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zaharadessert · 2 years

Text

The Heart of the Saviour (5/12)

Rating: Mature to start with, some later chapters will probably end up being explicit.

Warnings: Abduction, Ransom, Mortal Peril.

Summary: One night, in every corner of every magical realm, every boy aged nine to seventeen disappeared. Not one remained. That was when Pan made himself known to the realms, and from that night the eve of every boy’s ninth birthday meant their disappearance, until finally the realms demanded to know what he wanted to return their children to them. Pan told them he wanted the saviour, and while most realms were confused Snow and David knew what he meant and confessed the role their daughter was supposed to have played in breaking the curse. The realms voted and agreed to Pan’s terms, and Pan stopped taking the realms sons, holding the children he’d currently taken as insurance of their compliance. For the next fifteen years Emma’s birthday wasn’t a celebration, it was another tick on the countdown clock to the end of her freedom. Not that she was ever free in the first place, but to save every male child in the United Realms including her younger brother, Leo… She understood that she had a job to do, and she would do her duty with her head held high. What she didn’t count on was the sparkling blue eyes of the man Pan sends to escort her to Neverland in time for her twenty-first birthday.

Notes: Thanks to the @neverlandnewyear mods for running this event again, and to @kmomof4 for the amazing work you have done bringing this fic up to scratch. Once again, not sorry about the cliff-hanger last week, but there’s some nice stuff in this one to make up for it, among other things and Emma’s time with Pam begins. Link to AO3 is down there somewhere!

Tagging: @jrob64 @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @wefoundloveunderthelight @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @jonesfandomfanatic @tiganasummertree @onceratheart18 @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @itsfabianadocarmo @ouatpost @ultraluckycatnd @winterbaby89 @thepirateandhisson @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @captainswan21 @spaceconveyor @pirateprincessofpizza @sparlecorn93 @hollyethecurious @anmylica

As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist for future fics :)

Read on AO3: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

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“Swan, get below, now!” he ordered, but before she could reply, obey, or even think about moving, a piece of his ship knocked her off balance. He was reaching for her as she stumbled, but then a wave had him gripping the helm like his life depended on it and he could do nothing but watch as she was pressed back against the side of the ship and scream as she fell overboard.

“EMMA!” he bellowed, his voice laced with panic.

He didn’t even think as he ripped off his coat, stuffing it down the hatch into his cabin as the sound of her scream cut off abruptly but before she’d even hit the water.

“Starkey, take the helm!'' The man was already heading over, his hands closing around the spars as Killian unlooped a rope from by the mast and tied it round his waist. “If you dogs let me drown I will haunt you for the rest of eternity and that’s nothing to what Pan will do to you if he doesn’t get what he sent us for!” he barked, kicking off his boots and taking off at a run, leaping over the side of the ship and diving into the waves.

The current tore against him, tiring him quickly, but he forced himself to keep going, searching for a body floating in the dark waters.

His heart beat hard in his chest, knowing what awaited him should he fail to save her from drowning.

King David’s wrath would be nothing to Pan’s.

But it wasn’t fear of them that had him searching so desperately for her, it was that he would never forgive himself if he let their argument be the reason she died. Their argument had stirred up the wind and the water and made this storm possible in the mermaid infested waters, their magic bringing emotion into the real world.

He’d known this and still he’d let their argument grow to the point where she’d been dragged off his ship by the ferocious waves. He had to find her, he couldn’t bear the weight of the guilt if he failed. He was going to lose her anyway, but to be the cause of her death would be unbearable.

His lungs were starting to burn as his hand brushed something in the water, and his fingers stretched to grip at the material, recognising the heavy brocade of her overcoat. He kicked out, fighting to get closer, wrapping his arm around her and then kicking for the surface. He tugged on the rope, lungs burning and prayed his crew would assist him.

The rope around his waist tightened, and soon his head broke the surface and he found himself gratefully gasping in lungfuls of air. He let his crew do the work, clinging to his Swan like a limpet to make sure he didn’t lose her again in the wash of the waves trying to drag them both down to the depths.

By the time they were being dragged up the side of the ship, Killian was exhausted from keeping hold of her let alone the fight he’d had to find her in the first place. He didn’t have the strength to help. He could only cling onto her and pray she was still breathing when they finally got her back on the ship.

Killian hadn’t prayed in a long time, he’d never found anything worth praying to or over, but now… He would give anything for her to be okay. If she wasn’t… if she didn’t…, he didn’t know if it would be possible for him to forgive himself. He couldn’t imagine a world without her in it, bringing light to some small corner, even if he couldn’t see it himself.

Pan wasn’t going to let him see her again, he was sure. But that didn’t matter as long as she existed, and in Neverland she could exist forever.

They sprawled onto the deck and one of the men cut the rope off him, tangled and knot overly tight as it now was having borne both their weight.

He forced himself to move, first only turning his head to look across at where she was lying on her back, hair and limbs spread wide where they’d fallen on the sodden planks. She was pale and still, and dread- deeper even than when she’d first fallen- settled in his gut. He rolled onto his side, forced himself onto his hands and knees and scrambled across the short distance to where she lay. He placed his hand over her chest- she wasn’t breathing- but then he searched her neck for her heartbeat. It was slow, weak, but it was there. Trying to work out what was best to do, he pinched her nose and tilted back her chin, sealing his mouth over her lips, blowing air into her lungs. He watched as her chest rose and fell as his breath filled her lungs and tried again. “Come on, Emma,” he hissed, rolling her onto her side to rub her back. She coughed and spluttered, water splattering onto the deck.

She dragged in a painful wheezing breath, and Killian felt relief flood through him. Panting, he let his forehead rest against her temple and closed his eyes. After a moment or two, as she kept breathing, neither of them saying anything, Killian noticed she was shivering. He also noticed how much the storm had calmed.

“Heat up some water and get the bath into my cabin,” he barked as he sprung to his feet, realising that he was shivering himself, but he didn’t feel as cold as she clearly was. “Come on, Love, let’s get you warmed up.”

“I’m fine,” she protested weakly as he slid his arms under her back and knees, lifting her easily off the floor, her body tensing in his arms, even as her fingers curled around the neckline of his waistcoat and shirt, fingers grazing his chest as her head dropped to his shoulder.

Gods, why had he ever convinced himself that pushing her away was a good idea? He held her tighter against his chest, feeling her curl into his warmth as her entire body trembled against him, fighting away the cold. But still he rolled his eyes and shook his head in fond exasperation at her stubbornness. The fiery grit she couldn’t help that told him she really was going to be okay.

“No, you’re not, Swan,” he murmured quietly as he kicked open the door to his cabin. “Stop arguing with me just for the sake of it when I’m trying to help,” he said as he carefully made his way down the ladder.

To her credit, other than the shivering she didn’t move at all, clearly realising that a physical protest would result in her getting dropped down the ladder. He hoped that wasn’t the only reason, other than the fact that she was freezing and he was warm.

He reached the floor of his cabin with a huff and heard someone closing the hatch above him. Carefully he set her on her feet and started shifting things around to make room for the bath. The table was pushed up against the bookcase and the clothing he hadn’t bothered to tidy in his frustration over the last couple of days was thrown on the bed out of the way.

It was only when he’d done that he turned to find her just standing there, shivering and dripping a puddle onto the cabin floor.

“Emma, you need to get out of your wet clothes, Love,” he said gently. His hand moving to her face, thumb brushing salt water and tears off her cheek. She leaned into him for a moment before she stilled, pulling back, looking up at him with sadness in her eyes before dropping her gaze to the floor.

“You don’t care,” she murmured quietly. “Stop pretending, please.”

Killian sighed and closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t care,” he confessed. “But even if I didn’t, I made your father a promise to get you to Neverland alive and well, and I intend to make good on that promise,” he told her firmly as his hand and hook moved to the buttons of her waterlogged coat.

Whatever the reason, she didn’t fight him as he unbuttoned her coat and pushed it off her shoulders and it fell to the floor with a wet slapping sound.

He grabbed a towel off the wash stand in the corner and started to dry her arms, hoping that the movement would help bring some heat back into her, but as she just stood there shivering he sighed and opened one of his trunks, pulling out a blanket and just wrapping it around her. Taking her hand, he moved over to one of the chairs and sat down, pulling her down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her. His hands moved up and down over the blanket trying to lend her as much warmth as he possibly could.

She leaned into him and he could feel her warm breath across his chest. When his hand ghosted over the back of her head, he could feel the lump from the bump that had knocked her out before she’d hit the water and had her struggling to remain conscious now.

“No falling asleep now, Princess. That’s an order,” he said quietly but firmly.

“Yes, Captain,” she mumbled sleepily and he shook her a little.

“I mean it, Swan. You had a knock on the head and you might have a concussion. If you want me to leave while you have your bath, you will not fall asleep,” he said, realising that even in her shivering half comatose state she would probably insist on an explanation.

She nodded, but neither of them got the chance to say any more as Smee opened the cabin door and two of the men negotiated a copper tub into his cabin.

“We’ll be back with the water in a moment, Captain,” Smee said. None of them looked at or made any comment about the way Emma was curled in his lap. None of them dared. They’d all seen how he’d been acting over the last couple of days and to stoke his ire now would have been a terrible mistake.

There was always some water heating in the galley, and although the cook stopped using the heat during the storm, it hadn’t lasted long enough to cool it completely, so the speed at which it was ready wasn’t a surprise.

But having her in his arms right now when he’d come so close to losing her was the only thing he could do to keep himself calm for now. He would have to go back up on deck soon to make sure everything was ship shape, but right now he needed to be sure he’d saved her. She needed his warmth, obviously, but this was more than that.

He was never going to get another chance to hold her again. So he held on tight as they waited for the water, knowing that once the tub was full he was going to have to let go.

Let her go.

The thought made him feel sick.

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Read the rest on AO3

#cs ff #neverland new year #neverland au #Captain Swan #Heart of the Saviour #ZaharaDessert writes #killian jones #emma swan #captain hook #princess emma #captain swan fanfiction

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btsqualityy · 3 years

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Assuage: Chapter 19

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

“You did what?!” Taehyung screamed and everyone in the room cringed from the sheer volume of his voice. After the chaos of the day, everyone was gathered in Namjoon and Hyorin’s cabin in an attempt to regroup and discuss what needed to happen next.

“Tae, let it go,” Jungkook whispered but Taehyung shook his head as he looked at his brother.

“Fuck that! I can’t believe you kicked Yoongi hyung out of the pack!” Taehyung yelled.

“It’s what had to be done,” Namjoon shrugged. “His loyalties came into question and I had to make a judgement call.”

“Oh yeah, so damn near choking him out was a part of that judgement call?” Taehyung scoffed.

“What?” You spoke up and everyone looked over at you as you were laid out on the couch, your head placed in Hyorin’s lap as she stroked your hair. “Joon.”

“He put the pack at risk, not to mention the fact that he betrayed you, Y/N-ah and Tae and all of us,” Namjoon pointed out. “Me choking him was honestly the least harmful thing that I could’ve done to him in that moment.”

“But he has nowhere to go and you know that!” Taehyung chastised.

“That’s not my fault Taehyung,” Namjoon spat back.

“Yeah well, you’re no better than Seo-hyun then,” Taehyung snorted and everyone in the room froze.

“Tae Tae,” Jimin tsked in disapproval but Namjoon held his hand up, silencing him.

“You know Tae, I realize that as our spoiled younger brother, the concept of responsibility may be lost on you but to me, it’s not,” Namjoon started. “As Pack Alpha, it is my job to ensure this pack’s safety. That means you, Y/N-ah, my mate, my pups, and everyone else that belongs to this pack.”

“So that means you would kick a member of this pack out if you thought that they endangered it? Even by accident?” Taehyung questioned.

“Yes, because that’s what has to be done sometimes,” Namjoon shot back. “Making difficult choices is what comes along with being Pack Alpha and it’s hard but you do what needs to be done in order to preserve the futures of the people who trust you. It’s a thankless job but I do it, without hesitation or reservation, because I fucking care and the last thing that I need is bullshit flack from one of the main people that I’m trying to look out for.”

“Joon hyung,” Taehyung tried to say but Namjoon swiftly turned his back and walked over to the front door, yanking it open and storming out. Hobi looked over at Hyorin and after receiving a nod from her, followed behind him and shut the door as he left.

“God, I can’t believe him,” Taehyung huffed as he began to pace back and forth around the living room.

“That was a low blow Taehyung, and you know it,” you admonished him. “Joon just did what he thought was best.”

“And you know how he can get sometimes,” Hyorin added. “Joon’s extremely intelligent but he’s still an Alpha and you know how Alphas react when they or the people that they care about have been threatened.”

“That’s no excuse though,” Taehyung replied.

“It’s just different for Alphas, Tae,” Jungkook said. “As much as I don’t agree with what Joon hyung did, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same if I were in his position. It’s about principle.”

“Fuck principle!” Taehyung exclaimed.

“This is all my fault,” you whispered suddenly and everyone immediately looked at you, shaking their heads firmly.

“No, it’s not,” Jin told you. “You fell in love and you can’t be blamed for that.”

“Yeah, but I fell in love with a lone wolf that we didn’t know from a hole in the wall,” you sniffled. “I didn’t even ask him to explain more about his old pack because I didn’t want to be insensitive but look where that got me. Where it got us.”

“It’s not like you knew,” Jimin tried to say. “And don’t blame yourself for trying to be respectful of someone’s trauma, there’s never anything wrong with that.”

“Jimin’s right, you don’t need to beat yourself up over this,” Hyorin agreed.

“But I can’t help but to feel so fucking dumb,” you huffed. “I let him spend my heat with me Hyo, all because my Omega liked his Alpha and I let that cloud my judgement. I should’ve thought things through more and not have rushed into it.”

“You let him spend your heat with you based on what you knew about him at the time,” Hyorin pointed out. “And don’t blame your Omega. Our wolf side doesn’t always follow the same logic as our human side but you know your Omega would never knowingly lead you astray. If your Omega trusted him, it’s because he made you feel like you could.”

“Something is off about all of this,” Taehyung announced suddenly, making everyone look over at him. “This entire situation just isn’t making sense.”

“What are you talking about?” Jin wondered.

“Y/N-ah, did you let Yoongi hyung explain when he came to talk to you?” Taehyung asked and you arched an eyebrow.

“What was there to explain Tae?” You questioned.

“I just don’t know if any of us should be taking Seo-hyun’s word at face value,” Taehyung explained. “We don’t know that there’s any truth to what he said other than him saying it and we all know he’s a liar and a master manipulator.”

“For your information, yes, Yoongi told me himself that he was from Seo-hyun’s pack and that he knew Seo-hyun was the one who killed our parents,” you revealed. “But even if he didn’t, just the fact that he either belonged or still belongs to that pack is enough for me to never want to see his face or smell his scent again.”

“Maybe you should back off a little Tae Tae,” Jimin suggested.

“Fine,” Taehyung huffed, reaching out and grabbing Jungkook’s hand before stalking over to the front door, pausing only to throw it open before stomping out.

“You know, I really think you should calm down,” Jungkook told him as they walked down the front steps of the cabin. “We should head home and get some sleep.”

“You go, I’m gonna go to the Head Hall,” Taehyung shook his head.

“I really don’t think Joon hyung wants to talk right now.”

“No, not to see him,” Taehyung rolled his eyes as he began to walk away from Jungkook. “I’m going to look through some history records.”

“History records?” Jungkook repeated. “History records of what?”

“The Great Pack War,” Taehyung smirked knowingly and Jungkook groaned loudly, knowing that his fiancée was up to something.

“I knew he wasn’t going to let this go,” Jungkook whispered to himself as he followed behind Taehyung.

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Since joining the Kim’s Pack, Yoongi hadn’t allowed himself to reflect back on the 10 years that he spent as a part of Seo-hyun’s pack but as he roamed around the woods carrying only a backpack and a duffle bag full of clothes while trying to find shelter for the night, it was almost as if his mind couldn’t help but to go back to that dark time.

Of course, his life in that pack wasn’t always completely horrible. As a pack comprised mostly of Prime Alphas, they were always seen as desirable so there was always an ample amount of Omegas to fuck and that were willing to treat him like a King. In addition to that, being in a pack with several amazing hunters and builders meant that food was always plentiful and the cabins that they lived in would’ve been the stuff of royalty, if they had been living in medieval times.

However, for every positive thing that Yoongi could remember about that pack, he could counter it with two negative things. Toxic masculinity was the basically the law that Seo-hyun’s pack lived by, and Yoongi couldn’t even remember how many times he had been referred to as weak by Seo-hyun and most of the other Alphas in the pack because he wasn’t a complete asshole like them.

He remembered how they would starve him if he didn’t hunt big enough animals. He remembered how getting into fist fights with other Alphas in the pack was the only way that he could somewhat prove himself and his worth. He could even remember the time when Seo-hyun demanded that he be chained up outside, in the dead of winter, all because he had given a pregnant Omega one of his extra blankets for her nest.

Yoongi’s life had been like a rollercoaster every since the Great Pack War had started and he had thought that maybe he had finally found a stable life that could make him happy with the Kim Pack. Boy, did he feel foolish now.

After walking for over an hour, Yoongi managed to find an abandoned cabin. After searching through it and finding no signs of human or animal life, he set his bags down and began to look through it. The cabin seemed to have been abandoned for a good while, so Yoongi figured that it was as good a place as any to stay while he figured out his next moves.

“I don’t even know what the fuck that would be,” Yoongi muttered to himself as he spread a blanket onto the old, ratty couch that was placed in what Yoongi assumed was once the living room before laying down on top of it. Actually, as he thought about it, Yoongi realized that this was the first time in his life that he had ever been truly alone. Sure, he felt alone after his parents died and he was left in Seo-hyun’s pack, and he had felt alone when he first joined the Kim’s Pack but there was something different about now.

Without any other bodies around, Yoongi found the silence deafening and with only his own thoughts to keep him company, he could only hope that he wouldn’t be forced to be left alone with them for too much longer.

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Tag List: @jikook-enthusiasts @veryuniquenamegoeshere @seolarsyj @littlrmills14-blog @preciouschimine @kt-rny @copenhagenspirit @min-yus @cheysjimin

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yuzukult · 3 years

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from home 02 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: ;n; wishing this was longer than i made it... please expect the next one to take a bit of time! but you never know. i’m unpredictable.

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2

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Waking up on an unfolded futon is no comparison to a deluxe California King bed with pearly white satin sheets.

For one, it meant that he wasn’t actually on the futon itself rather on the floor instead. Jungkook has been having an exertion amount of time trying to not fall off the limited dimensions of his now mattress. In addition to that, even after going grocery shopping, he feels like he’s spending an endless amount of money on a daily just to keep his fridge stocked because every time he pulls that door open— there’s nothing in the fridge. How is that even possible?

At times like these, he missed the personal chef. Sure, he couldn’t remember the gentleman’s name, but he made a mean grilled cheese sandwich. Instead, Jungkook enjoys a sad and limp piece of string cheese for breakfast.

For once, he’s grateful that the distance from home to work is short, really being an approximate 10 minute walk, meaning that he didn’t need to take an Uber or possibly buy a car? How did poor people transport from one place to another? He thinks of you on his route to work; the things you yelled at him the night on Hoseok’s yacht, how he purely innocently asked if he could pay for your future endeavors and the reaction he pulled from you that could only be described to be full of resentment. You really didn’t like him.

True be told, the feeling of hatred is mutual.

Jungkook dreads coming into work, mostly because the sight of you is a constant and the current impression he has of you is that you’re just plain mean and bossy. He hates that whenever he’s in the midst of a task, you manage to always slide in to critique every action he performs. How old did you think he was? Some thirteen year old with an adult job? While at the end of the line at the cashier’s station, Jungkook places the bread at the bottom of the brown bag but before he’s ready to drop the jug of milk on top, you shove his hand away. “You’re going to flatten the bread if you do it like that. Heavier duty items are at the end of the pile. Lighter and fragile items on top.” He scowls. Or when he’s in the parking lot, while lost in his thoughts, he nearly propels one of the carts directly into a moving car, and surprisingly enough, you’re standing outside beside him, swooping in with your fingers wrapped around the handlebars with sweat dripping from your forehead while halting the motions. “You almost dented that guy’s car!” He wants to tell you ‘and so what?’ but he refrains from saying anything because when he turns to look at you, you’re already halfway down the lot, making your way back indoors.

Then when he’s stacking the canned goods on the shelves, you approach him from behind and tell him that he’s doing it incorrectly. “What’s wrong about putting stuff on shelves?” He asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “The labels aren’t facing out. How are the customers supposed to know what it is?”

“Turn the can around?” He says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, so do it.”

When you walk away, he’s tempted to grab the canned corn he’s restocking and chuck it at the back of your head, but he holds himself back. This is for his mom, for the development of himself, to prove to his brothers that he wasn’t just some useless, spoiled kid. You didn’t believe in him anyway which is probably why you’re being so difficult— oh how he wished he could ask for a replacement trainer. So why waste his time trying to please you when he really just needs to sway his parents? The main goal is to get the money back into his pockets anyway.

Once finishing his list of tasks, he advances toward Hoseok who’s in the middle of mopping a spill in one of the aisles. Apparently, someone had dropped a jar of pickles, filling up the place with the stench of vinegar, scrunching up Jungkook’s nose. “Is she always this mean?”

Hoseok glances up from the pile of pickles on the ground, chin resting on the handle of the mop, discouraged to clean the mess. “Who?”

Jungkook skims the area to confirm that the coast is clear before he whispers your name discreetly. “I feel like she’s looking over my shoulder 24/7. It’s like she’s out to get me. Maybe she wants to catch me doing something stupid and get me fired.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes in response before finally crouching down to throw the scattered pickles into the trash bin beside him. “No, she doesn’t. You’re her responsibility, so if any higher ups saw you fucking around or fucking up and find out that she’s the one who’s supposed to train you, she’d lose her job. She can’t afford that, Kook.” Jungkook sighs, observing Hoseok as he’s trying to gently pick up the piece of glass that’s drenched in the juices. “Well? Are you just going to stand there and watch after what I just told you? Help me!”

Abiding by instruction, Jungkook still sighs heavily, bending his knees to grab the pickles cautiously between his index finger and thumb. This is rancid, and the way his face contorts in disgust when he flings it into the trash can says it all. He can’t believe that he’s in this position right now when he could be sitting in the middle of a golf course on a Wednesday morning, enjoying his fifth glass of merlot, with a pretty girl by his side, complimenting him every time he swings his golf club. “I miss the rich life. I don’t know how you do this everyday. Is this even worth it for you?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he grabs the last piece of glass on the floor as Jungkook tosses a handful of pickles he grabbed previously. “I just didn’t want my parents controlling where the money was going anymore. And I got tired of being called a prodigal. I wanted to be someone who could do things themselves without having my parents giving me money.”

“But how could you hate that! Isn’t that their job as parents? Taking care of you, giving you more than you need? That includes money. We’re just lucky because our parents are rich.”

Standing up from his position, Hoseok brushes his hands off on his apron as Jungkook follows in suit. “But that’s what I mean. Do you hear yourself? The ‘we’re just lucky because our parents are rich’ thing is getting old. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be just as rich but I want to be wealthy myself, not because my parents gave me the means to be.”

Hoseok makes a point but not one that Jungkook can fully grasp onto. He understood where the older male was coming from, but truth be told, Jungkook still wanted his parents’ wealth in the end. Hoseok had dreams he was chasing, ones where cutting ties from his parents would be beneficial but to Jungkook, he didn’t have any aspirations of his own to obtain like that.

“Anyway, I digress. She means well. She needs this and that café job too. Her parents don’t have any type of money, if anything, she purposely cut herself off from them so that they wouldn’t have to pay for her. Moving back home is her personal embarrassment, just like how being kicked out of your home is yours.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

Hoseok pulls his lips into a tight line, dropping the mop into the bucket to extract the vinegary liquid out. “Work with it. Be better than what she’s asking for. I learned a lot from her and I’m sure you can too. Who knows? Maybe she’ll pick a couple things from you along the way.”

That’s when he tests the waters.

For the past two hours, that’s exactly what Jungkook does. He tries. Harder than usual. When you walk by, he is especially polite to customers with the brightest smile his cheeks will allow. Or when he’s back to organizing cans on the shelves, he’s attempting to show all the labels, but you’re back, questioning why he’s even stacking cans with dents in them. Then there’s the time he’s standing at the station for the self-checkout... but he gets distracted while playing on his phone and you nearly smack the living shit out of him.

“Why do you freaking hate me so much?” He exasperates, arms dropping at his sides from frustration. The shift is finally over, thank god, but he’s still on edge as to why you always have something to say, so he chases after you into the locker room. “All you do is attack me the entire day and it’s already difficult for me to adjust to being here.”

“Listen, I get it. It’s hard. Well, I don’t really get it because I’ve been working most of my life, but this is completely new territory for you. Regardless, you still have to learn how to do this, Jungkook. Your parents aren’t going to be supporting you anymore.” Wrong. Wrong because in his mind, his parents are going to welcome him with open arms when he proves his capabilities. This situation is only temporary. “So, I want to help you. If you really need anything, here’s my number. Call me.”

“Is this a way for you to get my number?” Jungkook raises a brow suggestively. Clicking your tongue, you circle back into your locker, grabbing your bag of items. “Trust me, you would’ve known if I wanted to get in your pants. Plus, I’m giving you my number, not asking for yours, dumbass.” Flinging a crumpled piece of paper at his forehead that so happens to have your number on it, he pouts after rubbing his head. “Rude.”

“Jungkook,” You’re speed walking out of the supermarket with Jungkook trailing behind you as quickly as he can keep up with. Did you run track before? “I really don’t want to hear your excuses about why you were snooping on me while I was changing my shirt.” He didn’t see you changing, he merely caught a glimpse, but even so, it was only a bit of your tummy that he saw.

Nonetheless, he knows you’re just joking because of the light laughter that escapes from your lips afterwards that sounds like the melody of his favorite song. Maybe you weren’t so bad after all. Maybe it was just a facade you had to put up at work most of the time. “I wasn’t—“

“Jungkook.”

You freeze at the sound of his name; Jungkook’s reaction is delayed as he bumps into you from behind while his head turns to the voice. “Jungsik Hyung.”

Jeon Jungsik. Also labeled as the 3rd child or middle son of the Jeon Family. He’s known to be the philanthropist, the humanitarian of the Jeons, donating his percentage of the earnings from his family’s corporation to a different charity each time he’s the headline of an article. Jungsik in person is even more handsome than the pictures you’ve googled online; simply breathtakingly beautiful just like his personality and heart. Undercut hair with a navy blue suit that compliments his figure, he has a clean appearance with a demeanor that is nothing more than a calm and gentle nature. Despite all the greatness he possessed, he unfortunately had to go through the loss of his late wife, who the doctors had discovered she had cancer, later choosing to spend her last days in Africa, teaching the children English.

You may have looked up the prettiest Jeon brother on every search engine on a random Tuesday night, sitting on the floor with your laptop perched on the coffee table, glass of moscato in hand. Dating a guy like him would be a dream— yet, there you were, getting shit-faced drunk on moscato with a mud mask that was hardening on your face.

Your thoughts are interrupted at the tail end of Jungkook’s introduction between you and his brother, bowing abruptly at the realization. “... She works here. Currently occupied with training me.”

Jungsik grins, pearly whites blinding your eyes. “Admirable. Thank you for looking out for our little Kook. He’s not the best at working, so I figure he must’ve made things difficult for you.”

“Occasionally,” You joke, replicating the contagious smile on his face. “But don’t worry, Jungkook will get there. Once his training portion is over, I’m sure he’ll manage.” That’s not what you said at Hoseok’s yacht, is what he wants to say, but definitely not in front of the angelic brother. Jungsik chuckles deeply at your response, tips of his ears flushing pink at your interactions, and it makes Jungkook cringe.

“That’s great. I’m sure that you two have had a long day, so is there any way I can treat you guys to dinner?”

You can feel Jungkook’s hot breath down your neck, fuming with anger with smoke probably whistling out of his ears. “Why, why, why did you agree for us to have dinner with Jungsik? This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me!” He whispers aggressively beside you but you only ignore his reaction by flipping another piece of pork on the grill. “And why the hell would you suggest coming to this dump? He said he would take us out to a five-star restaurant!”

Admittingly so, a Korean BBQ joint located in some-what of an alleyway is far from a fancy restaurant, but this place was good, your favorite, and why not introduce Jungsik and Jungkook to food that doesn’t need caviar for it to be considered delicious?

Jungsik excused himself, looking kind of out of place in this low-ceiling location, but he forced a smile anyway before looking for the bathroom. “We can just tell him that we have to go or that you’re not feeling so well. He’ll let us make a run for it, trust me.”

You glance over at Jungkook. “You can do that. I’m staying.”

“But why!”

“Because he seems nice.” You’re adding more meat on the grill again. “Plus, I’m starving. I was going to come here anyway.” Jungkook pauses, watching as you casually maneuver the food with the prongs. “... You were going to eat alone?”

Dropping the prongs, you pick up your set of chopsticks to grab yourself a piece of kimchi. “Well, yeah. Who else am I supposed to eat with?” You shake your head, jumping back on topic. “If you want to leave, feel free. I’m still going to be here.”

“Hell no. I’m not leaving you with Jungsik hyung.”

Tilting your head with narrowed eyes, you blink. “What’s wrong with Jungsik? He’s literally an angel. Like I actually can’t believe that you guys are brothers.”

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip anxiously as if he’s holding back. “I just think he’s not a good guy. So I’ll stay.”

“Sorry I took so long,” Jungsik places his blazer on the seat beside him, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up. “I just needed to wash up. So... how long have you been working at my mother’s supermarket?”

You hum in thought, counting the months from when you first started. It was during University, possibly around the time you were starting your second year... “Probably around three years? And the café... maybe two? I think I’m approaching two.”

Jungsik’s mouth gaps open. “Wait, you work at my mother’s café as well?” Nodding in response, you place a couple of the meats onto Jungsik’s plate as Jungkook eyes you carefully. “Tuition doesn’t pay itself. And I plan to start a business one day, so two jobs is the only way to get to that finish line.”

“I—I offered to pay,” Jungkook interjects into the conversation, feeling like he’s the third wheel suddenly. “I told her she didn’t need to work the two jobs and I’d help her pay for the bakery.” That’s when Jungsik’s gaze meets Jungkook’s; his stare is unreadable and Jungkook can’t place a finger on what’s running through his mind. “Are you two... dating?”

“Why does everyone ask that?”

“Well, Jungkook is offering to pay for your business,” Jungsik begins, watching the expression on his younger sibling’s face who reciprocates the action, “and he never does that.” He pauses for a moment before breaking the staring competition with Jungkook, fixating back onto you. “But then again, Jungkook spends the family’s money heedlessly, so that’s expected. I’m sure your business is legitimate, but Jungkook probably didn’t even do any research before gifting you that proposition. And I don’t really see Jungkook in a relationship, let alone someone like you, anyways. No offense. I think you’re great, hence why I don’t think he could even land you.”

Cheeks flushing pink, you dip your head. “Thanks.”

There it was. Even when in front of a stranger, Jungsik is just like his other brothers, shamelessly speaking about Jungkook in a condescending manner. Jungkook confesses that Jungsik’s hypothesis is right— Jungkook did exactly do all those things he listed, but that doesn’t mean anything. It was a kind gesture, one that he figured Jungsik would’ve done himself, and he couldn’t see what was wrong with the decisions he had made. You were passionate about a dream, realistic with the expectations, and had mutual friends with him. He felt like despite the constant bickering, he still trusted you. More than his own siblings, at least.

The silence between the three of you was swelling, tension predominantly between the two males, so you shatter that glass by placing some beef on Jungkook’s plate. “Try that.”

“... You want me to try that? I don’t eat regular grade beef.”

“Well kid, you do now because you can’t afford any of the kobe stuff. Come on, Jungkook, just give it a shot.” Grabbing a bed of lettuce, you place a piece of garlic, swipe of gochujang paste, and drop a slice of beef onto it before wrapping and bringing it close to his mouth. “Here, try it like this.”

Jungkook can feel it. The way Jungsik studies the actions between you and Jungkook was a test. Jungsik traveled far and wide, spent time in first and third world countries, eating things that Jungkook can only imagine of eating... well, he doesn’t want to imagine some of those things, but ultimately enough, he’s testing the waters. Jungsik would go home later that night, report this to the other four siblings and to his parents in the luxurious dining room where they’d have their meetings, which meant one thing: he had to eat this concoction that you’ve created.

You lift the lettuce wrap up, gesturing him to open wide. Slowly, he parts his lips, just enough for you to thrust it into his mouth as he winces, the juices from the meat spilling out from the sides. As you wipe the spill with a napkin, his eyes dilate with a sparkle. "Holy shit. That's good."

Jungsik lets go of a breath he's been holding. "I didn't think you'd actually eat that. Don't think I've seen you eat anything without caviar, gold flakes or truffles."

Jungkook turns to his older brother, cheeks full of the lettuce that you've fed him. "Well, you thought wrong. I'm different now, hyung, and it hasn't even been that long since I've left home."

"Correction, since mother kicked you out." He retorts, attention turning back onto you. "Anyway, thank you. This amount on my plate should be enough for me tonight as for I already had a very large dinner before stopping by the market. I'm going to have to leave after this— but feel free to order as much as you like, I'll keep my card on the tab."

"Oh," Face crimson, you wave your hands in front of you in disagreement, "Don't do that. I don't mind paying."

"No, no," Jungsik says, taking a mouthful of the meat into his mouth. "It's the least I could do since you're looking after my little brother. After all, he needs all the help he can get."

When Jungsik says goodbye and exits the store, Jungkook found it inevitable to ponder why his brother decided to come by anyway. Despite his common reputation of being the sweetest and most caring Jeon, he was known to be devious to those who were close to him, shady majority of the time, and every step he made had a reasoning behind it.

The moment Jungsik steps out of the restaurant, he spits out the chewed up beef behind the door, eyes meeting with Jungkook through the windows before a mischievous smile stretches from cheek to cheek. What was he up to?

Inhaling sharply, he shoves it under the rug for future thought. "Enjoying the food?"

"Mmm," You hum, cheeks full of rice and kimchi, an unrecognizable amount of joy written across your face. "So good. Definitely worth dealing with you and your brother's weird relationship. Is this what it's like with all of your siblings?" In spite of the grain of rice stuck to your chin, he oddly thinks this sight of you is... cute.

"Usually. They aren't really fans and disagree with almost all of my life choices except for going to University. I graduated with all honors and on the Dean's List multiple times yet I'll never be up to their standards."

"Well, to be fair, those gossip magazines talked a lot about your scandals." You grab a napkin to wipe the area around your mouth and he suddenly misses the rice that rested on your face.

"What? A twenty-three year old guy can't sleep around? What's wrong with that?"

You shake your head in response, leaning back against the metal chair that begins to bring discomfort to your tailbone. "Nothing wrong with that, but your choices on who you decide to bed is definitely controllable. You keep luring in those rich girls who do nothing all day but spread rumors and make it their life goal to assure your life is a living hell." Tapping your fingers against the table, your lips purse up in thought before resting your arms beside your plate. "Wanna order some drinks? It's on your brother's tab and you seem like you need to loosen up a little."

Five shots of charm soju in, Jungkook's supple skin is flushed red.

"I only sleep with those types of girls because I think they have somewhat potential in dating me. But in the end, they're all the same. So I just end the night with a quick bang and go home." Strangely enough, even with Jungkook's history with drinking, he's actually a lightweight. You'd think he had a better tolerance with his constant intake but you've been proven otherwise.

Eyes hooded and face pressed against the palm of his hand while his elbows rest against the wooden table, he hums to an unfamiliar tune. "I just want to get through this part of my life. Bring home someone who's steady, realistic, and liked by my entire family where they actually have hope in me again."

"You can, just don't bring any of those girls home again." Alcohol doesn't hit you as hard as Jungkook does, or at least, five shots doesn't, but you admit you're a bit tipsy. "I'm sure someone like that will fall for you. You're like... pretty and with money."

He scoffs. "Hoseok would frown at that response. He hates when people associate him with his parents' wealth. I don't understand it."

"It's like when your family thinks you're incapable of working hard. People think he's incapable of working, too. In this case, associate him with his parents' money, and for you, they just think you won't make it out here alive because of your choices. You're both on the path of proving yourselves competent."

There's silence between the two of you, Jungkook deep in thought.

If Hoseok was on the same route as he was, why was Hoseok's approach entirely different? Why didn't he feel the same drive and motivation as Hoseok does, and why does it make him believe that there was another way to solve this issue? Instead of trying to make enough money to move out, he could just feed off of his parents' money and use it towards something else, earn money off of that and spend that newly collected money that was now truly his. Which brings to question, how can he hit two birds with one stone? Both introduce his parents to someone who was totally out of his league yet loved by them and demonstrate his ability to work?

Bingo. The answer is sitting right there in front of him. You.

You were a hard-working middle class citizen. From juggling two jobs to being a graduate at some University, you knew what it felt like to be poor. You hated people who bathed in wealth, especially when it's claimed to not be their own and stood for your beliefs. If Jungkook brought you home to present to his parents, they'd be so jubilant that he could imagine his stubborn, stone-cold face father doing cartwheels, mother's cheeks in pain from all the grinning, and brothers looking defeated, envied erroneously.

"Tell me a bit more about yourself, I feel like I don't really know you." There. If he studies you enough, maybe you'd be willing to jump in on his plan. After all, he still has to determine what he can offer you in this portion of his scheme to convince you to deceive his family, especially since you seemed to be fond of both Jungsik and his mother. "... Why are you suddenly interested?"

He shrugs. "I just wanna know. Where did you go to school, why did you choose a bakey, etcetera. If I'm going to be working with you, I should probably get to know you a bit better. Maybe I'll feel more inclined to cooperate." It was like in mere seconds, Jungkook wasn't intoxicated anymore— completely sober.

So you play his little game, it wouldn't hurt, right? "Got a scholarship to study abroad, so I was in New York for a couple years. Don’t get me wrong though, since it’s the US, it wasn’t a full scholarship, but I didn’t have any other opportunities that I wanted. Then graduated with a degree in Food Science. Then parents needed some money so I had to come back right after graduation and pick up a job at your mom's supermarket, paid off their debt and now I'm just trying to pay off mine. I also needed to put some sense to my degree and well... I loved baking in my free time. It was all I did when I was stressed from exams."

"You studied in New York?" If he wasn't sober a couple minutes ago, he was now.

You nod in response, finishing the last portion of pork that sits idly on your plate. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"But you started working at the market three years ago?" He asks, the space between his brows crinkle, trying to count the months in his head. He also takes note that he's older than you and that it'd come in handy later. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I finished high school early." The sizzle of the grill dies down, the ventilator shutting off from the lack of smoke. "I jumped a couple grades."

"A... couple grades. A couple grades, it doesn't sound like just 'a couple,' you literally graduated college at the age of what... fifteen?" He heaves, completely taken aback by this new information. "And then graduated college at eighteen? Yet you're working at a grocery store and some coffee shop when you could be running an entire company."

"Well, when you say it like that—"

"Okay, I have a proposition for you. Let's date." You nearly choke on the water you're drinking. "What?"

"Fake date, really. Be my fake girlfriend. You're a year younger than me, got a college degree at eighteen with attainable aspirations that I could cater to once my parents give me access to their money again. The entirety of this conversation is only giving me more reasons to invest in our relationship, to invest in you, and it'll benefit me in return." You squint your eyes at him suspiciously, but he continues. "My mom already likes you. Jungsik even thinks you're too good for me and that there's no way that you'd ever date me. If you actually did, imagine the look on his face!"

"Jungkook," You sigh, running your fingers through your loosen strands of hair. "I don't know. This seems wrong, lying to your family. They only want the best for you."

"Absolutely not. My brothers want to see me fail. If you agree to do this, I can show you what I'm talking about."

Hesitant, you nibble on the hardened dry skin on your lips, heart racing in uneasiness. "But you'd be giving up a lot. No more flings, no more getting wasted... you'd have to be completely serious and on board if you do this. It has to be convincing. But at the same time, how long and how are we going to keep this up?"

"Maybe until you get your shop up and running so that you're able to stabilize it yourself. I'm sure that wouldn't take long anyway, and it would be a great business deal if we go through with this. You'd be out of debt, starting your own bakery, all in a shorter span of time than intended. And all you have to do is come home with me to see my parents occasionally, attend some events, hold my hand, maybe exchange a couple kisses— but nothing out of your comfort zone though, I respect boundaries."

With how his hand gestures move, and how the ideas flow from his mind so effortlessly, you could've sworn that Jungkook was a con-artist. His words were a shell of plausibles and credibility— up to the point you had to tell yourself to stop and take a breather because all this material was starting to sound reasonable, and from your lack of experience with Jungkook, he wasn't the most reliable person you've met. "I'm going to have to think about this. As great as it sounds for me, it doesn't seem like much of a character development path for you."

"But it would," he asserts, putting emphasis in the way he speaks, "I'm investing in something I believe in. A business, one that I see potential in, in a person that I see potential in."

"Jungkook, you met me last week."

"Which is why it makes it even more impactful!" He exclaims, arms thrown in the air. "I know you hate me. But you have the qualities of what would help me get myself back into the estate. I'm not even sure if I'm written out of the will yet, and I'm praying that this whole 'changing' thing won't take so long that the idea is going to be thrown out the window."

"I really don't hate you, I just want people like you to be more aware of what's going on in the real world. They all view the lives of people like me through a sheer shower curtain with diamonds and pearls wrapped around their bodies, laughing away. It's like you don't see the problems we face everyday."

"And as much as I don't want to do that, let that be part of the deal. Get one 'ignorant' rich guy out of that stereotypical pool, and teach me how to be better. Then, I'll also be on the road to being a more... empathetic and educated man."

Puffing up your cheeks, you look away for a brief moment. “I still want some time to think about this.”

“That’s fine. But also, one more thing.” You turn your gaze to fixate back onto him. “Yeah?”

“Don’t eat alone if you don’t have to. Call me, I’ll keep you company.”

"... So I asked her to be my fake girlfriend." Jungkook ends the story of how your ‘fake love’ blossomed under the fluorescent lighting and smoke from the grill at a barbecue shack hidden in an alleyway.

Hoseok's jaw drops to the floor. "W-What?" He stutters, appalled by Jungkook's proposal for you. How could Jungkook just bring up an arrangement like that so effortlessly? Without even a second thought? "And what did she say?"

"That she needs to think about it a little more."

He sighs of relief, pushing his hair back through his fingers. "Good. Because she has a horrible history with guys. It always seems to go down in flames. I could only imagine what it means if she dated you."

"It's a fake relationship, what could possibly go wrong?"

"You might fall in love with her. Or worse, she'll fall in love with you. Literally every fanfic and romance movie trope that has to do with fake dating. Plus, imagine if she fell in love with you." He shivers at the thought.

“What’s wrong with me? Why are you making it sound like it’s the worst thing ever if she even so likes me like that? I don’t even think she’ll fall for me anyway. The mere thought of me seems to disgust her.”

Grabbing another box of cereal to restock, he rolls his eyes. "You really don’t get it, do you? It’s more like... you're not going to be serious about her if she did. You don't even know what it means to be in a committed relationship, let alone know how to handle a fake one. If she falls in love with you, she's done for. Then her guy streak really is horrible. You’re putting her in a tough spot, Jeon."

Tearing open another cardbox box full of inventory, Jungkook frowns in thought. What if you did fall in love with him? How would he go about that? Would he still invest in your business then? Taking a moment to let the ideas sink in, he’s already decided. "I'd still invest in her." He concludes. "Isn't that part of the journey? Learning how to be professional? If she falls in love with me, I'll give her space. But I still believe in her business and her goals to open one."

"But you don't even know her," Hoseok reminds him, stopping in the midst of his actions. "She really needs this. If you so much have any doubt of leaving this plan, she'll be devastated. Everything that she has worked hard for has to be halted because she trusts you. You can't play with people's lives like that."

"It's just a business," Jungkook clarifies, but Hoseok shakes his head in dismissal. "This is her life's work, Jeon. Have you even really talked to her about this? You need to either call this off or have a written contract or something because you're not only diminishing her love life, but her dreams too. So really think about this."

Jungkook slouches, body barely standing up against the shelves. “She still has time to decide. Trust me, Hobi, if she does fall in love with me, I’ll take care of her and make sure that she’ll still be able to have the business.” Hoseok eyes Jungkook in disbelief. “You found out she’s younger than you, didn’t you? I can already hear it in your tone. Don’t overlook the age, she’s still lightyears of experience ahead of both of us combined.”

unknown [6:22PM]: so, what’s the verdict? unknown [6:23PM]: my fault, it’s jungkook.

Letting out a large exhale, you shut your lids, phone in the palm of your hand after viewing the texts, allowing your body to fall against the wall behind you.

It’s another late shift at the coffee shop, one that ends around 2am before the cycle of waking up for an additional eight hours at the Jeon market. Although the bags and dark circles that begin to reside underneath your eyes are evidence to your exhaustion, gradually taking a toll on your body. The days were getting shorter, nights stretching longer, and you weren’t sure when your next day off would even be.

Then the thoughts of your loans come to mind. There was another email sent to your mailbox, reading that the next bill was approaching and due soon, causing the weight on your shoulders to inflate. If only the figurative load built your muscles because then you’d be able to pick up a job on a construction site, possibly making a bit more money than you do now with both jobs combined.

You glance at Jungkook’s text again.

The belief that you were independent goes out the window if you cave into Jungkook’s premise. You were practically selling your body at that point... but your personality was part of the package as well. Then there was the lying— you admit, being yourself around the Jeons was easy, but having to lie to them about dating Jungkook seemed... difficult. They were relatively smart people, what if they’re able to see right through your act? And what about Jungkook’s past? Would it continue to haunt you during the relationship?

For instance, what about the women he dated? Rephrase: slept with. There’s pretty much a guarantee that scandals would arise with the announcement that Jungkook was going steady with someone who wasn’t an aristocrat, a child of money. What about you stood out that Jungkook would fall for you to convince other people that you were good enough to be part of their world?

But you go back to your debt.

The biggest regret yet also your biggest accomplishment was going to college in New York.

The expansion of knowledge you were able to obtain during your years there was irreplaceable. If anything, really, it molded you to the person you are today. But at the same time, the debt was like a dark, rainy cloud that followed you around wherever you went.

Having to plan your every expense week by week was draining.

Declining meetings with friends because you couldn’t afford to pay for your portion of the meal, let alone for everyone else.

Jungsik offering to pay for dinner despite your inclination to decline and pay for yourself was a blessing. Veritably thankful that he didn’t take your ‘no’ as answer and left his credit card, if you were being completely honest, you wouldn’t have picked that location if you knew he wasn’t going to pay for it. It’s been a while since you were able to afford KBBQ.

You weren’t poor, no, or at least, you believed yourself not to be. Just... all your money seemed to go toward your debt and savings account for the bakery.

Feeling demoralized, you’re tempted to text Jungkook to let him know you’re surrendering, but he beats you to it.

unknown [6:30PM]: i just want to be able to help the both of us. you can lead the relationship, i’ll follow. i know how much your independence means to you, so... i’ll bottom. unknown [6:31PM]: be mine? you [6:31PM]: 🏳️ (white flag)

Sliding your phone back into the back pocket of your jeans, you make your way back behind the counter with two girls who studied at the university nearby, giggling and slapping each other’s arms elatedly. You’re slightly envious of their lighthearted laughter, wishing that you could do so freely without this heavy feeling in your chest, yet you push those feelings aside anyway, a smile tugging on the edges of your lips. “What are you two laughing about?”

“Jiwoo has a crush!” Injae exclaims, pushing the aforementioned girl to the side with a cackle. “She saw him working at the supermarket you worked at the other day and I swore I saw her staring at him in awe, a river of drool coming out of her mouth. Should’ve put a wet floor sign—“

“Injae!” Jiwoo whines, bottom lip jutting out. “Stop embarrassing me in front of Unnie. She probably thinks we’re immature.” Not really. You kind of wished you had a crush too. The butterflies in your stomach, hands palmy and cheeks flushed pink. Eagerness to see the person; each touched exchange making your heart race faster... “Who’s the guy?”

Injae glances over at you mischievously as you watch her prepare to get hit by Jiwoo. “Jeon Jungkook—” Slap slap slap. Injae’s arm is definitely going to be red tomorrow morning if not right now. But oh, Jungkook? The one you just agreed to date about 5 minutes ago over text?

“I think he has a girlfriend.” You respond uneasily, chewing on the nail of your thumb anxiously. “Who?”

“Hey,” The three of you turn to the customer, quickly straightening your postures and aprons until your eyes meet his, halting your breath. Jungkook has a knack for timing because there he stands, hair disheveled from probably rushing over, in a grey hoodie and baby blue jeans with tears at the knees. “What’s good here?” Yet his gaze doesn’t shift from you. Legs rooted into the ground, mouth parted in surprise, you finally shake yourself out of ice before clearing your throat. The girls seem to be just as stunned as you are because they haven’t moved an inch.

“Cold brew is my personal favorite. But if you want a safe option, americano is great too.” Logging into the iPad, you’re ready to tap in his order but grabs onto your wrist and you grimace. “Can we talk?”

“... You could just say that and not grab me, Jeon. Not everything has to be a K-Drama moment.” In all honesty, you were kind of embarrassed of the girls knowing your newly found relationship with Jungkook. He was definitely not your kind of guy, his brother Jungsik probably being closest to your ideal type and even the girls knew that.

Sitting by the window and across from Jungkook with your fingers tapping against the plastic cup with your cold brew inside, he continues to observe your face briefly while drinking a sip of the americano. You don’t even take a second to look at him, rather your attention is glued to the crescent moon out the window. “White flag? That’s all you can say?”

“How did you want me to respond?”

“Yes or no? Are you usually such a dry texter?” He rebuttals, prepared for anything you throw his way. He’s learning, you take note, because he usually just stands there dumbfounded whenever you’d shoot back with a response.

“Yes, it means yes, I surrender and I agree to your terms. We can date, I’ll be your girlfriend, you can be my boyfriend, blah blah.”

“Not my terms,” He says, rephrasing his text. “Your terms. You’re leading this relationship, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable just because I suggested the idea. I’m not a jackass, you know. I don’t even sleep with women who say no.”

“Are you supposed to get a ‘congrats’ or reward for that? Because that’s the bare minimum, Jeon.”

“You know what I mean,” He retorts back. “I respect women.”

“But lead them on and sleep with them even though you know that you don’t want a relationship with them but they want a relationship with you—“

“Now I have you.” Jungkook interrupts firmly. “I’m having a serious, committal relationship with you. No more of those girls anymore.” You nearly felt your heart swell out of your chest cavity but you remember that he’s just saying it to convince you to date him, despite the fact that you’ve already agreed to it.

“I don’t get where you’re going with this conversation. If you got the answer you wanted and expected to hear, I’m leaving. I’m still on the clock, you know.”

“Quit then.” You scoff at his swift resolution. He’s too impulsive. “I can’t just quit. I need the money.”

“I said I’d help you pay for those things, did you already forget? That’s what this arrangement is all about.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand from your seat, snatching your drink along with you. “In case you forgot, you don’t have the money yet. I agreed to be your girlfriend, happy?” He looks like a puppy with his round eyes peering through his shaggy hair, grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “I am. This means you have to let me do boyfriend things for you.”

“Fine.” You respond through your gritted teeth. Truth be told, you want him out of the café as soon as possible because the college kids behind the counter were starting to whisper. “But you still have to treat this professionally when we’re at work.”

“Deal, love.” His teeth are peeking from his excitement. You squint your eyes at him. “Jungkook.” You warn.

“You’re at work, I’m not.”

You’re going to strangle him.

Walking out of the supermarket after another long night shift, you’re stuck between Jungkook and Hoseok as they exchange stories of parties they previously attended, emitting a sigh from you.

“Tired of our old shenanigans, baby?” Jungkook teases, tugging on the sleeve of your jacket. Hoseok shoots Jungkook a glare. “You’re going to die tonight if you keep that up, man. She’s scary when she’s mad.”

“Oh please. She likes it when I play around.” The innocent smile on his face makes you want to punch it in. “No,” Hoseok says, pulling Jungkook over to his side and looping his arm with yours. “She’s hungry. Let’s go tame this beast.”

Jungkook just stares.

The three of you are at a 24 hour convenience store just outside his house, three bowls of ramen prepped at the table while you all sit on the stools provided. “What’s this? How was it made so fast?”

“It’s ramen, dumbass,” You hiss, breaking the wooden chopsticks that Jungkook watches in reverence. “It’s literally called instant ramen. You’ve never had it before?”

“I’ve had ramen in Japan.”

“Oh, dude, you’re going to be so disappointed when you have this then.” Hoseok laughs then winces when you kick his shin underneath the table. Gesturing the bowl and Jungkook to Hoseok, he frowns, tearing the paper wrapping off the chopsticks and hands to the younger male. “Do what she just did. Break it.”

“Break... this? Chopsticks? Who invented these?”

“Does it matter?” You chime in. “Just break it. Hurry up, we’re trying to show you how this works so we can eat. Why are you acting like an alien? You’ve seen chopsticks before.”

“Well, honestly, at the Jeon estate, we only use—“

“Fuck what you use at the Jeon estate. We’re at the...” Turning to look at the sign above the store, you point to the logo. “... KTH 24 CONVENIENCE. They’re telling us to quickly break our chopsticks so we can go nomnom.” Rapidly, he attempts to snap the chopsticks, only for it to crack unevenly and you stifle a laugh.

“... Good try,” Hoseok shakes his head, tearing the rest of the lid off of the bowl. “Maybe you’ll be better next time. You’re stuck with your screw up now, but least you can still enjoy your shitty bowl of ramen noodles.”

Jungkook swallows. The sight of the noodles floating in soup that looks painfully diluted with water, the aroma from the bowl was still alluring. Stirring the soup, he finally picks up a portion with his wonky chopsticks, blowing on it before taking a bite.

It’s... actually not bad.

“How is it?” Your voice is calmer and much more soothing than it had been a minute ago, but he makes the assumption that it’s because you’ve finally gotten food in your stomach. He takes note of this for future reference. “Oddly enough, not bad. I kind of like it.”

“Well, get used to it. It’s cheap and efficient. You’re part of the broke squad now, Jungkook.”

Broke Squad. Feels nice to be part of something.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gyukultfics

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fa-headhoncho · 3 years

Text

Untitled TFATWS Fic: Part 4

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: You raid the Flag Smasher's base with Walker and Hoskins, bringing back unwanted memories.

Word Count: 2701 (sorry lol)

Reader: Female

Warning: non-con kissing, nudity, blood

Author's Note: lmk for taglist

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

=====

“Ich habe keine Ahnug, wovon du sprichst.” The man sternly says, taking a step to size up Hoskins. “Ihr Amerikaner seid brutal geworden.” He insults causing you to tense, but in a way you knew he was right and it frustrated you. The GRC had good intentions but they didn’t understand what these people were going through.

Hell, you didn’t understand what they were going through. When Steve and the Avengers took you in, it wasn’t exactly a bad situation compared to what others had to deal with during the Blip. Especially with the ones who came back to nothing to their name anymore. The volunteer work made you realize that and it conflicted you. The Flag Smashers had a worthy cause and they were banding together in the wrong way.

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit!” Walker whines out causing you to tense. The tone wasn’t nice and you knew the three of you didn’t come all the way to Germany for nothing. He was getting angry, there was something here and something he had to prove. “We know she came through here. Now, where’d she go?” He demands, his voice threatening.

The man directs his attention to the Captain and looks him up and down. Walker’s stance straightens and you can see his fist balled at his sides. Over the short time of getting to know the new Captain America, you could tell he was falling apart a bit in this situation. Honestly, he wasn’t the worse guy when it came down to the bare bones of things but power can do wonders to a corrupt mind.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise when the German fellow spits on America’s new golden boy. The blonde lets out a sigh, showing he was physically restraining himself to jump on the guy. He looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes narrowing and his head tilted towards the target. The look was the familiar that made your mind flashback to the countless times a Hydra official gave the same look.

Mind going into autopilot, the boys separate like they’ve done these a million times. You stalk forward and brace your forearm, shoving the man back and holding him against the pillar behind him.

“Do you know who I am?” Walker screams out from behind you making you snap back to reality. You immediately release him and step back, the blonde taking your spot in front of him with a threatening gaze.

“Yes I do, and I don’t care.” The man spits back and you see a shift in Walker’s eyes. There was a flash of hurt then it switched to frustration, quickly regaining his facade, blocking out any emotion in his eyes. He leans forward slightly and you think he’s about to punch the guy but he steps back.

The officers start to cuff the man while Walker whispers something to Hoskins and then walks away. You watched with a dazed expression on your face, not believing you fell back into your old ways so quickly with just one gaze. There was a part of you still stuck in your past that you didn’t know about until Walker had you join him in this assignment. It frightened you.

A gentle hand rests on your shoulder bringing you out of your negative thoughts. Looking up, you see Hoskin’s kind eyes. “You okay?” He asks in a sincere tone which slightly surprises you. The little voice in the back of your head told you that it was just him trying to manipulate you like they used to and that it was their fault that you were back into all this however a much louder one says otherwise.

You shake your head, forcing a tight-lipped smile to appear on your face. “Yea,” You breathe out and slowly repeat the mantra your therapist had taught you years ago. He stands there for a moment, the internal battle in his mind playing in his eyes.

“I know this isn’t the ideal situation for you but we really do appreciate your help.” His grip on your shoulder tightens in a comforting manner. “I understand Walker hasn’t been the… kindest to you and I can’t apologize for him. He’s still figuring this stuff out, I promise he isn’t always this much of an asshole.”

You nod, letting his words sink in. You never thought how much stress this could be on him. He went from a normal life to being thrown into this hero thing with the title and responsibility Steve took years to build up. It was a lot for him and he didn’t need you reminding him of what he wasn’t.

Hoskins notices your demeanor change and releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He takes his hand off of you and takes a glance toward the hallway where his best friend left then to his left where all the Flag Smashers computers laid out unattended. “I heard you’re pretty good with intel.”

You let out an ironic chuckle, of course, he chose his moment to bring that up. “You had to ruin it.” An apologetic look comes across his face and you wave it off, knowing that it’s time to get back to the task at hand. “Go after your boyfriend, I’ll see what I can do.”

He rolls his eyes at your comment before jogging off to follow Walker. A small smile sneaks its way onto your lips as you watch him leave. It was nice to get an insight on Walker and have a little banter with Hoskins. It made you relax, feeling that you were no longer a hostage in a pretend game of hero.

The police officers around you start collecting what minimal things were in the Flag Smasher’s base. They grab the files in the cabinets, the food they have in the other room, and they even grab the goddamn chairs. They weren’t leaving any stone unturned when it came to this and you understood why... this was Walker’s first mission leading as Captain America and he wasn’t going to mess it up. Your heart goes out to him but that didn’t mean you liked him.

You hold up a hand to the man in uniform as he goes to take the laptop, signaing that you wanted to use it. He nods in understanding and moves to collect other objects. Plopping down on the metal chair, you turn and start typing away.

=====

The room was luxurious like the rest of the mansion. The walls were high, windows extending from the floor to ceiling, giving a breathtaking view of the landscape behind the home. It was a bedroom, a large California king against the wall opposite of the windows. A large desk with a dramatic-looking chair sat near the bathroom causes an evil smile to appear.

“Here it is.” The American turns around while holding his arms out.

“Wunderschön.” You respond, forcing an astonished look on your face. The dark-haired man furrows his eyebrows in response. “Uh… very pretty.” You pretend to struggle with your English to keep up the persona your file had described. He gleams at the compliment and moves to close the distance between the two of you.

He slips his hand around your waist, pressing his body against your scantily clad one. You wanted nothing more than to push him off and slit his throat but your bosses would be punish you for not following the mission orders. Especially when he starts trailing kisses down your neck.

You throw your head back and allow him access though. The kisses and nips were numb on your skin as you lazily trail your eyes around the room. The black dress left no room to hide anything so that meant anything pointy had to be disgusted in your purse… which was left on the dresser next to the closed door. You inwardly cringe at your mistake, saving it in the back of your head for future undercover missions.

There was no chance to lead him back to the entrance so you had to think fast. Gently pushing the man away, he doesn’t take the hint to get off of you and attaches his lips to yours. Your eyes widen in surprise but you quickly recover.

He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes and it made your stomach turn. Finally, he pulls away and you take the opportunity to look up at him through your lashes. That was enough for him to start fiddling with the zipper on your back. You let out an airy giggle at the way he struggles with it.

“Here.” You turn around and pull your long hair over your shoulder to give him better access. He hums out and starts to pull the metal tag down. Mind trailing off again, your eyes land on the laptop on his desk. The object of the whole reason why you were here.

The mission assigned was simple since it was your first undercover mission for Hydra. They thought you would be a good candidate considering you were young and “perky” in their words. Having no other choice than to compromise, they dressed you up and gave an identity to play as to get close enough to take the information off the computer.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see a glimmer of light bounce off something in the corner of the room. The man paid no mind to it as it was a coincidence to your dress hitting the floor and the cold A/C of the room hitting your skin. You squint your eyes and try to make out the figure but it’s interrupted by the man spinning you around and throwing you onto the bed.

You stare wide eyed up at the man while he stands above you. A feeling of fear courses through your body at the thought of what’s about to come. The original plan was to sneak off with the target and tranq him but you fucked it up. The boss was going to have your ass if you didn’t figure out a way to get to that laptop.

You didn’t want to do anything further with this sleazeball but you also didn’t want to starve for the next few days. Closing your eyes, you wait for it all the happen. You’ve endured worse at the hands of Hydra so this would sadly come easy for you to block out.

A loud gunshot rings through the room and you feel something warm splatter across your body. Your eyes snap open in a panic to figure out what just happened. The man who was once hovering over you is now lying on the floor with a bullet in his head, blood pooling underneath him. Slowly, your gaze trails up to your own body causing your breath the hitch in your throat once again. Dots of blood litter your skin and undergarments which only meant--

“Are you okay?” A raspy voice calls out, one that you’ve never heard before. A piece of cloth comes into view, the metal hand attached to it surprises you. The Soldier has never shown this type of kindness to you, well anyone, before and it made you nervous. You hesitantly grab the wet cloth from him and start wiping the blood off of your body.

His stare was directed on the floor to give you some type of privacy. It was weird that the Soldier was showing you such care that you didn’t even think could be possible. You knew of his story, a brainwashed POW victim that was programmed to kill. But here he was, waiting patiently for you with your dress in his hand.

Once cleaned up, you stand up and bump into him. His head turns to you causing you to melt instead of flinching away like you usually would. His piercing blue eyes send a shiver down your spine. There was emotion in them. Concern.

Carefully, you reach out and place a hand on the metal appendage. The Soldier’s body immediately relaxes under the foreign soft touch. “Thank you, Soldat.” You whisper out, fearing that any hostility would send him back to his murderous state. Something flashes behind his eyes as he nods in response.

You wake up with a gasp, blankets are long forgotten on the floor. Your chest was heaving up and down as you try to compose yourself from the memory that forced itself into your dream. It’s been a while since you had a nightmare and you were confused. Maybe going back into the field wasn’t good for you. It was bringing back the part of you that you worked so hard to get past.

The abrupt sound of a phone ringing makes you flinch. You reach around blindly until your hand feels the cool touch of your phone laying on the bed next to you. Not even looking at the screen, you slide the green bubble and bring it up to your cheek.

“Hello?” You answer, cringing at how weak you sound.

“(Y/N).”

You close your eyes and release a deep breath, your body physically relaxing at the familiar voice. “Yea, what’s up, Buck?”

“We haven’t heard from you all day, we were wondering how this morning went. Did you find anything?” His tone was soft and steady in contrast to the bustling of the environment behind him.

You shake your head and bring your hand up to run it through your messy hair, “No, not of importance. I went through their laptop but most of the significant information was remotely deleted or something… Found the files but not the documents.” You shrug and fall back onto the pillows behind you. His hum is followed by comfortable silence… until you hear someone whine in the background.

“Are you gonna talk to her or are you gonna sit there like lovesick teen-- Hey, not with the metal arm!” Sam is cut off with what you assume is Bucky slapping him. You giggle at the sound of metal hitting concrete. “Jesus, man, you’re crazy.”

“I won’t miss next time.” Bucky threatens with his teeth clenched, you can imagine him pointing his finger at him with a scowl on his face. The silence resumes while you stare at the lamp on the bedside table. “Are you okay? You’re oddly quiet.”

You hesitate for a moment, your dream flashing in your head. “Yea.” You softly confess, “Just had a weird dream.”

He waits for you to elaborate, knowing you would do the same for him.

“Hydra.”

“Oh,” He lets out a breath and takes a few moments before continuing, “I’ve been having some of those too.” He admits, “More than usual, I guess. Being back out here is triggering some memories and not the normal ones.”

A sense of relief washes over you at his confession. Knowing he was going through the same thing sends a pang to your heart but it was a good thing to know you weren’t alone.

“Well, I have to head out. We have a possible led and we need to check it out before it’s too late.” Bucky announces, you frown. It was nice to be able to talk over the phone with him even though you saw him recently and you didn’t want it to end. “Text me if you need anything, doll, I’m only a message away.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his nickname for you. “Same for you, Buck… Be careful.”

“When am I not careful?” He chuckles out, you can hear Sam snort and mumble something in the background. “I didn’t ask you, Wilson.”

“Just, please, be safe.” You beg, you knew the two didn’t have any restraints and would do whatever it took to get the information they needed. Sam has broken the law for him once and you’re sure he would do it again for a good cause. “I…” You hesitate for a second, the words you wanted to say didn’t come out. “I don’t know what I would do if something bad happened to you…”

“Don’t worry about me, doll.” He tries to calm your nerves but there’s a twinge of nervousness in his tone that makes you uneasy. “I promise.”

_____

taglist: @crowleysqueenofhell @mischiefmanaged71 @thewinterrbucky @lizajane3 @ahahafudge @spookycereal-s @a-girl-who-loves-disney @kittengirl998 @ sebby-staan @felicityofbakerstreet @sltwins @tanyaherondale

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #james barnes #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x female reader #mcu #bucky x y/n #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter solider x reader #twatws

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 8 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: Things might be starting to come together this week! Let me know your predictions.

This chapter talks extremely briefly and ambiguously of Emma not exactly wanting to have sex with Neal. Also, there is a discussion of Killian’s semi-violent past. Nothing is detailed, but let me know if you need more information or anything!!

Rated M

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~~~~

The days turn into weeks, although Emma can’t help but feel as though time is dragging her along mercilessly. Nothing has changed since she found out about Neal, how he’s the brother of the leader of The Lost Boys. Nothing, aside from her feelings of safety and security, of confidence in her relationship, being completely shattered.

Every night, she fights off the desperation to walk across the hall and join Killian in his bed, letting his strong arms consume her and blanket her with a sense of ease and contentment. Every night, she fights with herself as she crawls into bed with Neal, a man she thought she loved, and forces herself to put on an act of affection towards him. She forces herself to lie back and accept his convoluted attempts at showing her that he loves her, knowing that he couldn’t possibly. If he loved her, he would never have lied to her. If he loves her, he would let her go.

She also fights with herself through the anger she feels, directed inward rather than at anyone else. Sure, she’s mad at Neal for what he’s done, what he’s putting her through, but at the end of the day, she’s the fool to let herself be put in this position. It’s her fault. She should have seen through his lies from the moment she met him, but she was too desperate for love and family and acceptance. He knew that, too, and he exploited her weaknesses like she meant nothing to him.

It drives her mad to not know what he’s after. She’s hardly the most skilled person at finding people who don’t want to be found, so why he feels the need to target her specifically, she can’t say. It could be argued that, in some perplexing, psychotic way, he thinks he loves her, but she knows now that this isn’t love. It can’t be.

Lying at his side, wide awake through her inability to sleep, she can’t seem to shut her mind off. Each time she closes her eyes, she feels terror at the memories burned behind her lids. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees Neal on top of her, despite her resolve to squeeze her eyes shut each time he decides he wants to be with her. Usually, she’s able to go to another place, letting thoughts of the beach or her happy future serve as a distraction of her fear, but sometimes she can’t ignore the feeling of his rough fingertips burning her skin.

Sometimes, when she’s in Neal’s arms and struggling to get past the feelings that come along with being with him, she thinks of Killian. Not necessarily in a way of longing for him-- not because she wishes she was with him instead, although she can only assume it would be more pleasurable-- but because of the comfort that he always brings her. Being with him is like being embraced by warmth and safety itself. It’s like the rest of the world turns off, and all that’s on her mind is the soothing way his arms wrap around her and the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. She doesn’t have to worry when she’s with him. She only has to think about how good it feels to be in his arms.

And she’s noticed his physique, too. It would be difficult not to. She noticed that first night, when he lifted his sweatshirt off and pulled his t-shirt up with it. She noticed the other day when he visited her in her cave of an office, leaning his shoulder against the door frame with his arms crossed, muscles bulging out of his sleeves and a tempting smirk coloring his lips as he teased her over the dinosaur of a computer she was working on. She notices the way he looks with almost everything he does, and she knows it's a dangerous game that she’s playing.

It’s not like she never found Neal attractive. But knowing what she knows now, she can’t help but to feel slightly nauseated every time she sees his face. She’s got to get out of this.

~~~~

“Since you did such a good job with the last one, I have another little task for you,” Peter says, his voice teasing and his smirk unsettling.

Emma works hard to maintain her composure as she sits straight up in her seat, one she was finally awarded after weeks of standing awkwardly before the group sat at the table. Today, when she walked into the daunting conference room, Peter invited her to sit beside him, beside Neal, and has been leaning towards her in a way that she knows is meant to appear polite, but holds a threatening undertone.

“Okay,” she agrees, trying to make her voice sound confident and fighting off the fear that never seems to go away.

He turns from her to Neal and remarks, “she really has begun to come into her own, hasn’t she?”

“I guess,” he shrugs, and a part of her feels offended at his nonchalance. Despite her strong desire to be anywhere but here, she thinks she’s done a pretty nice job of trying to fit in. Ever since Gold spilled the beans a few weeks ago about Neal’s status in the club, she’s held it together fairly well on the outside, with the exception of her initial breakdown.

There’s only one person she truly feels comfortable breaking down in front of. Only one person who she really trusts.

She hasn’t told Neal that she's found out his true identity. She and Killian have talked about it at length, sometimes able to spend time alone together especially when Neal leaves, and they’ve agreed that it’s for the best to keep her discovery under wraps. Gold’s subtle drop that Neal is his son and brother to Peter was purposeful, and she can’t let him come out on top. She knows, she’s terrified, but she’ll maintain her composure. For whatever reason, Neal doesn’t want her to know, so she’ll keep playing dumb.

“Who do you want me to find?” she asks, wanting nothing more than to prevent Neal from saying anything else casually offensive. His small digs at her serve a purpose, she now knows; to bring her down as far and as quietly as he can.

“This one may be a bit more of a challenge; a member from a rival gang. While Graham was more of a nomad, this man has ties to the Kings of Elsinore and is better protected. I want you to find out everything you can on him.”

“Okay,” she nods assuredly. “Well, I'll take whatever you have on him and get to work, then.”

Before she can move from her seat, Peter’s hand is on her wrist, oppressively holding her still. “Not so fast. There’s someone I’d like you to officially meet. Call in Hook.”

A man Neal knows, Walsh, she thinks, stands from his chair and walks towards the door, summoning someone inside. She has to stop her jaw from hitting the floor when she sees who.

“You two seem to have met casually, but I’d like you to officially meet Killian Jones. He’s gotten himself into a touch of trouble and, as punishment, will be helping you with whatever you need until this man is located.”

She gulps, anxiety setting in again despite how hard she’s been trying to keep it at bay. She promised herself she would be strong, refusing to let them get to her, to let them see her squirm. She will keep her promise to herself. “Okay,” she murmurs, forcing herself to peel her gaze from Killian’s. She can’t help but wonder what he’s done to get into trouble with Peter. She selfishly hopes they weren’t caught without her knowledge.

~~~~

“What happened?” she begs desperately once the door to her small office is shut, Killian ushering her into the room before practically slamming it. “What are you in trouble for? Killian, please tell me they don’t--”

“Nothing like that,” he hisses, stepping towards her. With a soft, gentle voice only just above a whisper, he says, “love, you have to stay calm. You did phenomenally pretending we don’t know each other well, but we have to keep up the ruse.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I know, I just… what happened?”

“Nothing, love, I promise. I only refused to go on a trip with them last week and Peter feared I wasn’t dedicated to the club’s cause.”

“You did?” she asks in surprise. When Neal told her that he wasn’t dedicated, she forced herself to believe him. When Killian says it, she doesn't even consider doubting him.

“Aye. Told them I had pressing matters to attend to.”

She cocks her head suspiciously and asks, “what were the pressing matters?”

“The Mummy Returns was on TV, remember? We watched it together.”

She can’t help the smile that breaks across her face, a snort escaping her throat despite her best efforts as she shakes her head and feels a blush creeping up her neck and pinkening her cheeks. “You’re dumb,” she says, and she feels like a child in a playground with a school crush.

“Well,” he shrugs, giving her a beaming smile. “Here, love. I’ve got the information we have so far. Time to start digging.”

A part of her almost wants to take her time, content to sit in the small office with Killian sitting beside her for quite some time. No one would suspect a thing, what with Peter already telling her that this guy would be harder to find; it’s the perfect excuse to soak in all of the comfort and happiness that Killian brings her despite her circumstances. But she knows they have to keep up appearances so as to avoid being caught in their elicit friendship, so she’ll work at a normal pace and hope no one notices that her smile is genuine rather than the forced one she gives Neal.

James Spencer is certainly a hard man to find. If she didn’t already know that he was linked to the Kings of Elsinore, she would be lost, as the man seems entirely enigmatic in nature. He seems like a ghost, her research pointing her absolutely nowhere, but Peter insists that he’s got ties to this rival club, despite her finding no evidence to support his claim.

She groans after a few hours, dropping her head to the desk as Killian continues to bounce a tennis ball off the wall in his boredom. It certainly is a punishment for him; the fact that he has to sit here and watch her find nothing is likely eating him alive. “It’s only been a few hours, love, you’ll find something soon,” he tries to console. Her frustration wins out, though.

“This is stupid.”

“Aye.”

“Are all of these stupid gangs this hard to navigate around?”

“Aye, I'd assume so. Although, I've never been a bounty hunter.”

She rolls her eyes, picking her head up and glaring. “I wasn’t a bounty hunter. I was a bail bondsperson.”

“That’s different?”

She holds her hands out, requesting the ball from him and catching it when he tosses it, only to throw it back at him with too much aggression. He yelps and laughs at her too loudly, and she can’t help but smile in response. She settles back into her chair after the short reprieve and sighs.

“How can I find someone who doesn’t want to be found if I know absolutely nothing about the environment he lives in?”

He hums in agreement, nodding and remarking, “you need an inside man.”

“No, I just need to know how a fucking motorcycle gang works,” she grumbles. It’s been a confusing few weeks, and she realizes that, while she’s gotten a few small bits of information, she still has no idea what the club’s actual purpose is. “Like… why even bother having one?”

He gives her a soft smile, standing from his chair and dragging it closer to her. “Are you sure that’s what this is about?”

“What?” she asks indignantly, giving him a look that she seriously hopes conveys how annoyed she is.

“Your little tantrum, love,” he teases. “Is it really about not knowing enough about how gangs work? Or is it, perhaps, more about your need to know everything about a situation in order to convince yourself that you’re safe?”

With another glare shot his way, she drops her jaw in surprise and shakes her head. “What the hell do you know?”

He smirks. “I know a lot more than you think. You’re a bit of an open book, love. And I’ve known you long enough now.”

“To what, psychoanalyze me?”

“I may have considered studying psychology, had I gone to university,” he laughs. “I know you’re scared, and I'm beginning to realize that not knowing what’s going to happen, or what’s happening without you knowing, is probably feeding that fear.”

With another heaving sigh, she drops her head back down, resting it on her arms and nodding. “You’re right,” she concedes, although part of her wishes he wasn’t. It’s true, though, being so in the dark about everything is making her feel weak.

His hand lands on her shoulder, staying there for a moment before he gently and slowly scratches his fingertips against her skin and pulls away. “I can tell you what I know, if that’ll help.”

She perks up, lifting her head and recalling a conversation from weeks ago in which he told her that his brother was an influential member of the club. “Yes,” she says, and why she didn’t think to ask earlier, she doesn’t know.

He gives her a nod and another one of his encouraging smiles, the one that always makes her heart skip a beat, and clears his throat. “What I know is that Neal is older, but Peter is in charge. From what I gather, and I was never privy to much, Neal went off on his own for a while and Peter took over everything. Gold’s always seemed a bit more… hesitant around Peter, but I almost suspect that he favors Neal. Either way, Peter was running things behind the scenes for quite some time before Neal left. When he came back, it was with you on his arm and with Peter happily leading, refusing to give up his spot. No one argued with him.”

She nods, but it doesn’t tell her much. She’s always known that Neal is more of a follower, happy to do whatever he can to impress his friends. The fact that he willingly gave up what seems to be his birthright doesn’t really surprise her.

“So what are they doing when they go away on their trips?”

“Usually seeking out merchandise. They deal in stolen goods, mostly watches and the like. Typically, a trip is a heist of some kind. A jewelry store, antique shop… sometimes even banks with safe deposit boxes.”

Emma looks down to her own wrist, Killian’s gaze following closely behind, and notes the watch she wears. The one that Neal gave her after one of his trips. She shudders and moves to take it off.

His hand stops her, looking into her eyes deeply and shaking his head. “Keep it,” he murmurs. “We can’t let them know that you know any of this.”

“Why?” she asks in a whisper. “Why is it so bad if I know?”

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head again. “But if Neal hasn’t told you, there’s a reason for it.”

She nods in understanding, letting her heart rate slow as his hand remains on her wrist, moving down to the top of her hand. She wants to wrap her fingers around his, but she knows she shouldn’t. “Can I ask something about you?”

“Of course.”

“Why do they call you Hook?”

His eyes drop from hers, glancing down at their joined hands, and she watches his brows knit together tightly. She feels his grip on her hand tighten, and despite both of them knowing it’s a bad idea, his fingers weave with hers and he squeezes her hand. She squeezes back.

“There are things about my past that… that when I think about telling you, I become…” he sighs, unable to finish his thought.

“Killian,” she whispers, “I already know you’re in a gang. Can it really be that bad?”

“Aye,” he answers immediately, his eyes meeting her own in a desperate attempt to convey to her something she can’t quite read. “I’m not… a good man.”

“Of course you are.”

“No. Maybe I’ve never thrown knives at a woman I’m supposed to love, but I’ve certainly… I mean…”

“Killian.” Her grip on his hand, the one she should release, tightens. “Whatever happened… you’re not that person. You’re good. I know bad people and I pegged you as good the second I saw you.”

It’s as if he can’t meet her gaze, too ashamed of whatever it is that he’s done. Too fearful of what will happen if she finds out. He witnessed her finding out that Neal has been lying to her, and she wonders if he fears a similar response now.

“I don’t-- it’s silly,” he laughs. “I just… I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You can’t,” she whispers. After everything he’s done for her, everything he plans to do for her, he could never disappoint her.

He sighs, squeezing her hand once more before turning it over in his and drawing a line across her palm. “I was a-- an angry lad growing up. My father abandoned us, my mother died. I found myself seeking release. Ways to get my anger out. I was never taught anything productive.”

She stays quiet, letting him open up to her on his own terms and distract himself by tracing the lines in her palms. “I came here at fifteen. Gold recruited me for… well, to put my anger to good use, in his eyes. He used me-- he’s always been good at picking out someone’s weakness and exploiting it. Whenever he needed information out of someone, he would bring me along and I would…” he sighs again, taking a deep and grounding breath. “I had a favorite weapon,” he mumbles.

With a nod, she tries to stay calm, tries not to let fear overtake her. She was fearful of Neal when he held the knives and smirked at her, and of Peter when he pressed the tip of the blade to his finger and smiled. But when she presses her hand to Killian’s cheek and makes him look up at her, she feels no fear. She sees only truth and regret and a longing to be a different person.

“It was a hook?” she asks for clarification, but she can see the answer in his eyes.

“From Gold’s boat,” he croaks. “That’s usually where we would take… the people we were interrogating. But, Emma, it’s been years. Liam found out and put an end to it. I think that’s--”

“What?” she asks gently as he cuts himself off, shaking his head painfully.

“I think that’s when things started going poorly for him.”

He’s done so much for her. He’s soothed every ounce of pain she’s felt since she got here, since Neal sliced her cheek and he touched it tenderly. He held her together as she cried harder than she ever had before. He’s vowed to see her out of this danger despite the predicament it puts him in. And still, she feels powerless to help him. He’s sitting before her, broken and in anguish, and she can’t heal him like he has her.

All she can do is take his cheeks in her hands and promise him, “that was not your fault.”

“Emma,” he breathes, his eyes pleading with her, for what, she isn’t sure. “He… he kept insisting I stay out of it. He kept holding me back, refusing to let me go, putting up a fight… I think they got tired of it, eventually. Of someone constantly questioning them and going against their word. He’d still be here if I hadn’t--”

“No. You had no hand in what happened to Liam. And when this is all over, you’re gonna be able to leave too.”

It’s bold of her to assume that it’s something he wants. He’s told her plenty of times that he wants to help her escape, but he’s never mentioned a desire to leave himself. It’s bold of her to assume that that’s in his best interest. But when she looks at the sadness and regret in his eyes, a part of her knows that it must be.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a moment of silence, and she lets him cast his gaze downwards again. “I should have--”

“It’s okay, Killian. The things you’ve done in the past don’t reflect who you are now.”

“Of course they do,” he nearly spits, clearly angry with himself as he pulls away and throws his head back. “I was a monster then. How can you not think of me as a monster now? I’m no better than Neal or Peter.”

“Don’t say that. Peter would probably do something like that now if he wanted to. Would you?” She lets her voice rise just the slightest amount, feeling more intensity than before and finding it necessary to convey to him that she doesn’t see him as a monster.

“Of course not.”

“And Neal… don’t even get me started. He nearly pulled his gun on me last week because I asked him where he was going. Would you do that?”

“Emma,” he says softly, finally looking at her once more, and she knows what he’s thinking. She knows he wants her out of his apartment; out of his life.

“You’re not a bad person,” she whispers, leaning closer to him just as he sits forward again, and they’re so close that she can feel his breath warming her nose. “I know bad people. You don’t qualify.”

He nods, his eyes deep and soulful as they bore into hers, and says, “I want to be a good person for you.”

No one has ever spoken to her like this. No one has ever expressed such a definitive desire to be worthy of her. No one has ever been so close to her and not made her instinctively want to pull away. And when she sees his eyes fluttering shut, his lashes touching his cheeks and casting long shadows in the dingy light, she wants to lean closer.

She almost does, too, is tempted to close her eyes like he has and touch her lips to his, but there's a swift knock on the door and they spring apart so quickly that she kicks his shin, causing him to bend and silently groan. She cringes in apology as she jiggles the mouse to her computer, begging it to wake up before the knocker enters the room.

“Any luck?” Gold asks as he pokes his head in.

“None so far,” Killian answers easily, his persona shifting effortlessly and maintaining their cover. “Swan’s searching high and low, but we don’t know much about Spencer’s tactics yet.”

“And Hook’s been a help to you, Miss Swan?”

“Yes,” she smiles, fighting the urge to lunge out of her chair and wring his neck for the name he’s given Killian and his insistence to still use it despite his obvious discomfort.

“It’s clear already that you have the club’s future in mind; I'm sure you’ll find something soon enough.”

She nods, staring as he walks away and cocking her head in confusion. “So weird,” she says softly once he’s gone, trying to remain quiet as he’d left the door ajar.

“What?”

“That’s the second time he’s mentioned the club’s future, specifically. What does me finding this James Spencer have to do with the future of the club?”

His response is a shake of his head, a slight roll to his eyes before he stills suddenly. His eyes widen as he looks down, then his brows knit together in thought, and she can clearly see the cogs turning in his mind. It’s like she’s watching him have an epiphany in real time. He looks up at her once, urgently, then he snaps out of it as if he’s remembering where he is, his demeanor shifting entirely as he smiles. “I’m not sure. The old man never makes any sense.”

“Killian…?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, love. We’ll just keep working on finding Spencer, alright? There’s no need to worry.”

For a brief second, she feels distrustful of him. It’s reminiscent of when Neal tells her not to worry about things that she couldn’t possibly understand. It’s like he knows something, but he doesn’t think she's capable of handling the truth of whatever it is. For a brief, fleeting second, she doubts him.

But she can’t let herself think like that. Neal lies to her to protect himself. Killian has been nothing but honest with her, wanting nothing but her safety. Truthfully, if whatever he’s discovered is bad enough that he doesn’t want to tell her about it, she isn’t sure she wants to know.

~~~~

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight�� @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @hookedmom @pirateprincessofpizza

#Watch the Sunlight Fade #Captain swan fanfic #cs ff #sunlight ff #captain swan angst #captain swan fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #tw

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whenwordsmakesense · 3 years

Text

<- The Cursed Boy AU part 2 ->

Tagging @suis0u because this has been inspired by her post. (Go check it out! Also, read the first part of this series of ficlets).

It took them almost the entire day to empty only the unused guestrooms.

"I am never agreeing again to anything you say," Laura complained as she fell back on the victorian-era couch, groaning like a dying whale and being generally annoying. Derek pushed her away. "I'm tired!"

"So am I," he settled in the empty space that he'd created, and pushed Laura further away until he was satisfied with the amount of space he claimed on the admittedly gorgeous couch. Laura was a lump at his side, but at least she was tired enough to not retaliate back.

Uncle Peter smirked at them from his own claimed spot on the opposite couch. "It was your idea to come here," he told them, and Laura lazily raised her fingers towards Derek. Derek pushed her grimy hands away from his face. Uncle Peter rolled his eyes. "Derek's idea," he amended, and continued, "Think of this as exercise. You need to work those muscles somehow, and I doubt you can do that while staying at home and doing whatever it is you do at home."

"I blog," Derek grumbled. Laura snorted beside him.

"Right, if that's what you want to call it."

"I know about your destiel—"

Laura leaped at him, and Derek and her tumbled off of the couch and onto the cold marble floors of the living room.

"Shut up shut up shut up!" Laura hissed at his face, and Derek tried his level best to force her away from him. He didn't succeed, unfortunately.

"Children. I promised Talia I would send you back home in one piece," Uncle Peter sounded amused, and Derek knew he would be of no help.

"She started it!"

"Oh, like you actually blog about stuff! All you do is create art—"

Uncle Peter perked up at that, as he most often did around Derek when he learnt of something interesting. Even his mother did that. It was weird at first, but after he knew why, it was sad.

"That is blogging! I blog about art," Derek insisted, and shoved Laura away. She didn't move that far, and was back on him in an instant.

"You blog about fanfiction," Laura bit out, and Derek clawed her hip, the only place he could reach. She yelped.

"It's not my fault your writing is so bad that nobody follows you or interacts with you,"

"Take that back! Derek, take. That. Back."

It felt like Derek's sixteenth birthday all over again. Laura had been jealous of him because their parents gave him a Camaro while she'd only gotten a shitty Toyota, but to be fair Derek hadn't flunked his grades and sneaked out thrice while being grounded.

Mercifully, uncle Peter intervened.

"All right. Enough." He pulled them apart with ease, armed with the experience of several years on how to conduct with the two of them. "Laura. You take your mother's old room in the East Corridor, and you take the room in the West."

Laura smirked at him. Derek glared at his uncle.

"Those are the guest rooms! We just emptied them out,"

"Not all of them. Now, go."

He grumbled at being relegated to the 'bad' rooms, but really, he was just curious as to why one of the guest rooms was purposefully left for him. Something in Derek roared in anticipation, like this was the first step towards something big and important, the same way he felt the pull towards that locked door.

He hadn't been able to think about anything else for most of the day, mind drifting back towards the door again and again; he couldn't help it. There was just... something, that pulled at him, made him want to run and howl, a pull so strong that for one brief moment he had actually mused that the moon itself was lost in there, alone in a place that used to be so full of life, once. But Laura hadn't seemed bothered, and as much as Derek hates to even think that Laura can be right, he knows that she's right to call him a drama king.

He found the room easily enough, and he dreamt to be like his uncle someday, smart and conniving, and not a simpleton fool that he is. He doesn't know how uncle Peter hid the biggest room out of all the guest rooms—possibly even the actual bedrooms—from two werewolves, but he did, and now Derek's jaw is on the floor because this bedroom is gorgeous.

This room hasn't been painted a soft cream color like the others, it still has the stone walls, but unlike the rest of the non-renovated house these walls are plain, like they've been maintained delicately over the years that no one has lived here in, and Derek loves it in a way he can't explain. He's always loved beautiful things, but more than that he's loved the potential of beauty; here, right here in this room, he can feel that potential in waves.

The bed is big enough for two people, and Derek imagines sleeping here with the love of his life wrapped in his arms, imagines the moonlight falling through the window right above the window to fall on them, the way it would capture them, and enrapture Derek; he imagines late night discussions of things as mundane as how each other's day went, and as intimate as what they hope from the future. Derek imagines a lifetime of beauty and love and gentleness in this room, something so out of the left field that he isn't sure why he is out of breath: is it because of the voice in his mind that says he won't find someone so special, or because he is too deep in his fantasy that he is seeing a vivid image of a man waiting on the bed for him, a sudden thing that roots itself in his heart?

Derek shook his head, tried to focus again on the beauty of the room. It's simple in design, something pure, but it meant a lot to him, like there's a history here that he can't read but can understand anyways, like seeing art and feeling the emotions behind it even if he didn't know the story behind it.

He is tired, though, exhausted even, and he doesn't believe he can stand any longer. So, he stripped off his clothes, put them on the top of the drawer that stood in a corner—amber eyes, a soft smile, dotted skin that Derek wants to run his lips through—he shook his head, too tired to even dwell on the sudden but familiar image in his head, and promptly slid onto the bed in only his boxers.

He couldn't wait to explore the Castle tomorrow, but for now he slept.

#the cursed boy au #sterek #derek hale #laura hale #peter hale

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

Betrothed | Sangyeon

Requested! Royal au! Sangyeon and Y/N have been betrothed ever since they were kids. Too bad that you hate each other’s guts...Or do you?

Genre: fluff, enemies to lovers au, royal au. Tagging: my lovely precious @aniyawoos because she deserves all the love in the world.

----

"Where is it?”

You wish that your murderous glare can drill holes through Sangyeon’s back as you stand, fists clenched at your side, as you watch the prince smoothing over his horse’s mane as if he has no worries in the world.

You try breathing out through your nostrils. Inhale. Exhale. Relax.

“Where is it, Sangyeon?”

“I didn’t touch your diary.”

“You’re the only one who knows I always keep in on my desk. And the only person who has access to our quarters is you,” you cross your arms over your chest, “where is it?”

At that, he whips his head around to throw you a scowl, “I told you, I didn’t touch it. I don’t even know what it looks like.”

“That’s a load of bullcrap. You’ve seen it before.”

"If you haven’t noticed, I don’t really give a rat’s ass about your stuff, nor do I have any interest in reading your personal matters. So no, it’s not me,” he returns back to his horse and you’re tempted to throw a bucket at him when he’s not looking.

What an ass, you think to yourself as you storm away, anger bubbling up inside your stomach.

Ever since you could remember, your parents had been constantly throwing you into Sangyeon’s arms as a reminder that you were to be his wife someday when you guys were of age to rule over the Kingdom of Gustale. It was your duty as a princess from the neighbouring Kingdom and you wouldn’t have minded it as much, if not for Sangyeon’s constant bitch-ass attitude towards you these past few years.

Growing up had been fun, to say the least. Before everything had turned like sour grapes, you and Sangyeon would spend endless days together, sharing stories from your own and going out on small adventures in the city. That was before responsibility had fallen onto both your shoulders, before summer was replaced by additional royalty lessons about managing the people and the economy of the Kingdom itself.

You weren’t exactly sure when things started going downhill in your relationship. But it had been sudden; the way Sangyeon had withdrawn from you as distant as the wind, the way his features -- which you were used to seeing so soft and open -- had hardened considerably whenever he was meant to interact with you. You had never had the nerve to ask him about it, but it was clearly not your fault.

How could it be? It was almost like you had snapped your fingers, and the Sangyeon you knew was gone.

And time is fast in slipping through your fingers, for it’s only a few days until your actual betrothal.

Another sigh escapes your lips as you think of the bleak future ahead. Before, marrying Sangyeon wouldn’t have bothered you that much. Now though, it seemed like you were readying yourself to walk through the gates of hell.

The preparations for the Royal Engagement ceremony take up most of your time, which successfully steer your thoughts away from the big elephant in the room you have yet to address. You busy yourself organizing the tables, going through the list of decorations, and spending as much free time walking along the docks to greet the merchants going back and forth to the sea like it’s their second home.

It’s only when night falls that it becomes a challenge. As a way to encourage your intimacy, the Royal family had decided it suitable for you to spend your nights in Sangyeon’s royal quarters. That wouldn’t normally bother you as much. But with Sangyeon’s coldness, you find yourself most of the time slipping away in the middle of the night to curl up in one of the library’s couches.

So it comes as a surprise when you hear Sangyeon’s alto float through the air. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hairbrush in hand, you pause in mid-action. Have you just heard wrong or--?

“Y/N.”

You blink. Hesitate a few seconds. “What?”

Another pause.

“Have you--” his voice is gruff, coming from the room itself. You wish you can see him, “have you found it?”

“My diary?”

“Yeah.”

You resume brushing your hair, “no.”

Another awkward silence takes hold of the room and you’re not sure whether you should be filling it with short talk.

Your heart jolts in your throat when you hear him once more, “I didn’t steal it, Y/N. If that’s what you think.”

Biting your lip, you nod, before realizing he can’t see you, “I know.”

“Good.”

That’s possibly the nicest he’s ever been since...well, ever since.

You try not to ponder too much over the meaning behind Sangyeon’s gentle demeanour, knowing full well that it only leads to disappointment in the long run. Quickly untangling the knots from your hair before moving towards your bedroom, you’re surprised to find that he’s still sitting up, blinking up at you as though waiting that you’ll join him for the night.

“What?” You can’t help but ask the moment your eyes meet for a second too long.

His eyes slide away in growing embarrassment, “I--Uhm, are you--are you going to bed for the night?”

“Yes?” Confusion falls over your face.

He turns his head away so that you’re graced with his profile, and you can’t help but admire the strong jawline he sports, his plump lips that every girl would die for, “I was just asking, because I know you tend to sleep in the library.”

“Oh,” realization dawns on you, and while the first thing that scratches the back of your tongue is an apology, your mind reels back when you realize that you don’t really owe him anything.

“Well, uhm--” you rack your brains for an answer, “I thought you weren’t comfortable with me sleeping in the same bed as yours.”

His mutter is so soft you would’ve missed if it you hadn’t been paying attention, “I really don’t mind.”

That’s how you find yourself, curled up on your side and away from the said prince of Gustale, hands tucked under your head and trying to take up as little space as you possibly can. You can feel the heat of his body radiating from his side of your bed, practically bathing your entire backside, and though Sangyeon’s bed is big enough to accomodate the two of you, it’s quite modest in comparison to what the King and Queen have in their sleeping quarters. One wrong move in his direction will ultimately cause your limbs to brush, no question.

The first night is definitely awkward. You try not to bring it up, and Sangyeon does an amazing job at hiding what’s really going on in his mind. But as more time passes, you start picking up on things that he’s starting to do differently. For starters, he now engages in quiet conversation with you at meal times, asking whether you’re finding your way around the palace, or grudgingly passing you plates of food without so much as a protest. He’d asked the maids to keep tabs on what made you uncomfortable so that he could change what didn’t sit well with you, unknown to your knowledge, and you’d only found out later when one of the guards had accidentally let it slip that the prince seemed to be ‘putting it a lot more effort nowadays’.

Not that it had helped, since you’re still left empty-handed, with all your thoughts and private feelings probably tucked away in someone else’s desk drawer.

Sangyeon’s sudden bout of generosity and consideration makes your heart warm. You slowly start softening towards the said man, until you hear a pair of court ladies mumbling amongst themselves on the eve of the Royal Engagement.

“The Prince and the Princess have been getting quite cozy lately.”

“No wonder,” the other woman scoffs, causing Y/N to back up against the nearby wall, ears focused on their conversation, “after all, he knows what he’s got to do after their marriage. Maybe he wants to get an early start.”

“You think so? The prince doesn’t strike me as the type to sway women only for his physical needs.”

“Well, she will definitely be the bearer of his children. So he surely must get into her good books.”

At this point, you’re already walking towards his quarters with your heart palpitating in your chest and your legs going numb from the women’s earlier discussion. Is it true? You ask yourself as you absentmindedly open his room door. You close it softly behind you, pressing your back against it while the words slowly digest themselves in your head.

If what the court ladies are saying, then it makes sense why Sangyeon is acting all nice all of a sudden without reason. He merely wants to get the job done as quickly as possible, so that he can be done with you and just throw you into a corner like a used item of clothing he’d outgrew.

That doesn’t seem to sit well in your stomach. You manage to get yourself to the toilet just in time to throw up your entire dinner.

That is where Sangyeon finds you, a few minutes later, heaving and gasping into the toilet bowl while your hands are gripping the edges for dear life. Your face is dotted with perspiration, your face probably flushed from the effort. You know, without looking at your reflection, that you’ve had better days.

“Did you eat something wrong?” he crouches down beside you, a tentative hand fluttering against your backside. It makes you shiver, the warmth of his palm, still not used to his body being so close.

You manage to shake your head, “no,” you mutter, spitting some remaining saliva before you try moving towards the sink. Sangyeon’s arms are around your shoulders in an instant, helping you up to allow you to wash your hands.

You force your gaze down towards your hand, trying to busy yourself with the task at hand so that you won’t have to see the concerned expression he’s plastered over his face just to convince you that his affection is genuine.

“What happened?” he follows you into the bedroom, though it’s clear at this point that you want to burrow underneath the covers and hide forever. You do just that, kicking off your shoes and ignoring the prince’s questions that would’ve once made your heart flutter with affection. Now though, you’re not really sure what you should be feeling towards Sangyeon.

Feeling the bed dip as he sits at your bedside, you can’t help but flinch when his hand pushes a stray strands of hair away from your face, “talk to me, Y/N. Was it something at dinner? Do you feel unwell? Have you caught the stomach flu? It seems to be going around a lot these days. Maybe it’s something you caught when you were out by the docks--”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off and close your eyes, “leave me alone.”

There’s a pause and you force your muscles to relax despite feeling the heat of his gaze zeroing on your face.

“Y/N?” he starts, his alto unsure and confused, “did something happen? Was it something I said?”

“No,” you mutter.

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing. I said leave me alone.”

“Y/N come on, don’t start playing those games with me,” his hand reaches for your shoulder, only for you to jerk away from his hold. Hurt flashes across Sangyeon’s face, though he is adept at masking it into indifference, hand hanging in mid-air.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he finally says in the silence that prevails, “we can’t be arguing on the eve of your engagement, for christ’s sake.”

“Is it true?” you blurt out before your mind can stop your heart from rearing in pain, “is it true that you’re only being nice to me because you want to bed me?”

Silence. A pause. Then, “who told you this?”

You shrug but decide not to answer.

Only to be pulled back to face Sangyeon a second later, his arm latched onto your shoulder so that you meet his darkened gaze, coated with restrained anger. His jaw clenches as he repeats, “who told you, Y/N?”

“Is it true?” your eyes lock on his, “is it true then? Do you just want to get into my pants?”

“No, it’s not true. But that’s not going to help my case is it?” he sighs, “listen Y/N. People talk a lot, and there’s bound to always be rumours flying around--”

“So then why?” you cut him off with a scowl, “why are you acting so nice to me when you haven’t been for the past five years?”

You try to search for any indication on his face, but Sangyeon being Sangyeon, he knows exactly how to close himself off, hide behind a mask of nonchalance so that it’s almost impossible to guess what might be making the cogs in his head turn.

“Can I tell you something without you shouting at me?” his murmur is so soft, so unlike his usual cold demeanour, that you nod in agreement, willing to at least hear him out.

“I read your diary.”

Your jaw drops, “You what?! You liar!” You shoot up, slapping him on the shoulder out of pure instinct, “you said you didn’t know where it was!”

“It’s under the bed, I technically found it there so-- ouch woman!” he rubs his now injured shoulder, “can I continue? You promised you wouldn’t get aggressive.”

You keep glaring at him as he continues.

“The things you wrote--I didn’t know that you were hurting so much. I thought that keeping my distance was what you wanted,” he bites the inside of his cheek, “I didn’t want you thinking I was being nice just because we’re meant to be married, especially since I liked you so much. So I tried avoiding you, tried to distance myself so that you’d come to me out of your own free will,” he presses his lips together, eyebrows drawn into a frown, “but then...I read your diary and realized that you--that it was hurting you, more than it was doing you good. You know? And that--that hurt me.”

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you just want to have sex?”

His ears flush a joyous red, so vividly oblivious that your inner mind screams out at how cute he is.

“It has nothing to do with that,” he stammers out. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?” Now you know you’re only pulling his leg, but it’s even more precious to see him ducking his head as the flush reaches the tips of his ears, “I--I never--I never said that! I--well, I mean, you--you’re going to be my wife after all so--obviously, you --you know I kinda...” he scratches the back fo his neck, clearly uncomfortable with all the questions you fire at him, “I kinda already...thought about it.”

You can’t help it. You burst out laughing in his face and revel at how red he becomes as he splutters out, “it’s--it’s not funny.”

“Oh god,” you clamp a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stop yourself, though it’s quite a pathetic attempt, since even Sangyeon’s mouth tugs up into a mirroring grin.

“So are we good now?” He murmurs while his hand unconsciously lands upon yours. It’s soft, warm from his heat. It feels good, it feels...safe.

Your heart skips a beat, “yes Sangyeon. We are. We’re good.”

“Good,” he clears his throat thickly, bites down onto his lower lip as if in thought while his thumb traces soft patterns over your knuckles. It almost feels normal to have him so close, it’s like your body knows that he’s the one you’ll be sharing the rest of your life with.

And then, a memory of his little speech comes floating back before your very eyes.

“Wait,” your eyes snap up to his own confused ones, “you said you liked me?”

He opens his mouth, closes it in realization that he indeed had let it slip.

“Yeah,” he finally mumbles while looking away, ‘Yeah. I like you Y/N. I’ve liked you a lot, for a long time.”

Your entire body springs up in warmth, “why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper out hoarsely.

Turning towards you so that there’s only millimetres between you, your eyes fall onto the soft curve of his collarbones underneath his white shirt, quickly snapping away to stop yourself from getting any wild ideas.

“How could I?” he croaks out, “this whole betrothal thing is planned. I wanted to love someone truly, without titles. I loved you, not because I was betrothed to you. You were just--” his gaze flickers to your lips, “you.”

“Well maybe if you had told me sooner, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“Maybe.”

“Sangyeon,” his dark orbs are swirling with warmth, with a tenderness that causes butterflies to shimmer across your chest when your gazes lock, “I really appreciate what you did. These past few days.”

He chuckles softly, “that’s nothing to thank me for, princess.”

Sitting there with Sangyeon at your side, with his hand resting on yours and your bodies so close you can smell his cologne mixed with the natural scent of wood and summer breeze -- a scent that can only be defined as Sangyeon’s -- it almost feels like you’re part of a family. Your heart swells with emotion at the thought; maybe it’s not so bad after all, to be betrothed to someone like Sangyeon.

It takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s calling your name softly. Looking up into his doe brown orbs gleaming with an open kind of understanding, you find that you can’t possibly look away. The intensity of his gaze is enough to send your heart galloping out of your chest, and when you take a shaky inhale to calm yourself, you realize how close your faces actually are, so close you can see the tiniest freckles spattering across his cheek like galaxies of their own.

You wish to say something. Anything that might save you from staring at him like he’s a piece of art you can’t take your eyes off. But the words get stuck in the back of your throat like sandpaper, a gasp being the only thing that draws out of your mouth when you feel his hand gently cup your chin.

Sangyeon’s thumb brushes against your lower lip and instantly, you feel your skin explode in goosebumps. He moves a little closer and the gasp that dies in the back of your throat catches his attention fully.

It seems like ages go by without as much of an exchange. The world slips away, with only you and Sangyeon gazing into each other’s eyes, both trying to play it safe and yet, there’s definitely something in the air, the electricity that tingles along your spine is definitely not fantasy.

Your hands ball into fists upon impulse. You can barely breathe, hearing your heart slamming against your ribcage.

He leans a little closer. His mouth brushes against yours. Barely.

Your breath hitches, body tensing up slightly.

And then he’s kissing your next breath away, arms lacing around your middle to pull you close while his lips slants over yours in the most sensual caresses that leaves you gasping. You melt right into his arms and he doesn’t hesitate to hold you up, his touch leaving searing paths of hot heat like an imprint that kept you reeling and wanting for more.

It’s only when your back hits the mattress that you realize that you’re lying down with Sangyeon hovering over you, breath staggering and muscles bunching up so that he can kiss you some more, a little deeper each time your mouths collide to ignite sparks behind your lids. Your hands slip around his shoulders to wrap around his torso, traveling up to his hair, his beautiful dark hair that slips through your fingers like silk, and the groan that echoes through his chest causes heat to pool inside your stomach.

With a knee pressing down between your own so that another gasp falls from your lips, the prince’s hands trace a sensual path along your stomach, trailing up to ghost over your chest. You breathe out softly, the smallest of whimpers escaping your mouth. That seems to please him, for his tongue darts out to part your lips with the softest of groans.

It feels so good to have him against you, his heat pooling around yours in a comfortable safe haven that elicits nothing but desire.

When he pulls away for air, you can’t help but whine at the loss of contact while tugging his neck back down in an attempt to steal another kiss from his lips.

Sangyeon lets out a throaty growl, “Y/N, princess, I don’t think that’s such a--” his words die into a moan the moment your mouth starts nibbling along his collarbone. His grip tightens around your waist, and before you know it, you’re backed up against the headboard of the bed right before his lips take yours in once more in a sinful dance of tongues.

“Y/N,” he groans against your mouth, hips unintentionally bucking up against yours when your soft curves roll in delicious desire, taunting him to take it a step further, “baby, stop...”

it is a surprise that he manages to wrench himself away, chest heaving and lips swollen. Your eyes flutter up to his face with a mixture of desire and affection clouding your gaze.

“We can’t,” his soft murmur causes you to shiver. He proceeds to caress your cheekbone, “we’re going to lie down and sleep. And we’re not going to ruin this, not tonight.”

You roll your eyes, though you smile softly “fine.”

He flashes you another tender smile, then moves towards his side of the bed, tugging you along as he goes. With your head resting on his chest and with one arm wrapped securely around your waist, you allow your ear to be comforted by the soft heartbeats echoing through his chest, a soft reminder that this man’s heart beats for yours, and will beat for yours till the end of time.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You smile sleepily, “good night, Sangyeon.”

You’re almost falling into the depths of sleep when you feel his mouth press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

---

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vegalocity · 3 years

Note

Spicynoodleshipping 2 and 3, please? (Maybe at the beginning of The Arrangement?)

prompt meme

2. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss. // 3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

Oh god people are asking for it in specific i need a continuity tag now-

This was a mistake. This was a huge mistake. He had to end it the second it began or else... or else... he didn't know what would happen if he didn't end it as quick as he could, but Red Son knew it would be bad. So he had to drop the whole 'enemies and nemesis' thing and like... actually TALK with the damn Noodle Boy.

But of course when he came to this conclusion he didn't actually know where Noodle Boy even was, whether he was still working in that greasy trash restaurant below or if his shift was over and he was just out on the town doing normal peasant things. The only location he could be sure he'd even show up would be his shitty flat, so that was where he had to wait. The window was almost pathetically easy to jimmy open...again....Noodle Boy needed better home security. And he found himself waiting, thinking maybe a bit too hard about this whole thing and how it could never happen again. But unlike the last time he'd seen the inside of his nemesis' apartment, this time he was... aware. Aware of what exactly? Who could tell, but he was aware of it.

The mountain of Monkey King related merchandise scattered about the area, the pile of sketchbooks he ended up idly paging through which.. weren't too bad. Actually there were some really well rendered action poses in there. The frankly obscene amount of dirty clothes that made him cringe in disgust when he'd first been made aware of them, something not resembling pity when he realized the little pile of pillows was supposed to be something like a couch, the overall sense he got from the little apartment was 'too small for anyone to be comfortable' the second was processing the distinct odor of the room and-

He'd known it was a mistake a second too late, but it was too late to play it off, the Noodle Boy's mortal scent was all around him, stoking a passion in the pit of his gut he hadn't felt in so long he didn't even remember the last time it had happened.

-unfortunately, it was familiar. The memory alone bringing that... that desire back into the fray. He did his best to push it aside and decided to flip through one of the Noodle Boy's Sketchbooks again to distract himself from it. But soon enough the point was made moot as he heard the lock undo itself in the front door. Quickly, Red Son stood and put the sketchbook away, sliding one of his hands into his pocket and made it seem like he'd just gotten there. No need to let the Noodle Boy think he'd been waiting for him, even if he had.

A stupid thrill went through him when the door opened and the Noodle Boy had walked into the apartment without noticing him yet, gaze a thousand miles away and expression pensive with his headphones over his ears.

Red Son stood still and waited for Noodle Boy to notice him, and when he did he of course jumped in place, yelped, and scrambled to get his staff out of hiding. Those hands—that apparently could do so much more than lift the staff and drive that dinky noodle cart—fidgeted nervously across the body of the staff as Red Son walked closer.

“Red Son!? What are you doing in my house?!” He was mostly on edge, but when he spoke next an edge of... anticipation? Came out and made Red Son's brain stutter. “Wait, why haven't you already set anything on fire?”

He strode a few steps forward, hands behind his back, and Red Son didn't speak until he was within arms reach of the Noodle Boy. “I would like to speak with you not as nemesis tonight. In regards to my... unsightly behavior when we saw eachother last. Feel free to kick me out and we'll never speak of what went on again and return to trying to kill eachother as though it never happened.” Wait... that came out wrong, the goal was to never speak of what went on again and go on as if it never happened. Before he could correct himself Noodle Boy nodded and locked the front door behind him.

“Alright... that was a little out of left field when it happened. What have you had a secret crush on me or something?” The Noodle Boy smirked and it did... something to Red Son...

“If memory serves you kissed me back, perhaps I simply did something impulsive and YOU'VE been harboring secret affections.”

Noodle Boy shrugged, and when he walked further into his apartment to sit on the edge of his bed, Red Son found himself following him, until they were side by side.

“So it was just impulse? You were just mad that I was talking while you were crazy ranting-”

“Monologuing”

“-Same thing, and your first impulse was to put your tongue in my mouth to get me to stop?”

“And you're what, hard wired to respond positively to every act of that nature? I pity whomever you decide to start dating if that's the case.”

Red Son might not be the best at reading a room, but even he could tell they were both kind of... dancing around it.

“We should test it out”“This can't keep going.”

They both spoke at once, eithers words becoming blended together, and they shared a confused look as they pieced together what the other said.

“Wait, did you just imply we should...?”

Noodle Boy blushed a bit and he wasn't meeting Red Son's eye anymore. “Well yeah, if it was just an impulse thing then we should make sure of it so neither of us gets fucked up later on in battles, you know? Since it meant nothing to both of us then neither of us have to worry about being unsure during battles because we tried again without all the passion and stuff and there was nothing.”

….Dammit that made sense.

“Fine. I certainly have nothing to worry about, and it would be dishonorable to allow you to worry that you may have fallen in love with me so much that it affects our future battles.” he puffed up his chest haughtily, and tried to sound as confident as he could. Infuriatingly, Noodle Boy just rolled his eyes at him.

“Okay, then Kiss me.”

“What?! It was your idea! You should kiss me!”

“Well you kissed me last time so what's the issue?”

“Exactly! So it's your turn!”

“Oh we're doing turns now?”

“FINE! If you're going to be so stubborn about this, let's simply kiss eachother! At once! Is that agreeable?”

“Sure, Perfect!” Noodle Boy out his hands on Red Son's upper arms to turn his upper body, “Let's just kiss eachother and be done with it so we never have to speak about this again!”

“Wonderful.” Though he had to shift Noodle Boy's arms to slide onto his shoulders so he could grip the peasant by the collar of his jacket. “Exactly what I wanted from this situation!”

“Great!”

“Delightful!”

“Awesome!”

“Phenomenal!”

and suddenly they were nose to nose and Red Son realized once again far too late that this was a mistake. Noodle Boy went quiet so quickly, suddenly nervous, he leaned in and Red Son closed the gap. It was gentle, sweet. Natural....it was only held for a moment but Red Son felt his gut lurch in desire for the entire time. Almost nauseous with the force of it.

When the Noodle Boy began to pull away he found himself overwhelmed and gripped the jacket tighter, bringing him in for another, fiercer kiss. This time it was delicious, like lightning down his spine as their mouths slid against eachother, Noodle Boy shifted slightly and the kiss deepened and Red Son decided he had to have been some sort of fool for almost trying to end this... whatever it was... Before it started. He heard Noodle Boy hum appreciatively before Red Son felt the swipe of a tongue against his mouth, feather light and a moan he didn't even know he had in him escaped as he allowed entrance.

It could have been minutes or eons that this kiss went on, Red Son wouldn't have noticed, but when Noodle Boy finally pulled away and Red Son still didn't feel his brain beginning to re-engage until he spoke.

“Well...That's probably not good.”

“Most likely.”

Send me stuff!

#Spicynoodleshipping #letters to Vega #Vega writes stories too #The Arrangement AU #no beta we die like men #Anonymous

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kuriboo · 3 years

Text

Aerial Twist

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga), Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's, Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V Words: 2,090 Characters: Kaiba Mokuba, Akaba Reira, Izayoi Aki Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Family, this is post arc v and pre 5ds, and takes place in the early duel monsters manga, Arcadia Movement, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Panic Attacks, Trauma, we use dub names here but only most of the time I apologize in advance, Links in Notes

When Kaiba told Mokuba he was meeting with the CEO’s younger brother, Mokuba felt a little insulted. Even if they were the same age, Mokuba was KaibaCorp’s VP, and Riley held no position within the Leo Corporation. This was glorified babysitting while the ‘grown ups’ talked.

He never should have underestimated them.

The vice-presidential position included a lot of duties in its job description, but babysitting was not one of them.

To be honest, Mokuba felt a little insulted. He oversaw a lot of important projects within KaibaCorp, and usually wasn't involved with any big meetings with other corporations. Either that was Seto’s thing, or they both were too important and busy to get involved. So when Seto told Mokuba he was needed for a meeting with the Leo Corporation, he was surprised. When Seto told him he was seeing the CEO's younger brother, he wasn't happy. As the VP of KaibaCorp, Mokuba was aware of the hierarchies of many of the corporations his brother did business with. Even if he and Riley were around the same age, Riley held no position within the Leo Corporation . This was glorified babysitting while the ‘grown ups’ talked.

What did a kid their age who didn't help run one of the biggest companies in the world do? Before Seto acquired KaibaCorp, Mokuba spent most of his time being bullied and being rescued from bullies by Seto. Sure, he liked to duel and play capsule monsters and stuff, but that didn't mean Riley would. He'd never met Riley in/person before, so he didn't know what to expect.

Eventually, Reiji Akaba brought Riley into Mokuba’s office himself. He introduced himself as well as Riley to Mokuba. Then he bent down to Riley's level and calmly told Riley they would be spending time with Mokuba until he returned. Once he was sure Riley was okay with that, he left to attend his meeting with Seto.

The two of them were alone.

"I'm Mokuba." Mokuba had no idea whether to offer Riley a handshake or not. Riley stared at him blankly, not seeming to expect one." To be honest, I don't know what we're supposed to be doing,” Mokuba admitted. Talk business? Play with cars?

Riley shrugged. "Don't know."

Well, great, this was already going well.

Unfortunately Mokuba couldn't give up on this meeting altogether. Seto had warned Mokuba to leave a good impression with Riley; leaving a good impression with Riley meant leaving a good impression with Reiji, and good impressions were everything. Mokuba had to do his best to like, make friends and interact. Ew. He had to think of something.

"Do you like dueling?”

"Uh huh."

"Do you want to duel now?"

This was a more difficult question for Riley to answer. It took them over a minute to think. "Okay."

Well, for being such a hesitant duelist, Riley sure was a good one. Not better than Mokuba, of course. He liked the occasional Ritual Monster (Hungry Burger was a given), but he was mostly a dragon user. It was hard not to be a fan of dragons when your brother was Seto Kaiba. At least Mokiba had some monsters to help set himself apart. But while Mokuba’s deck used a lot of special summoning, Riley's was on a whole other level. Fusion, XYZ, they had it all. Mokuba wouldn't be surprised if they had any Ritual Monsters in there, too.

Mokuba still had the upper hand, obviously, but he never should have underestimated his opponent.

The duel never got to end.

At the sound of glass shattering, Mokuba immediately was alert. The glass came from the big window in his office -- it was supposed to be bulletproof, and he didn't work on the ground floor, but somehow this wasn't the first time this had happened. He'd been kidnapped enough times to know a kidnapping attempt when he saw one. Who was after him? Why now? He was the middle of very important work with a business partner. At least they should wait until Mokuba was alone. That’s Kidnapping 101! He turned to the window, but he couldn't immediately see anyone there.

Mokibar looked towards Riley. They were staring at the broken glass, their hands covering their ears. Tears were forming in their eyes as they dropped to the floor.

This was all going to leave a really bad impression on the Leo Corporation.

At least both of them still had their duel disks. Maybe they could duel their way out of this.

Vines covered in thorns stretched through the hole in the window and into Mokuba’s office. Someone climbed up and jumped into the room. The way their face was covered by a mask prevented Mokuba from knowing if he recognized them or not.

"Who are you?” Mokuba demanded.

"I am the Black Rose Witch.”

A stranger, then. Mokoba forced himself to relax. “If you want to meet with me or my brother, you'll have to make an appointment with our secretaries. Both of us have very busy schedules; as you can see, I'm in the middle of an important meeting.”

“I don't need an appointment with the likes of you," the witch said, as they turned their face in Riley's direction. Tears were falling down Riley's face uncontrollably, but they seemed to be trying to pull their hands away from their ears. “Besides, this meeting does not seem so important."

Mokuba rolled his eyes. So the witch thought they were above everyone else, but that was nothing new to him. He grew up with Seto Kaiba. "So if you don't want an appointment, what are you here for, then?"

“I am here on behalf of the Arcadia Movement.”

"Arcadia?" Mokuba blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that, though the plants made more sense now. "The psychic duelist group?" Cult, more like, but he had no interest in calling out his would-be kidnapper on that and aggravating them. Of course he knew about Arcadia. KaibaCorp knew about everything.

“Psychic duelist?" Riley whispered. They didn't seem capable of much more than that. Mokuba was barely close enough to hear them.

"Duelists that can summon duel monsters and card effects to the real world,” Mokuba explained. "My brother doesn't believe in that stuff, but I'm not him. I mean, we do actually know a psychic duelist. Though they don't really call themself that.” He glared of the witch. “What do a bunch of psychic duelists want with me, anyway?"

“I told you, you are not the one I seek!” A violent wind started whipping through the room. There was no way the wind outside was this strong!

Mokobe reflexively lifted his duel disk in front of him. Yeah, that'll help a lot against a psychic duelist. "Then what do you want?"

“The Arcadia Movement is here for Riley Akaba.” The witch took a step towards Riley and Mokuba. The wind picked up, pulling cards from their duel disks and sending them flying around the room.

"The Leo Corporation apparently does a good job of making sure Riley is never alone, like a possession to be guarded. That's why we're here to free you. Of all the people you were to be around, Mokuba Kaiba, despite being the vice-president of Kaiba Corp, was determined to be the least threat, which is why we are here now.”

“Hey!” Mokuba allowed himself only a moment to feel hurt by that. He knew he had to be the one to act, he was used to these situations while Riley still didn’t look like they were doing too well. This was weird, though. Mokuba was used to the one being kidnapped, but not so much to being there during the kidnapping while not being the target. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? He jumped in front of Riley, putting himself between them and the witch. "Not on my watch! You'll have to get through me to get to Riley.”

The Black Rose Witch seemed unphased by Mokuba’s declaration (though it was hard to tell under their mask). They held up a card. "Ivy Shackles!"

Mokuba felt himself thrown towards the side of the room. He couldn't stop the scream that flew out of him. He didn't feel himself make contact with the wall, but the next thing he knew he was next to it, tangled up in a bunch of plants. This must be the Ivy Shackles, huh?

Riley turned to look at Mokuba. Tears were still falling down their face, slowly now. Yeah, this was going to leave a great impression. At this rate, Kaiba Corp would never get to speak to the Leo Corporation again, Shakily, Riley stood up on their feet. As they looked at Mokuba, he saw something change in their eyes. A darkness appeared that he hadn't seen before now.

The witch took a step towards Riley.

Riley's head snapped back in the witch's direction. One remained in their Extra Deck; Riley looked down as if as if he were listening to something, then drew the card out of their duel disk. "Psychic duelist... " They stared at the card as they held it in their hand. “Dark Rebellion Supreme King Dragon, I need help.”

A huge dragon curled itself around Riley, roaring; there was bavely enough room for it in Mokuba’s office. Riley placed one of their hands against it. It was as real as the Ivy Shackles of the Black Rose Witch. The dragon bent its head towards Mokuba. Mokuba flinched, not knowing what to expect, but the dragon used its mouth to tear away the Ivy Shackles and free him.

The Black Rose Witch took a step back. “You’re..."

“I don't need your help. I don't need to be freed." They bared their teeth, scowling at the witch. "I want to be here! I want to be with my brother and my friends. This is what I want!”

Dark Rebellion Supreme King Dragon stepped around Mokuba and Riley before roaring at the witch, swiping at them with its claws. Pretty soon the witch was retreating, even though Mokuba had the feeling they could have fought back. He wondered if they would come back, if they would go after Riley again.

Mokuba looked to Riley again. He could still see that darkness there, but it was disappearing. Now he couldn't believe the way he'd looked down on them , how incompetent he'd thought they were when they first walked into his office.

"I'm not being watched because I need to be guarded. It's because I'm dangerous.”

“Uh, thanks," he said weakly.

The door to Mokuba’s office flew open. "What happened?" Reiji ran into the room; the commotion must been able to be heard in Seto's office, then. Reiji ran to Riley's side to check on them. He did not appear phased by the giant real dragon in the room that disappeared the second Riley saw him.

“I am so sorry, we should have better security than this,” Mokuba immediately said. "I did my best--"

Reiji silenced Molaba with a look. His expression was hard to read. "I am not mad with you." Reiji was able to quickly tell that Riley was unharmed.

“Someone tried to kidnap me," Riley told Reiji. "But Mokuba and I were able to chase them away.”

Mokube really hadn't been able to do much besides getting smacked around, but at the moment he didn't have it in him to protest.

He blinked, and Seto was by his side. His brother had come, too. "Mokuba, what happened?"

“It was Arcadia.” A wave of exhaustion was hitting Mokuba. He hadn't realized it until it really hit him that they were safe now.

Selo frowned. He looked closely at Mokuba. "This meeting is over. You need to get checked out”

“I'm fine," Mokuba protested. He wasn't so weak that he needed to be helped with every little thing. Reiji and Riley Akaba were right there. This was embarrassing.

Seto rolled his eyes. “You’re covered in scratches and you hit your head against the wall. I won't let you take chances with your health like this, Mokuba."

Did he hit his head against the wall? Mokuba didn't remember that happening, but his head did hurt. The scene melted away for a second. For just a moment it wasn't KaibaCorp’s president checking on his vice president after an attack during a business meeting. It was Seto and Mokuba alone in the world, Seto checking on Mokuba after a bully came after him. Mokuba tried not to tear up. He hadn't thought about those days in a long time. He’d hardered up since those days, a conscious effort to become more self-reliant. Seto had changed since then, too.

But in all the time that had passed, Seto still had Mokuba’s back when he needed it. In all that had changed, they hadn't lost each other.

#yugioh #yugioh 5ds #yugioh arc v #tater writes #tater.txt #this takes place in the miracle synchro fusion universe for anyone that cares about that universe ig

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heyitsani · 3 years

Text

Freebie Friday

That’s totally a thing, right? IDK I just needed a title because my OCD requires it. Anyway, with my hubs home for the unforeseeable future thanks to maskholes and COVID deniers, I was able to plow through the rest of my DG Exchange fic! Which means, I was able to work on some other stuff.

My past lives AU in particular. So I’m gonna give you all a little sneak peek at that piece. Particularly @epistemologys because you left such love on the first part of this series.

Here is the first piece of the Before We Learned Our Truth Too Late series. This bit is from Damian’s POV of the story, sort of. It essentially picks up from where the previous piece ends. In order to not give anything away, I am sharing a past life memory with Damian and Jason (and a tiny side appearance from Dick).

I have also tagged this piece with the hashtag ‘past lives au’ and will use that for any bits I post regarding this series. Like headcanons and scenes that don’t make the final cut. Things like that. Feel free to send requests regarding the series into my asks!

Reminder: this is completely unedited and raw. All mistakes are my own.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I may be a king, but he is my son. And I will not ignore him for my duties. I will not have him think I care for others more than I care for my own child.” Damian frowned as he hid just around the corner from where his father was speaking to a high-ranking member of the Council. He didn’t need to hear the start of the conversation to know that this was in regard to the appearance he had made earlier when the Council had been in session. He hadn’t known and wouldn’t have barged in if he had, but once he had come in his father had insisted on hearing what he had come in for.

Like he always did, and Damian never gave much thought to.

“What are you doing, Little Prince?” Damian flinched when a voice sounded behind him. Turning, he found Ser Jason standing with a knowing smile on his lips and an amused glint in his eyes. “We should work on your awareness regarding your surroundings.”

Sighing, the ten-year-old turned his back completely to what he had been watching and looked up at the man who was, for all intents and purposes, a second father to him. “I made a mistake today,” he admitted, looking down at the ground. Ser Jason said nothing, and Damian peeked up at the man through his lashes. The frown that was present confused him.

“Did your father say you made a mistake?” Damian shook his head and looked back down. “Did he tell you that you did anything wrong? Treat you as though you had?”

He thought back to the moment he had rushed into the room and how his father had looked at him. He hadn’t looked thrilled, but he had looked happy at the very least. He remembered how he had heard muttering coming from the men and women at the table but how his father had ignored them and let Damian climb into his lap and tell him about the jump he had made on his horse earlier.

“No,” Damian admitted, scuffing his boot on the ground. “But…” Glancing over his shoulder, he frowned at the corner that hid his father and the Councilmember.

“But nothing, Little Prince,” Ser Jason said, kneeling to get eyelevel with him. Damian looked at the older man, still feeling ashamed for upsetting the Council and forcing his father to have to speak up. “Come with me, I’ll tell you a story.” Ser Jason stood and held his hand out for Damian to take while they walked.

Hesitating just a moment, with one last backward glance, Damian slipped his smaller hand into the much larger one. He remained silent as they walked away from where his father had been and toward the kitchens.

“When you were born your father was concerned,” Ser Jason started as they got far enough away from his father, so they would not be overheard. “Your grandmother, Talia, was not the warmest of mothers. She was strict and enforced many rules on your father and uncle. She wanted them to be the very best and she thought that meant not treating them as her children, but as her pupils. Even though Prince Timothy was just a toddler and your father not much older. Your grandfather, though kinder and more understanding, took his duty as king very seriously when he was crowned after your father was born.”

Having heard stories about his grandmother from his father, what Ser Jason was telling him made sense. And he knew his grandfather well enough to know how important duty was to him. But he didn’t understand what this had to do with what had happened today. Or why his father had been concerned when he had been born.

“He told me he was worried you would not know just how loved you were. That you might grow up the way he had because your mother was not going to be…very attentive. He worried he would be like his own father.” Damian looked up at the man and stopped walking, furrowing his brows at that revelation. Ser Jason laughed and gave his hand a tug so they could resume walking. “That face you’re making just supports what I had told him. There was no way that your father would do anything other than love you openly.”

Damian considered this information as he was led into the kitchens and then lifted onto one of the stools he and Ser Jason always sat on while indulging in a snack. He missed the way the cook rolled her eyes as Ser Jason gave her his bright smile. He didn’t see the other kitchen workers chuckling as the head cook went to get them a snack. All he could focus on was the fact that his father, the one person he had never doubted cared deeply for him, had worried Damian wouldn’t know love.

“Ser Jason?” Damian looked over at the man as he took his usual seat. The man raised a dark brow and waited for Damian to continue. “Did I get Father in trouble today?” Ser Jason looked startled for a moment before laughing loudly. Glancing around, Damian noticed the entire kitchen staff stopped to watch the pair fondly for a moment before going back to their tasks.

“Little Prince,” Ser Jason gasped, still chuckling, “your father gets himself in trouble with the Council all the time, and he will always admit when he is wrong. But on this? On this he will never admit any faults. Because loving you? Being your father first and foremost? That is not a fault.” Relaxing a little onto his stool, Damian sighed. He was glad to hear his father was not in trouble because of him.

Smiling at the cook who set a plate in front of them, Damian thanked her before turning that smile onto the man next to him. He wasn’t at all surprised to find that familiar smile on Ser Jason’s face, the one Damian knew was just for him and his father.

#jaydick #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #my writing #sneak peek #past lives au

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wolfpawn · 4 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 42

Story Summary - Based on an idea I had that I submitted to Imagine Loki. Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.

Chapter Summary - Loki wakes with no memory of his mate's words to him before he fell asleep. They try to relax to allow him to get used to being home again after war but life is not really going to be so easy.

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Tags - @peppermint-j @damalseer @perpetual-fangirl @tinchentitri @inspired-snowflace @raphaelaisabella @alexakeyloveloki @caffiend-queen @devilbat @nonsensicalobsessions @skulliebythesea @majoringinlife @salempoe @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @rookienumber98 @ivytoh @agarwaeneth @rosierossette @arch-venus25 @nessamaurice

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NOTES - So, we're stuck doing this crap where all the fun stuff is gone and shops are charging 5 times the rate for anything good, and even with that, it's taken me this long to write a chapter. Sorry, everyone.

Ella woke to the sensation of their fluids seeping from her. She had not felt it in a long time with Loki’s absence, causing it to feel somewhat peculiar for her. She thought about it for a moment, knowing the reason for it not staying in her body for long was that there was nowhere for it to go. It was rendered useless by an earlier coupling facilitating the need to create a child and now, the entrance to her womb was long sealed to ensure the safety of the little one growing within it.

She recalled the day she realised that she was carrying. She had simply planned to touch one of the wilting petals of the ice flowers Loki always ensured to have in his/their room as she passed it. It was dying anyway and she liked the sensation of them dissolving as she touched it. Only this time, it did not melt. She looked at the flora for a moment, still as it had been before and to her hand, where it was barely even damp from the petal. She walked over and touched it again, noting the soft, silken feel to it as she did. For a moment, she wondered if her seidr had caused her to be able to do it. More than once, she tried different spells to see if she could attempt to touch them, to no avail. When Laufey’s words of how Nal, Loki’s mother, could only touch them when she was carrying Loki, she found herself realising that in their more recreational matings, she and Loki had created a child. Something their initial attempts failed miserably at.

She had contemplated telling Loki but then Thor came rushing onto the realm telling them of the issues that had arisen and the need for Jotunheim to join the fray. That had caused her to say nothing. She did not want Loki to fret while he was fighting. She had let slip slightly that she worried that Býleistr was not on their side and should Loki be harmed, she fretted that as the child was Loki’s heir, who was formally recognised by his father as his own one, they would be immediately gotten rid of, especially if it was a boy. Having an Aesir mother to the future king of Jotunheim would be tolerated while Loki was alive as he would ensure the child had a Jotun upbringing and would ensure it would follow in his likeness as a ruler but there would be no way that the general Jotnar population. It would be as some accused previously, Odin seizing control of Jotunheim through his daughter. That, she knew, would never be allowed happen and fleeing with the child meant that for as long as it would live, she would need to be wary of the risk of it being harmed. Thankfully, that had not come to pass.

When Loki returned, she tried to tell him but he was weary, experiencing the first good night’s sleep in what she would wager was eight months. She did not try to stir him again to repeat her previous words, she had another eight months of carrying their child, her revelation could wait until he was more awake. She turned slightly to look at Loki resting beside her. She felt more comfortable in his room in his absence, his scent almost causing her to sleep and rest better while also seemingly keeping the feelings of nausea at bay. From the manner in which Loki had panicked at the thought of her leaving the bed, she felt he had missed her in some manner also. She stretched her legs slightly and gently removed herself from the bed, doing whatever she could to prevent the seed that was between her legs from staining it as she did so. She had not even made it to the bathroom door when she felt Loki’s eyes on her, telling her that as much as she tried, she had failed to leave the bed without waking him.

When she had cleaned herself and went back into the room, she frowned to see Loki standing close to the door that separated their front room and bed area. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I just ordered some food.” He watched as she changed into day attire with the assistance of her seidr. “That suits you.” It was genuine. He noted the design and gave a smile, noting that she had caused her clothes to mirror the designs of his markings, signifying her allegiance to him as her mate.

Ella found herself blushing slightly. “Thank you.”

“Did you design that this morning?”

“No, I have been wearing items like this for the majority of the time you were gone.”

Loki was startled but proud of that statement. “Very good, I was not sure what you wished to have for breakfast, so I hope you have little issue with some of what I ordered.”

“I assume that you missed your favourite foods and ordered accordingly, meaning that there will be plenty for me to choose from...if you do not eat them all first.”

Loki could only smile at her playful and jovial tone. “I fear you have figured me out.”

“Even with a good portion of our marriage being apart, I think so.”

For a moment, Loki had to remember what that word meant. Marriage was something he heard with regularity in the talks with non-Jotnar through the time on the battlefield yet he rarely thought of the term when he thought of his own situation. To him, it seemed so sterile, too official in a manner referring to legality. It was a contract to most realms, he loathed the idea. Mates chose one another, in some manner and wishing to be together, to tend to one another. Most of the time, love was a factor, but even with regards to his mating with Ella, though it did not have a love like others had but there was mutual respect and understanding. He was happy with that much at the very least, long recalling the times where neither enjoyed the other’s company, both loathing the situation that was their life, they had developed a friendship which in turn became the situation they had now, something he thoroughly liked. She was not a mate he had wanted but she was one he knew was best for him and indeed, Jotunheim. She stood up for the realm time and again and indeed, seemingly acted as his mate should. Defending the name of the house and acting as he would have, demanding Býleistr’s return and such.

“That word does not sit well with you, does it? Or at least, I hope it’s that word that has you displeased and not some other part of my statement.”

Loki realised he had not kept his face neutral as she spoke those words. “No, it is that word.”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s too formal, official.”

“I feel like I should be insulted.”

Loki shook his head. “It is a word based on agreements and trades, it has no place between mates, two beings that choose to be together.”

“If it were not for its official status, then we would not be together. It was not affection and a meeting of minds that caused us to come together. The fact we can bear one another now is merely lucky happenstance. It could so easily have been so different.”

“I almost caused it to be that you would not even be here,” Loki recalled his actions when they first were forced to be called mates and how his abysmal treatment of Ella affected her.

“That does not bear thinking about now,” She insisted. “All that matters now is building Jotunheim stronger than ever before, with new alliances and such to better the realm for all those yet to come.”

Loki inhaled deeply and felt a new thought enter his mind. “Yes, I recall us speaking some little on that. So many young to be born in the near future. We need to ensure Jotunheim is all it can be for them.” He nodded slightly. “It is hard to comprehend in some manner, thinking of those to come next. I have always seen us as the youth and future of Jotunheim, myself, my brothers and the few our age but now we must think of those younger than us and there will be so many.”

“It is somewhat clear that in less than a decade, there will be more born than since your own birth at this rate.” Ella agreed.

“It is startling but in the best possible way. Jotunheim will be more than it ever was.”

“It will make the sacrifices of the war worth it in the end.” Loki’s face grew weary at her words. Not knowing what to say, Ella placed her arm on his. “I know it is hard to process. I only suffered momentary scuffles but I have seen the effects of all of this before and it is not easy or quick to be dismissed.”

Loki, startled by her genuine concern, nodded slightly and sighed.

“We better eat. You must be hungry. I would imagine Light Elf food leaves a lot to be desired by way of flavour for a Jotunn.”

“It all tastes so starchy.”

“It is, especially when you’re not used to it.” Ella nodded, knowing well that the vegetable foods of Alfheim would have been like nothing Loki would have ever experienced before. “So enjoy some proper food again.” She urged.

Loki went back to sleep soon after eating, still tired and weary from everything, urging Ella to go with him. Her, in her understanding, thought it to be because he knew her seidr would alert them to intruders, allowing him to rest easy for a time, Loki simply because he had no idea as to why it made him feel uneasy to think of her not being close to him but exhausted, he chose to not question it, especially when she did as he silently requested.

It was well past noon and indeed a reasonable lunch hour when there was an almost apprehensive knock on the door to their rooms. Ella turned to look at it before seeing Loki’s eyes wide beside her. “It is alright, if there were someone trying to harm us, they would not wait at the door and knock.” She soothed. She went to get out of the bed when Loki grasped her arm tightly, causing her to look at him worriedly.

“No, I will go.” He rose from the bed, his arm forming an ice blade in his hand as he did so.

Ella rose from the bed slowly behind him and walked towards the door. When she felt the seal of her seidr on the door begin to break, she waited apprehensively. When she heard Arden’s voice, she was calmed for a moment but wondered what has caused him to come when he would know how exhausted everyone was.

“Ella?”

She jumped slightly at him calling her but rushed into the other room. “Is everything...the King…?”

“Father is fine,” Loki assured her, watching her as she visibly relaxed at such news. “But there is another issue.” She looked curiously at him, wondering what it could be as she noted him studying her expression. “Apparently, it has just been proclaimed in court that you have been cavorting with other males in my absence.”

Ella merely looked at him with confusion. “Excuse you?”

#pride and prejudice #chapter 42 #loki fic #wolfpawn

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astralkoo · 5 years

Text

Beautifully Misfit 2

SERIES: Hybrid BTS

‣ Genre: fluff, smutt, hybrid au

‣ Word Count: 3k

‣ Pairing(s): skunk!Jimin x reader, puppy!Taehyung x reader, bunny!Jungkook x reader

‣ Warning(s): strong language, angst, bullying, fighting (not graphic), some mentions of abuse and neglect, talks of euthanasia

‣ to be aware of: sub!jimin, switch!taehyung, switch!jungkook, dom!reader, some kinky ass future happenings, BDSM themes, some heavy angst, and triggering themes.

Summary: you never really saw yourself as a hybrid person. that is, until your best friend introduces you to his hybrid, and you suddenly find yourself craving the companionship. you only intended to bring home one. somewhere between the lines you ended up with three beautifully misfit hybrids who craved nothing but your love.

part. i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi (coming soon)

A/N; I promise I’ll introduce Jiminie and Kookie next chapter, I just wanted to get all the introductory stuff out of the way early on without making the chapters too long! Also, thank you so much for the positive responses on Beautifully Misfit part 1! It means a lot, and I hope you enjoy part 2!

“Are you sure it’s enough?” You asked for the twenty thousandth time.

“Y/n,” Namjoon sighed, “you practically bought out the entire store, I’m pretty sure you’re set for the next twelve decades.”

“But what if there’s something I missed?”

“Trust me, you’re not missing any of the general necessities. You don’t even know what breed of hybrid you’re going to get and somehow you’re already over prepared.”

You offered him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. “I suppose, I might have gone a bit overboard?”

He laughed loudly, “what gave it away? The king sized bed you ordered or the five thousand dollars worth of miscellaneous items?”

Humming in thought, you meekly interlaced your fingers behind your back, swaying a bit in your step, “a bit of both?”

Shaking his head at your ridiculous antics, he let out a light hearted chuckle, pulling you into his side. “You are one of a kind, you know that?” You smiled brightly up at him, wrapping your arm around his waist.

“So I’ve been told.”

But the light aura surrounding you seemed to crack as you approached the building. A sudden bout of uncertainty and nervousness gripped at your heart and mind.

You were finally here. After weeks of preparing your home for your new addition, endless hours of researching, and having several mental breakdowns in the arms of your best friend, you had finally arrived at the hybrid shelter.

It was almost surreal.

And definitely terrifying.

The shelter itself had been difficult to find. Originally, you’d believed it was fine to just pop into any random hybrid shop, because there was pretty much one on every block. Hybrids were very common, especially in the area you were currently living in. One prominent change in society a few years back was the climb in hybrid normality.

They’d once symbolized wealth and high status, but as their population increased, their value dropped and therefore, they were within reach of the ordinary man and woman. Within a span of two years, they became normal to have in everyday households.

Back when you were in middle school, there was only one girl who’s family was wealthy enough to own a hybrid. And she made sure to rub it in everyone’s face every chance she got.

But now, one glance down a street and there were usually at least three within view.

Unfortunately, this sprout in population came with several prominent downsides.

It wasn’t rare to hear of underground hybrid fighting rings. Men and women used hybrids as a source of entertainment, their own twisted amusement. The death of a hybrid in those fighting rings was like some sick joke on the street.

It was also not unusual to hear of hybrids being used for… sexual activities. Whether it be the owner abusing their power over a hybrid and taking advantage of them, or a hybrid being sold by a new form of pimp for money and power. It was a messed up system.

There were organizations that countered these issues, fortunately. Organizations that were dedicated to saving and protecting hybrids, as well as finding safe forever homes for them. Like H4H, ‘Home for Hybrids,’ which was where Namjoon had adopted Jin from and where you were currently going to adopt your own.

It was one of the most well known Hybrid protection organizations in the nation, and one of the most well credited. Unlike many other hybrid ‘rescues’, H4H took good care of their residents, treated them fairly and without abuse, tending to each hybrids unique needs in the most effective way possible.

You may or may not have read that off their website home page.

But it seemed legit enough. Namjoon approved of it, and you trusted Namjoon. He was good at this kind of thing.

“What’s with that face?” He nudged you gently in the side, breaking you from your train of thought.

“Just a little nervous. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you nodded confidently, eyes flickering over the exterior of the shelter. It was big. Really big. You wondered how many hybrids were inside. Probably hundreds. Maybe even thousands. Okay, that’s be an exaggeration, but possibly close to!

That thought alone sent another wave of unease over your restless mind.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Namjoon asked, concern obvious in his tone. He knew how you could be in these types of situations. You know, with decisions and all that. Especially life changing ones.

You quickly shook your head.

“No! No, I’m sure. I can do this by myself. I want to do this by myself,” you said, determination burning in your eyes. Your best friend smiled down at you adoringly, nodding in understanding.

“Alright. Good luck, Y/n,” He pecked your cheek, before turning to leave, only to pause at the feeling on your hand on his wrist. He looked back at you with furrowed brows, nearly melting into the damn floor at the look on your face.

This meant a lot to you. It really did. There weren’t a lot of important things in your life at the moment, but this was important. So important in fact that you’d spent the last few nights damn near tearing your hair out in a nauseating mixture of raw terror and unbridled excitement. Which was more overpowering was debatable.

“How… how will I know?”

He smiled reassuringly, flicking your forehead gently. “Trust this old dusty thing. You’ll just know. Don’t overthink it and don’t force it. If it’s meant to be, it’ll come naturally.”

You swallowed. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got this.”

“Damn right you got this,” He egged you on, playfully shoving you towards the massive center, “now go before you chicken out and bury your regret in a gallon of ice cream.”

Whipping around you threatening raised a hand at him, but he just laughed loudly and scurried out of arms reach, waving encouragingly as he got into his car. “You’ll be fine! I believe in you!”

You only flipped him the bird, earning a few looks from passerby’s.

“That Kim Namjoom,” you grumbled under your breath in aggravation, in spite of the smile that touched your lips.

With renewed confidence, you squared your shoulders, raising your chin as you struck a quick power pose. “I’ve got this.”

Yeah… you don’t got this.

As soon as you entered the building, your mind went blank. The lobby resembled that of a five star hotel, wide and modern and absolutely gorgeous. There were at least fifteen other people, some working there, others on a similar mission as you.

“Hello.”

You let out a yelp of shock, whipping around to come face to face with an unfamiliar boy.

He was very handsome, with brightly shining eyes and the kind of smile that would normally have you swooning in seconds had it not been for your buzzing nerves.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You just looked a little lost and overwhelmed. I’m going to assume that it’s your first time?”

You could only nod, cheeks warming faintly. Had you really looked that out of place?

The boy’s smile widened and he politely raised a hand for you to shake, “my names Jung Hoseok. I work here, as you can probably guess by the uniform and name tag. I’d be glad to help you out, if you’d like?”

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself, cringing as your voice cracked, “and yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”

“Right this way, Y/n.” He took a step back, extending an arm to gesture at two large glass doors. Stifling any remaining unease, you allowed him to guide you through, immediately filling with curiosity. There was a hallway with three more doors, each with a large label across the top. The first read domestic, the second aquatic, the third exotic. “Any specific preference?” He asked, turning to you with another bright smile.

“Uh… domestic?”

“Good choice, I usually recommend exotic and aquatic hybrids for experienced owners. They can be a bit more of a handful and far more high maintenance, especially when it comes to their unique requirements. They can be quite pricy.” He explained with a playful click of his tongue that coaxed a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I don’t doubt that,” you couldn’t imagine the kind of home a person would need to own an aquatic hybrid, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but do you have a hybrid of your own?”

“I do, actually! A grumpy munchkin cat hybrid, his names Yoongi. I adopted him from this very place four years ago. He’s actually the reason I became passionate about hybrids,” he gushed fondly, clasping his hands in front of him. His eyes shined as he spoke, betraying just how dearly he loved this Yoongi.

“Was he your first?” You questioned.

He nodded. “My first and only!”

Immediately any restraint you had on your curiosity burst like an overstretches rubber band. “What was it like? How’d you know that he was the one you wanted? And what was it like bringing him home for the first time? Did it just click or did it take time? You said he was grumpy, has he ever bitten or scratched you? Shit, none of these hybrids bite, do they? I don’t tolerate pain very well so I don’t know just how well I’d be able to cope with being bit or scratched or—”

You began to ramble off question after question, his eyes going wide as he tried to process your words as quickly as they came shooting from your lips. But his shocked expression quickly turned to a gentle smile. At the feeling of his hand resting gently on your shoulder, you quickly snapped your mouth shut, face heating as you realized your mistake.

Leave it to you to have the biggest mouth of the century.

Hoseok was quick to cut off the apology that was seconds from being spit from your mouth with soothing words, “you’re nervous. That’s okay, I was, too.”

“Really? I’m not just loosing my mind over nothing?” Your lips turned upwards sheepishly as your shoulders rose.

A bright laugh bubbled on his lips at that, quickly shaking his head. “No, no, not at all. You’re bringing an entirely new living being into your home. Someone that you’ll be responsible for not only taking care of, but loving and protecting to the best of your ability. If you do that, then they will show you that same love and compassion in return. It’s an relationship of mutualism, give and you will receive. Trust and you will be trusted.”

Trust and you will be trusted.

You stared up at the boy beside you in awe, amazed by his wisdom. “Shit, you really do know your stuff, huh?”

He playfully popped his collar, giving a modest shrug. “I try.” You laughed loudly, him grinning happily at having been able to ease a bit of the tension that had been weighing down your shoulders. “Now come on, its time to find you your perfect new family.”

Family. That’s right. Family. You liked the sound of it.

Excitement overwhelmed the previously buzzing nerves that now lay dormant.

You hovered close behind him, fidgeting as he swiped his key card over a recognition device, a low beeping sound filling the hall before a notable click. With one last smile shot in your direction, he pulled open the door.

And you swear to god, you damn near dropped dead at the sight before you (in the ‘it’s so fluffy you could die’ kind way).

Hybrids–fucking–galore.

It was like a little pet paradise. Toys for every species and massive bean bags adorned freshly polished hardwood floors.

And the hyrbids. Dear god they were adorable.

“Wow,” you murmured, heart warming at the sight of two young cat hybrids playing happily with a unwinding ball of yarn. There was a group of puppy hybrids wrestling in the corner, playfully batting at one another and rolling across the floor. You smiled, giggling quietly until a sharp yell of pain split through the upbeat atmosphere.

“You bit him!” One cried in shock.

“I–I didn’t mean to, it was an accident, I swear!” A dark brown haired boy with large eyes spoke frantically. He tried to reach for the one that had yelped only to be harshly shoved away, a growl tearing from his throat.

“This is why no one likes to play with you! Because you’re just a stupid mutt.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You should be. I better not get any of your filthy diseases.”

“I don’t have any d–diseases!”

“Liar, you’re a disgusting, diseased mutt. Why do you think no one ever wants to keep you?”

“Shut up!” The brown haired boy shouted, delivering a rough shove to the over boy’s shoulders, sending him flying to the ground.

“Tae!” Hoseok was quickly leaving your side, running over to the two as they began to fight in a much less playful way than before. You could only watch with wide eyes as he intervened, pulling the two growling pups away from each other. “Both of you calm down before you get your snack time taken for the next week!”

That shut them up real quick.

Crossing him arms over his chest, he glanced back and forth between the hybrid, a hard but concern expression on his face. “Would either of you like to explain what just happened.”

“Taehyung bit me!” The first and much larger boy was quick to bark out. Haha. Bark out. Get it because they’re both dog hybrids? No, okay. Moving on,

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Taehyung cried out desperately, “I tried to say sorry but he pushed me and started saying really mean things!”

“Did not.”

“Did to!”

“Hey! Stop that right now! You’re both acting like immature puppies, you know that is not how we behave.” They snapped their jaws shut obediently, heads lowering as they were scolded.

“I’m sorry, Hobi,” Taehyung whimpered, tugging at his sleeve meekly.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, Tae. You need to apologize to each other.”

He looked far less thrilled about that, but spit out a soft ‘sorry’ to the other hybrid nonetheless.

The larger grunted stubbornly, turning away, chin held up pridefully. “Sehun, apologize to Taehyung. Now.” Hoseok voice was quiet but surprisingly firm. Sehun let out a low sound of frustration, eyes flicking back over to where they stood.

“Sorry.”

“Very good, thank you. But you both know the consequences of fighting.” The two canines quietly whined in protest. “Ah–ah… none of that. After lunch and dinner you’ll both be helping the staff clean up and wash dishes. Now back to your rooms for an hour, alright?”

Sehun shot one last sharp glare in Taehyung’s direction before stalking off, fluffy golden tail lowered. Taehyung bit his lip, worriedly looking up at Hoseok. “I’m real sorry, Hobi. Are you mad at me?”

Hoseok rested a hand between Taehyung’s dark ears, scratching reassuringly. “No, of course I’m not mad, Tae. I know it was an accident.” The dark haired hybrid whimpered happily in relief, nodding and scampering off. But for a brief moment, his eyes met yours. You could’ve sworn a blush touched his cheeks before he offered a welcoming wave and disappeared behind a set of doors.

“You handled that incredibly well,” you chimed.

Hoseok chuckled softly, “you learn how to handle situations like that after a few go arounds.”

“Who were they?”

“Sehun and Taehyung? Sehun is a German Shepard hybrid. He hasn’t been here for too long. But Tae…” he sighed softly, shaking his head, “he’s been in and out of this place since he was five.”

“Shit.”

“I know. He’s a good boy, he really is. He’s just been dealt a bad hand,” suddenly, he got this really sad look on his face, gnawing at the inside of his cheek, “listen. I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but…”

“But?” You urged, taking a step closer to him as his voice lowered.

“There was talk of him being put down if it doesn’t get adopted soon.”

Horror. Absolute horror.

“P–put down?” You repeated, praying that he would say you misheard. He nodded sadly, lips tightening. “That’s… that’s horrible. I didn’t realize this was a kill shelter.”

“It’s not meant to be. They’ve never put a single hybrid down before that I know of. But the higher ups are saying that his quality of life will just keep declining if he continues to be adopted and sent back. Things like that take their tole on hybrids mental health, which subsequently affects their physical health. Hybrids that suffer from mental illnesses are ten times more likely to become ill and far less likely to recover from something as seemingly simple as the common cold.”

“I never knew that.”

“Naturally, hybrids seek companionship. We all do to some extent, but hybrids with their animal counterparts actually need it. It’s not a matter of what looks good for the shelter. It’s a matter of whether this hybrid will be driven to extremes.”

“Extremes?”

“It’s possible that he may become feral.“

You felt yourself stiffen.

You’d done enough research to know what feral meant. His animal instincts would take over his mind, all human aspects ground into dust. He would become a danger to anyone around him. And would more likely than not end up being put down.

But you couldn’t picture the sweet boy with the big brown eyes becoming something so vicious and inhuman.

“That’s awful,” you muttered, more to yourself than to the worker beside you. He nodded in agreement nonetheless. Suddenly, you turned to him, eyes wide, “I would like to meet him.”

His own eyes enlarged hopefully, “really? You genuinely mean it? Because I don’t think he can take being let down again—”

“I mean it, Hoseok. I want to meet him.”

You could see how he was trying desperately to stifle his blossoming excitement.

“I’ll take you to his room!”

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

Text

Beta, Theta, and Me

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: PG Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now) Characters: Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags: A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary: Loki puts you to work immediately, but some of his idea of what 'work' is seems strange.

Lunch was made nervously: it had been some time since you last had the opportunity to actually cook something on a stove, with dishes, and ingredients you had to prepare yourself. Spaghetti, you decided, was the best way to go. You knew how to make it all in one pot, which had always saved you time on dishes.

Loki didn't speak a word to you while you worked, just staring out the windows in contemplation. The view from here was oriented to the back of the building, where the fire escape was, and the dumpsters just across the street. He probably couldn't see them from this far off the ground, but you wondered if Stark hadn't put him here on purpose, as a mild insult.

It was strange to think you'd spent the last week sleeping on that fire escape, so far below him.

When you brought the meal to him, he gazed at it, unimpressed, and made no move to eat it.

“This looks incredibly messy.” He said. You should have known a prince would be prim about food. “You will have to help me eat it.”

“What?” You asked. Surely he wasn't that prim!

“I am not at present easily able to lean forward.” He explained. “I will need you to feed this to me. Do not make me repeat myself.” He added, at your hesitation. “I will need much from you that your unrefined living has apparently made you unready for. Do not sit there thinking up a sonnet about it, just do it!”

You hurriedly scooted a chair over next to him, spinning noodles into a little ball on the fork, and holding it out for him. It gave you the weird feeling of feeding a giant baby bird; you needed to get the food directly into his mouth, but you couldn't just jab, or shove.

“It is passable.” He declared after the first bite. “Just make sure not to get any of that sauce on me. Now, where is your portion?”

“Mine?” Though your stomach had been growling wildly, and your mouth watering the entire time, you hadn't cooked more than one portion. You'd still been in the headspace that told you to wait until it was safe to steal from the trash.

“I didn't know I was supposed to cook anything for me. I thought it was just supposed to be for you.” You said honestly. If you'd known, you definitely would have made a big meal for yourself.

Loki breathed a sigh. “ I suppose there is no help for it then. What use is a servant who collapses from hunger? You must take a bite yourself, after each one you give me.”

“What?” You repeated.

“Do you not hear me, or are you just that dull?” Loki asked.

“No, it's just...I've never done anything like this before.”

“Oh, I know.” Loki said. “Assigning me an incompetent servant is just one of Starks many little insults to me.”

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

“All part of the game, my dear. Stark is a fool if he thinks I cannot spin gold from dross. Now take your bite.”

You swirled a few noodles onto the fork.

“Is this sanitary?” You wondered aloud.

“Given that you came to me filthy and stinking, and I've seen you grubbing around in the garbage down there, I shouldn't have thought that would be an issue with you.”

You jerked back. He knew?

“My eyes are much better than yours. Than any humans. Even in twilight, I could see you. Oh, but humans really are a pathetic race; abandoning their own to the point that some of you apparently go feral.”

“Now that's not-”

“Not true? No? Tell me then, why are your greatest examples of so-called civilization filled with homeless, and poor, and dying? Your most advanced spaces overflowing with suffering? Your loftiest monuments to your own achievements tower over the corpses of those who were crushed in order to build them. I meant to usher in a true golden age, unlike anything humanity had ever experienced! Peace, prosperity, unity, all of the things you cannot seem to find for yourselves.”

“How many corpses for your monument?” You asked. He scowled.

“Eat the food.” He commanded. “I do not carry any diseases, and I do not fear yours.”

Huffily, you took your bite. It wasn't half bad. Could have been better, if you weren't so out of practice.

“Good girl. And now mine.”

Back and forth you went, turning a simple lunch into something uncomfortably intimate. He watched you like a predator, and you tried to distract yourself with what your paycheck would get you. Fingernail clippers. A toothbrush. Socks.

There were so many things, big and little, that you needed in order to get established.

“Are you lost, feral thing?” Loki asked, jerking you out of your thoughts. “I will be leaving the dishes to you, for obvious reasons.”

“Oh. Yeah, right. Lemmie just take care of that.”

Meal finished, you hurried to the little kitchen to do the washing up. It had been a good idea to limit the amount of dishes you'd used, because soon enough he had you out on the floor, sweeping. And then up a ladder, cleaning the windows. And then dusting. And then beating the rugs out on the balcony. And then sweeping the balcony. And, of course, cleaning the bathroom, which barely looked used.

What, did alien lordships not need to shit?

There was a separate room, which housed an actual bathtub, a huge round thing that was clearly meant to hold more than one person. You cleaned it too, though, from the thin layer of dust, it seemed that it hadn't been used either. Also in the room was a small, wooden closet, that you finally identified as a sauna, which you also cleaned.

He practically had you scrubbing the walls, before suppertime finally rolled around.

“Cook enough for yourself this time as well.” He said. “Then you may take time to yourself for the evening, though I will have one last task for you, just before I retire.”

You opted for chicken fingers and french fries, finding them both in the freezer, ready to prepare.

Loki was very unimpressed, though whether it was by the humble nature of the food, or the very concept of dipping sauces, you weren't sure. He seemed especially outraged by barbecue sauce.

“Humans have no refinement!” He complained. “A riot in the streets or a riot on the tongue, it matters not, as long as you can somehow lose yourselves in something!”

Apparently ketchup was exactly as offensive.

After dinner, you washed the dishes, then went to your apartment and lay down on the floor, in the place you intended to put your future bed. You didn't really have anything to occupy your time, so you lay there, eyes closed, waiting for dinner to digest.

You were startled awake by the sound of Loki's voice right by your ear, calling your name. You must have inadvertently dozed off. You hurried out of your apartment and into the penthouse in order to find him.

He was positioned next to a big fireplace that was decorated like something out of a fancy mountain lodge. All that was missing was a bearskin rug, and an animal head mounted above the mantel.

Loki was reading a book in a language you couldn't quite make out, and he didn't bother looking up as you approached.

“Uh, you called?”

“You heard. Good, you can hear me. Yes, there is one last task I need to to perform this evening. I need you to go into my room, remove your uniform, and lay down in my bed. Then-”

“Gonna have to stop you right there, champ!” You exclaimed. “Absolutely not! Not happening. I don't care what you say, that's not part of the job! That's never going to be part of the job, and honestly? Fuck you for thinking you can just take whatever you want from me! Did you treat your old Asgardian servants this way? Disgusting! Hey...are you laughing or choking?”

He was laughing, though it clearly pained him. You glared.

“Are you done?” He asked, once he'd gotten control of himself. “If so, then I ask that you look at me and apply a little critical thinking. Why should I desire a feral dumpster rat? And how, exactly, do you expect me to perform, when I am...like this?” He gestured to the bulky neck brace.

“Well...” That was a good point. “What was all that 'get naked and get in bed' stuff then?”

“I never said naked, I said to remove your uniform first. I want you to warm my bed up before I sleep. Just lay there for about thirty minutes, then dress and leave. It was a perfectly respectable profession on Asgard, usually undertaken by those who, for whatever reason, couldn't do much else. I don't see why it should cause so much fuss here. Do you think yourself above the task?”

“No, I can do it.” You said. “We don't really have a 'bed warmer' job here, though I wouldn't be surprised if the rich were forcing their help into positions like that. But when people tell you to do that kind of thing 'here', it's assumed to lead to other things. The upper classes seem bent on just taking whatever they want from those they have authority over, and you killed a bunch of people and wanted to take over the world. Why should I assume you're any different?”

“Because I do not come from barbarian stock, feral thing. I am the son of kings. Now go lay down. Set a timer. Reflect on how much better a master I am to have than apparently anyone else on this forsaken planet.”

You grumbled a bit, but mostly just to yourself. This had really been a hell of a day.

*****

Loki's room was huge, but not as ostentatious as you'd thought it would be. For some reason, you had envisioned gold and jewels on everything, maybe stained glass in the windows, and you were still hung up on the idea of bearskin rugs.

The rugs here were not bears though, but intricately patterned weaves in green, yellow, and black, three colors that dominated the decor. Plush rugs and tapestries that served as curtains, blocking out nearly all outside light. His lordship must like to sleep late.

It was easy to tell what pieces of furniture came from far away Asgard, and what came from down the street Ikea. His desk, his bed, his dresser and the old fashioned chest at the foot of his bed were all heavy, solid, dark wood, with blackened metal, and green leather. The chairs and side table, however, were simple, painted plywood.

To your surprise, there was a collection of weapons scattered across the desk and dresser. There was a sword, carved with a snake, its edges dark with either corrosion or poison, a weighted net, woven with barbs, and a bow as long as you were tall, with a gorgeous leather and velvet quiver filled with black fletched, ebony arrows. And just...so many knives. From the length of your thumb, to the length of your forearm, with straight, curved, angled, and wavy blades.

Loki must not let anyone in here, for all these to still be here. You were pretty sure that if Stark knew, they'd be confiscated.

Damn, you were going to have to decide whether to keep your mouth shut or not, weren't you?

You stripped out of the loaned uniform, and slipped under the thick, velvety blankets. You'd expected that Loki would have a stupidly large bed, the best sheets the softest pillows, but where to lay? You wriggled your way to the center of the spacious bed-honestly, how many people did he expect to fit into this thing? No, maybe you didn't want to know. Royal orgies were...well, you just weren't interested.

How long had it been since you had lain in a real bed? It seemed like decades. Even then, you'd never been in a bed this luxurious. How soft and silky these sheets were! The blankets were like clouds, and the pillowcases-were they made of satin? That must be how he kept those gentle curls. No doubt it was difficult to tend to his hair with that brace on his neck.

The whole room smelled powerfully of Alpha, always just a little too strong for comfort. Maybe you just had too many negative associations with that scent, but it always made you uncomfortable. No matter how much you tried to relax here, it was keeping you on high alert.

Even when he wasn't in the room, he was still dominating. He could barely do anything on his own, but he was still such a commanding presence. Some of that was sheer regal countenance rather than pheromones. That chemical cocktail might have no effect on you, but force of personality did.

Underneath the Alpha scent was another, heavier in the bed than anywhere else. It was him, of course, the scent that would belong to him alone, Alpha or not. This one wasn't so bad. It was softer, a gentle counterpoint to the harsh Alpha smell.

Tomorrow was payday. Maybe you should get a bed? Or at least a nice futon? You should definitely get some towels, so you didn't have to drip dry every time you showered. But first you should pick up your little caches of things from around the city, if any of them were still intact. That would get you some clothes, some toiletries, a sleeping bag, even some books.

You were turning things over in your head, making lists of things to get, and in which order to do so, when you heard Loki's voice call your name again. You sat up straight in his bed, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Put on your uniform and open the door, you heard. It was like he was in the room with you. You scrambled to get dressed. Had thirty minutes already passed? That was another thing you had to do tomorrow-get your phone turned back on. You really needed access to the timer function.

He was right outside the door when you opened it, gazing at you with mild disapproval.

“That took too long.” He complained. “And your hair is a mess.”

“I was just lying down.” You said, raking a hand through your hair. “And if I was already taking too long, stopping to fix my hair would have taken even longer.”

“I don't pay you for sass, girl.” Loki sniffed.

“You don't pay me at all.” You said. “Tony Stark does, to take care of you.”

“Then take care of me. Help me into bed.”

You sensed trickery, but helped him stand anyway. He leaned his weight on you, and your body nearly buckled. Standing, wrapped in a robe, you could tell that he was thin, so how could he possibly weigh so much?

You led him to the side of his spacious bed, where he carefully flopped down and had you pull the blankets up to his shoulders.

“It is still cold.” He complained.

“Uh, well, I was in the middle of the bed.”

Loki frowned. “Pray tell, how did you think I was going to get into the middle of the bed?”

You didn't say anything. You should have thought about that, but you were just so disoriented by this new life you found yourself in.

“You are like a prey animal, just reacting to outside stimuli.” Loki pointed out. “I need you to possess wits. Go now, and find some.”

That was a dismissal, if ever you had heard one. You hurried out of his room and into yours, changed out of the Asgardian work uniform, and into the Stark uniform, then entered the elevator.

Tonight you would gather your things. Tomorrow, your apartment would be that much closer to a home.

#betathetaandme #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

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prince-toffee · 4 years

Text

Fallin’ For A Fallin’ Angel

So a little something I’ve been working on, sort of a prequel story about Hordak landing on Etheria and meeting Scorpia’s grandfather. Also, should I tag this with ‘scorpia’? Cause it’s not about her, but it’s about her family... so??? So here’s a small sneak peek.

Perfect.

Another day, another three hour meeting with the Hillian Council. Yet another time Niro has been forced to listen to the idiotic and outdated ramblings of the Council’s Priests, or ‘High Priests’ or ‘Grand Priests’, whatever their full damn title was. He hated them. With every fibre in his body. Just hearing their proposals and demands sparked flames that burned through his chest. He was King! For crying out loud! He shouldn’t have been able to be chained and caged like this, imprisoned in his own Council Room, in his own castle, IN HIS OWN KINGDOM! He was the monarch of this land, it’s King! Yet he felt trapped, thanks to the devious and manipulative web spun across the oceans of politics and government. He felt powerless in his own throne, well that was because he was utterly powerless, the title of King didn’t mean much, it was an honorary title, the Priests were the ones whom truly held the power.

Niro attempted to circumvent their laws and rules - he had a child. More importantly a daughter - a Princess. The teenage girl held more power than him, Princesses ruled this world, and the Princesses were ruled by a Queen. But one thing at a time. Through Amanda he managed to control certain things, but not the entire chessboard. Of course one of the things he was unable to control was the participation, attendance, timing and frequency of Council Meetings. And so he was trapped, punished for being a leader of his people.

Niro immediately knew it was going to be a bad day, he didn’t believe in a higher power, but he had that feeling, that the world was against him. Started with the knot in his neck when he woke up, then being called to attend a morning meeting, which took half an hour longer than usual. Something about a red streak flashing across the night sky a few weeks back. Apparently it was an omen of bad things to come. The worship ceremonies and the communities which indulged in them were becoming more and more unnerved and panicky. Spouting messages of the end times. Niro used all the strength in his mind and soul not to reply, ‘So want’s new?’ in the most sarcastic way possible.

He plastered on a fake smile, the best one he had, and powered through the encounter. Not giving a thought to the rambling old scorpions. Eventually after what felt like an eternity, the suffering ended. He practically power-walked out of the room, making as much distance between the robed men as possible. Once he made it past the first turn of the hallway he gave out a relieved sigh. Out of the blast zone.

Another day, another day he walked out past the town square monument of Queen Angella of BrightMoon, he despised that statue. He often just scowled at it from afar from his balcony. There she was, every day, at the centre, at the heart of HIS kingdom. The Immortal Angel. She had no place here, she and her people in no way contributed to Scorpion Hill. When his mother begged on her knees for the Queen to aid them, nothing came. Hillians were always on their own, never received help from foreign powers, never needed it - but that was just Niro’s pride talking. The kingdom did need help. The supplies of water were running low, as were building materials. The kingdom shrank with each year. Without proper financial support in the desert’s drastic conditions, towns and villages couldn’t have been repaired. Sandstorms, sink holes... raids. The land faced many issues, all of which Niro felt helpless and powerless to stop or improve.

And so settlements were abandoned. People decided to migrate closer inward to the heart of the Scorpion Hill Kingdom. Which stood as Angella. That wasn’t right. The runestone was meant to represent the kingdom’s beating heart, the castle that surrounded it and the hill on which it was built apon.

Another day poverty and homelessness were running rampant, increasing to new heights. Niro needed a blessing. Or a distraction from the morbid topic. Luckily he got one, in the form of his daughter who snuck up on him from behind. Gave him quite a fright. He railed back, placing a claw on his chest making sure his heart didn’t leap out of his ribcage. Anger didn’t surface even for a moment, he burst out laughing even before Amanda did. The two shared a moment of mirth, just for a few seconds the world lit up, and it wasn’t too bad. Amanda gave him a knowing look and Niro rolled his eyes, he knew what it meant. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be too bad of a day.

His daughter practically dragged him to her fitting room to show off her new line of clothing. He agreed to be her model. What could he say, the kid had a talent, and they didn’t spend enough time together, some perfect moment for father daughter bonding. ‘Anda had plenty on her plate as a Princess, her duties as a royal, as a leader of a nation came first, but the girl had other aspirations and dreams. Well, she was more of a woman now, but Niro couldn’t quite lit his little baby go yet. Little girl, it was.

Niro admitted that he wasn’t a big dress fan, but when he tried them on, honestly, not too bad. ‘Anda was going to change the world, he knew that, he saw it in her eyes. That same spark that burned in his own eyes, but it was freer, she could do things he never could. She could fight back in ways he couldn’t. She was stronger than him.

“I don’t know, ‘Anda.” Niro looked over his back and then at the bare thigh exposed by the side slit in the dress, “I don’t think it fits me. I think I’ll just wear my armour to the Princess Prom. Same as always.” His daughter emerged from her closet, traversing the hilly terrain of cloths she threw around. Clutching her arms she held yet another dress, she claimed with confidence that this one was THE one. Niro reminded her she said that the first twenty times. But she assured him that it was perfect now. The King gave way, he could never win arguments with her, he couldn’t say no to that face.

Somewhere around the fourth following dress, the two heard a knock on the door frame, which caught their attention. Their heads swung around to see an overseeing figure at the door. How did she open the door without him noticing? How long was she been standing there?! Her face guard was covering it up with dark cloth, but he could practically see her grinning. He felt demeaned, a King found in a dress, the embarrassment was unbearable.

“Can I help you Force-Captain?” Niro asked not keeping eye contact. He retreated back into the small changing cubical and slide the curtain close after him.

Opal found it quite amusing. She gave a slight nod to the Princess, Amanda returned with a small wave. This didn’t seem like the right situation to indulge in a friendly conversation, so Opal just spoke directly to the King himself, “Your majesty, there is a matter that requires your attention.”

“Can’t it wait?” The disembodied voice from beyond the curtain asked with as much frustration as it could’ve mustered. The noise of zippers and fabric folding could have been heard from behind, alongside a few bumps and clanks along the way. Opal was never going to let him live this down.

“I could take care of it.” Amanda stated pointing her thumbs back at herself, in a jokey manner, “Available Princess waiting on stand by.” She said as she wiggled her shoulders.

“Thanks, Amanda, but this one needs your father. Top-top-secret-classified-stuff. When you get the throne, you’ll be drowning in these fun little puzzles too. Enjoy your youth.” Opal stated as she waved the file in her hand.

The curtain pulled back and Niro marched out. He gave Amanda a light playful noogie, ruffing up her black straightened hair as he passed her. “See you at dinner pumpkin!” He said his farewell and marched past Opal dismissively. The Force-Captain rolled her eyes and marched forward alongside the King. She passed him the yellow file folder without a word. Niro of course took it, opened it and began to look through it.

“You’re not mad are you?” Opal raised her eyebrow at her King, her voice trembling with the vibration of laughter coming up through her vocal cords. She found the circumstance hilarious in a way. Niro remained silent, trying to focus on the sheets of paper of information and their tiny ink squiggles. But he couldn’t quite. He wasn’t mad. Why would he be mad? He was happy for Amanda, he wasn’t over-bearing or over-protective, he was a cool dad, cool, he was cool. He was happy for them.

“You know, about the whole...” Opal continued to push the matter, forcing Niro’s blood pressure to rise, “My daughter going out with yours. The fact that we could be family soon.” The possibility of that future made a few rubber bands snap inside Niro’s head.

He changed the subject immediately, “What’s this?” He lifted the file up. He flipped a page to reveal a picture paperclipped to the side. The photo framed a distant, dark, jagged object in the middle of the desert. Niro squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen, clearly not a rock or a cliff, ruins of First Ones technology perhaps. Or some kind of outpost for the raiders?

“Armageddon. Well, at least that’s what the Priests are saying.”

Niro scoffed and rolled his eyes, passing the file back over to Opal completely disinterested, “I told you I don’t care about their moronic superstition. I haven’t seen my daughter in days, because of this work schedule and you interrupted me for THIS? Ramblings of old mad men? What el-”

“Niro.” She interrupted, “This thing crash landed there.” The scorpion King stopped in his tracks. Machinery that could actually fly? Astonishing. But the astonishment didn’t last long, his mind began to race and consider worst case scenarios. What if one of their enemies have discovered the gift of flight. Was this a test run? And so close to them, in Hillian territory? Absolute dread washed over the King, all he could think to ask himself was: Did this mean war was coming? Did BrightMoon or Dryl or Salineas finally snap, did they finally get fed-up with Niro’s insults and unattendance? This was bad. Very bad. He turned to Opal wearing his worried face, she saw it and read. “Whatever that thing is, it doesn’t bare any insignias of any known Kingdoms.” The cogs turned again, that was good, that meant no imminent war while Scorpion Hill is disorganised. But, also bad news, an unknown threat.

“Is it First Ones?”

“We don’t know. It’s too far out.”

“What do you mean TOO far out?! Assemble a detachment and survey the area! I don’t understand w-”

“Niro, we DID sent a detachment in... the thing is they DIDN’T come back.”

The King of Scorpion Hill fell silent. An unknown opponent had just entered the game, right under his nose, no less. This couldn’t mean anything good. A full detachment, at least dozen missing. Maybe dead, since no ransom demands were made. Everyday he felt his Kingdom crumble beneath his feet, control slipping from his grasp, all his life he felt so weak, like he had nothing to contribute to his Kingdom, to his people. Another day, another failure.

But not this time, today was a day for change. Niro turned to Opal and barked an order, “Prepare my horse. I am leaving to investigate this at once.”

“But-”

“Did I not make myself clear?”

“No, you did. Right away, sir.” Opal, slightly shook by the power of the response, saluted the King and made her way swiftly to the royal stable to ready a steed for the mission.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another day, another awful, exhausting, miserable day on this worthless backwater planet. HTK218-666 swiped the coolant dripping from his forehead, he was perspiring too much, because of the damn heat. The environment on this planet was unbearable. And worse than the heat itself was the lack of logical explanation for the heat. This system had NO SUN! How life was sustained 218 did not know. Nothing on this planet had sense. He hated it.

#hordak #horde prime #horde clones #king niro #horo #nidak #scorpia's grandfather

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simnels · 4 years

Text

Sims 4 Awesimsauce

Some of you may remember the Awesimsauce challenge. It originated with the sims 2. I believe @katwhispurrer and @engramplays were some of the origininators.

The Sims 3 version was adapted by me. So it felt like maybe I should adapt the sims 4 version as well. Huge thanks to Kasia and @gerbits

Here is the working model right now. If you have any suggestions please let me know!

Basic Rules

Standard legacy rules apply.

Like the original legacy, no cheats are allowed.

Limit of 2 children per generation. No trying to force twins or triplets.

Your heir must have a wedding party.

Sim’s last name must be related to the rainbow/color in some way (it can be as random and obscure as you would like).

Sim’s first name must be somehow related to the color assigned to that generation.

Each generation is based on a different color and the color must be present and obvious in some way (make-up, dress, hair color, house décor, etc.)

Each generation has a specific challenge(s) based on the color of that generation. When playing that generation please make sure you meet all parts of the challenge (when possible)!

Generation Challenges

Generation One

Color: Blue

Challenge: Depth and Stability

What is a building without a good foundation? Generation One is tasked with building a lasting foundation for all future generations. Specifically a house (with or without a foundation).

This generation HAS to have one of the traditional jobs. This can be an active job like doctor or scientist (Get To Work) but can not be Freelancer or Part Time! I’m also going to say no to vlogging. If you want your sim to be a musician they must follow the Entertainer career track.

By the time this generation hits elder they should have a ‘complete’ house. This means at least 2 bedrooms, a bathroom, living room, dining room and kitchen (a large eat in kitchen is also fine).

For an added challenge why not tack on the Renovation Challenge by @simbeeps (might need to modify it slightly because of the job, but still fun!).

Also your founder must have either a family oriented or wealth oriented lifetime goal (to start, once they complete it, go do you).

Generation Two

Color: Orange

Challenge: Creativity

Orange is a bright and happy color. It is full of energy and can even convince the laziest person to get off their butt. It is even known to incite creativeness in even the most “un-creative people”. Thus for the orange generation it is all about creativity.

Money may only be made by novels/painting/music/woodworking or by the freelance career

This time they CAN be a vlogger if you want.

Must be at level 10 for one instrument. DJ can count towards this as well.

If you’re into it this would be a cool generation to open a gallery/restaurant.

Generation Three

Color: Charcoal

Challenge: Activity

Charcoal is the color of strength! This generation your sim wants to get SWOLE. Let’s hit the mats or something sporty like that.

OPTION 1: (Base Game Compatible)

To make money you have a choice between Athlete, Secret Agent, or Astronaut career path.

Your heir must have level 10 fitness skill. Also a level 10 wellness skill (spa day required).

Your heir must complete the body builder lifetime goal.

OPTION 2: (Strangerville Required.)

If you’re not into the whole athlete thing complete the Strangerville storyline! Saving a city is a def show of strength!

Or if you’re not civically inclined, pursue the Military career (don’t need to live in Strangerville but if you do, you could solve the mystery AND complete the Military career for double the fun!)

Generation 4

Color: Green

Challenge: Money, Money, Money

Green is the color of money, and this generation your sims are all about those sweet simoleons. It’s time to make sure this family has cash in the bank! It is in honor of the founder that we work hard (or hardly work? If you’re making bank, who cares!)

Reach Top of 2 Career Tracks. Business, Criminal or Tech are some really good themed options!

Must have ‘materialistic’ trait.

Klepto and Snob traits are also fun options.

Must have at least 100k in the bank by the time they reach elder.

For this I’m going to say it’s on top of what you already have. So when they become YA if they’ve got 60k in the bank then they need 160k when they become elder. This is 100k of their own making.

Definitely must complete one of the wealth aspirations now if you didn’t in gen 1.

Must also own another lot. It could be a business from previous gens, or you could just build and buy a park. I don’t care, man, just DIVERSIFY.

Generation Five

Color: Purple

Challenge: Royalty

In many cultures purple represents a position of royalty. In this generation your sims will be treated like royalty and have their needs met as though they were a king or queen. The dark days are over, now it’s time to sit back and enjoy life.

Good thing the previous gen worked so hard, because this generation can NOT make any money themselves.

Must fulfill at least one whim per day for each sim

Heir must not be forced to do any “chores” (washing, taking out the trash, scrubbing toilets). Those activities are meant for lesser sims.

If you have Parenthood Stuff, try and get your sim to have some negative personality traits like low self control.

Royal Sim parents only do the fun stuff with their children! I’m going to allow for toddler traits since most are done as play. I’ll leave potty training up to you. No learning boring things like saying please and thank you though!

Purple sims only play with their kids. If you want the next gen to learn to be they’ll have to do it on their own or from some other family members.

Must have a butler and nanny.

Generation Six

Color: Brown

Challenge: Down to Earth

Disgusted with the ways of the previous generation you have decided to return to the earth! This generation is looking for a simpler way of life that doesn’t come with all the opulence and waste of the previous generations.

OPTION 1: BGC

Only make money from harvest/dug up/foraged/fished items. You can sell them from inventory or set up a stall at the market.

If you have seasons you can also make money from Flower Arranging.

Must have full gardening skill as well as herbalism (outdoor retreat required)

Must complete one of the nature aspirations.

Must grow at least 1 of every kind of plant. This includes plants from other worlds depending on the EPs you have.

Gotta have that ‘Loves The Outdoors’ trait!

OPTION 2: Sulani (Island Living required)

Join the conservationist career track.

Still have to have the ‘loves the outdoors’ trait.

Clean up Sulani! That means get the island to level 3.

Generation Seven

Color: Yellow

Challenge: The Pursuit of Hope

Yellow can symbolize hope. What better way to represent that than the hope of setting out learning everything you can in the world. This generation is concentrated on their intellect.

Pick one of those knowledge based aspirations!

Yellow generation is all about helping others, so make sure they are reading to their kids, helping with homework and school projects.

It could be fun if this was the first generation to attend college, but that’s really up to you!

Must hit level 10 in logic, handiness, programming, and rocket science.

Also Archaeology if you have Jungle Adventure

Parenting if you have Parenthood

If you have Jungle Adventure and your heir fancies themselves as an Indiana Jones type of scholar why not complete the temple.

If you’re going this route make sure to get ALL the relics.

What use is being smart if you can’t show off? Build a seperate room in your home to act as a library. Display items you got from adventuring or just a lot of books.

Generation Eight

Color: Red

Challenge: Fiery Passion

It is no secret that red is the color of passion, of love and of explosive things. Those who love red are often extremely ambitious, but slightly reckless. This generation is all about living with heat and flying by the seat of your pants!

Must have either the Hot Headed or Jealous trait.

Siblings shouldn’t get along, big personalities often clash.

Must use either the rude or flirty introductions when meeting new people.

5 Lovers simultaneous lovers (Who don’t know about each other)

Must Woohoo in each kind of public location

At least one enemy! (or ten!)

Any money making path is available for this gen, things like secret agent, criminal, or law could be fun and on theme but aren’t required.

Generation Nine

Color: Pink

Challenge: The Glamour Life!

Only the most glamorous sims can wear pink! This generation is all about living the high life. If you’re the most glamorous sim in town then everyone should know your name.

Top Celebrity Status (Get Famous required)

Reach the top of the Entertainer or Fashion Stylist career (base game)

Acting (Get Famous)

Fashion photographer (Moschino)

Glamorous sims are the height of fashion! The heir will change outfits every other day.

This is generation nine, by now you should be living in the biggest house in town. Make sure you’ve got your mansion going!

Generation Ten

Color: White

Challenge: A Return to the Basics

It’s been ten generations since you started and now it’s time to return. Return to tradition and building a foundation for the next set of sims. Go back at complete generation 1’s challenges all over. You earned it.

NOTES:

These rules were adapted from the Sims 3 rules written by me which were adapted from the Sims 2 rules.

Credit to Engram and Gerbits

This is your game, if you don’t like some parts of a generation don’t do it. The legacy police aren’t going to come after you.

Want an extra challenge? Why not toss one of these for a sim week to spice things up.

IF you have any questions shoot me an ask and I’ll do my best to answer it

If you decide to do this please tag with awesimsauce so I can see it!

#sims 4 #awesimsauce #TS4 #sims 4 challenge

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