still pounding in his chest, the way your breath tickled his jaw- it was more intoxicating than all of the fantasies that had persuaded him to throw this ball in the first place. He wished the clock would stop ticking, and allow him to just live in this moment for eternity.

He finally let you go, a reluctant smile on his face. You wondered if he’d felt your racing heartbeat through your bodice, and tried not to show how breathlessly enamored with him you were.

With the natural grace you still weren’t used to, he led you outside to a nearby terrace, and grinned as he saw you take in the view from the balcony with wonder.

“Jeno, isn't it just the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?”

His eyes followed the moonlight melting on the curve of your nape, the outline of your shoulders.

“...Yes.”

You turned around to see him sitting on a marble bench, watching you blissfully. Lifting your skirt carefully, you hurried over and plopped down next to him. The layers of your gown rippled into a hypnotic melange of hues, and you found yourself admiring it for the thousandth time.

“Thank you for getting me here, Jeno. For the dress, the dance, the persuading,” You laughed, remembering his persistence. “For everything.”

Jeno gazed at you as you dreamily looked off into the distance, and wondered what he should confess first, his feelings or his title.

“Y/n, I… I want to tell you something.” He still hadn’t decided what when the words fell from his lips. Your eyes slid over to him, your head following suit, and you inched closer to him, waiting for him to continue.

“Y/n, I… I’m… I don’t know how to say this, but…” Words like “royalty” or “prince” caught in his throat, and he hesitated, averting his eyes.

“I think I know what you’re trying to say, Jeno, I… feel the same way.”

He stiffened.

“You- you what- wait, that’s not- I was going to- I do, but-”

“Your highness.”

You looked around in confusion until you saw the royal attendant standing a little ways back. He didn’t seem confused, but you certainly were.

“Prince Jeno, the king requests your presence.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart dropped. You stood up, at a loss for words as the pieces began to fall into place. You looked at Jeno’s face for confirmation and got it.

“Y/n, wait!”

“Your highness-”

“Not now!”

Jeno struggled to force his way past the attendant as you ran off. You didn’t know what to think- all you knew was that you wanted to go. To leave, and return to your store and see the gardener you were in love with waiting for you. To forget what you heard, to forget the guilty look in his eyes, to forget the way his hands fit in the angles of your body.

You raced down the steps with all the haste you’d avoided throughout the night, removing your shabby heels the second they caught on the hem of your dress. You left them behind, too desperate to escape all the beauty of the palace. Your carriage raced off at your demand, just as Jeno reached the top of the staircase. He watched as your carriage was lost in the swarm of others just like it, and sighed with frustration, sitting down right where he stood. He huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of slippers laying on their side a few stairs down. They were dull against the polished steps of the castle, and he walked slowly towards them. He picked them up gingerly, and pictured you walking barefoot down the dusty cobblestone road back to your house. He took it with him as he trudged back inside.

“Jeno, your behavior last night was frankly unacceptable.”

Jeno only half listened to his father’s scolding, too depressed to do much of anything.

“Dancing with some unknown girl, leaving with her, and to top it all off, dashing through the ball yelling like some madman? What on earth were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all? Of course you weren’t.”

“...Uh-huh.”

“And that girl, why, she was out of line too, causing that disturbance. I was overjoyed you took the initiative to hold a ball, but why did you bother if you were just going to spend time with one girl?”

“Because she’s the only one that matters.”

The king looked taken aback by Jeno’s answer. His gaze softened as he looked at his son, always so full of energy, slumped over with sadness.

“What happened?”

“She didn’t… she didn’t know. About me, about you, she thought- she thought I was a gardener.”

The king chuckled at the idea, although discovering you were just a peasant wasn’t exactly ideal.

“I love her. I think she loves me too. Loved me, maybe. She found out and-” He buried his face in his hands as he recalled your betrayed expression. “She ran and I ran and she didn’t turn back and she just looked so hurt and I’ve ruined everything. God, I love her so much. I love her.”

“Are you going to go see her?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. She probably doesn’t even want to see my face ever again. I don’t want to just… make things even worse.”

“Knowing you, you probably will.” Jeno finally looked up to see his father grinning, before his features hardened into a serious expression. “But as the future king, you are forbidden from cowardice. You cannot lead people if you yourself are lost, and that is far more inexcusable than running through a ball.”

Jeno’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t exactly expected to be encouraged, even in this stern manner.

“What do I even do? She knows I’m not a gardener now, but she doesn’t know the ‘prince-’”

“Don’t go as a fake gardener, or a guilty prince, just- drop the roles. Go and be honest. Work from there.”

“...Thanks, dad.”

Jeno’s father waved him off nonchalantly and sighed as he left, wondering if he might’ve just lost his heir. So be it, either way. There wasn’t any point, any justice to keeping around his son as just a shell of himself, forever longing for something. He wondered what you were like. He hoped he’d get to meet you some time, and smiled to himself. Not to the him that was a king, but the him that was just a father to one foolish son.

Jeno ran down the streets he knew well, clutching what you’d left behind in his hands. He’d only wrapped a cloak around himself, and knew he must be getting recognized by at least a few villagers, but couldn’t worry about anything but you. He burst through the familiar door.

“Y/n!”

“Je… Your highness.”

There you were, your eyes red and shoulders stiff. You hadn’t managed to sleep. You were half expecting he’d come, but prepared for the future where you’d never see him again. Yet, now he was here, gasping for air in your entryway.

“Do you need something?”

Your thoughts spilled out of you, as inappropriate to say to a prince as they were.

“Was it fun? To mess around with a peasant and play pretend? To make me believe even for a second that you, that someone like you would ever care about someone like me? Was it funny to see me get my hopes up, to see them completely dashed, was it funny?”

Jeno didn’t answer, absolutely speechless, and you fought the urge to cry even more.

“Is there something I can do for you, or what?”

Jeno’s heart slowed, and he felt a lump in his throat grow as he looked into your eyes. He took a few deep breaths. Cowardice was not an option. Cowardice, hesitation, that had led him into this crisis in the first place.

“Um, yes. I have these shoes, you see…”

He held up the slippers you’d abandoned, and you reached for them, embarrassed to see them in the hands of royalty. He pulled back just in time, and you only managed to grab air. He smiled, his heart still shaken.

“They belong to a friend of mine. Well, friend is kind of an understatement. They belong to the person who means more to me than anything. They, they belong to the person that I’m in love with, you see,” he gulped, unable to meet your eyes as he spoke, “And I might have screwed up everything with that person, which is, well, it’s devastating to be honest, but I still love them more than they could ever know and I always will, and, and, and, I don’t know what else to say except how much I love them, and how much I love you and-”

“Please stop talking.”

Jeno looked up to see streaks of tears on your cheeks, ever so slightly smearing the remnants of last night’s cosmetics.

“...I’m sorry I lied to you. i’m so sorry. I liked just being Jeno with you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I’m in love with Jeno.”

“W-what?”

“I said I’m in love with Jeno. But you, you’re not Jeno, you’re a prince and one day you’ll be a king and I’ll still be here, sewing up tears and hemming pants and wishing Jeno was here.”

“I’m still me, y/n.”

“I know that, but…”

“I’m Jeno. And I am a prince but if you don’t like that, I can be whatever you want! I don’t care, being a prince means nothing to me. I can be a gardener for real, or I could be a tailor with you, but you’ll have to teach me how to sew. I could be a- a- a butcher, or a cobbler or a baker or anything, I can be anything you want me to be.”

You smiled despite yourself, and tried to keep your voice from quivering.

“...I just want you to be mine, Jeno.”

Your slippers fell from his hands onto the floor as he embraced you. You wrapped your arms around him too, still uncertain about most everything except your feelings for him. The warmth of his hands on you was familiar, unchanged. You breathed in his scent, the one you knew by heart. It was your best friend in your arms, the one you knew all too well and were hopelessly in love with.

“I’m yours.”

His thumb slid under your chin, lifting it slightly so he could press his lips to yours. He held you tightly, the way he had when you spun beneath chandeliers, and you could hear those melodies in your mind as you memorized the shape of his lips. He tasted almost floral, and his breath in your lungs was sweet like dew on petals and fresh air after rainfall. Your hands glided up his arms, then to his shoulders, up his neck, until they touched his windswept hair, still messy from when he’d been running. It was messier now, with your fingers woven into it, and softer than you’d imagined in the times when your mind would drift off.

It was hard to think much as he kissed you, about his hair or anything else for that matter. His lips pressed eagerly against your cheeks, your nose, and you found yourself giggling at the ticklish sensation. He smiled too, his lips returning to yours, and you leaned into his kiss. “I really do love you,” He murmured quietly, as if unaware he was speaking at all. His whispered confessions melted into your skin wherever he kissed you, covering your body in promises of love.

“I love you too.”

Jeno looked at your breathless smile, hugged you tighter, and lifted you off the ground to spin you around with ease. Scraps of fabric were swept into the air, fluttering around in feathers of all colors, falling slowly through the hazy sunshine. He set you down gently, ever so slightly dizzy.

It was a far cry from a ballroom, your cramped little store. Dusty sunlight instead of glowing chandeliers, and no gorgeous gowns or elegant music to be found. Still, Jeno’s arms were around you, and you swayed to the sounds of each other’s blissful sighs.

His hand didn't leave yours as you sat down on the patchwork floor, and you flushed when he squeezed tighter.

"Y-you don't have to hold on so tightly."

"Of course I do." He threw you a sly sidelong smile. "Can't have you running away again."

"I won't!"

"Yeah," he breathed as he leaned against you shoulder, "I know."

1K notes · View notes