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luchicm04 · 24 days

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lost in the forest - part 32

Masterlist

Summary: Who would have thought a simple, 30 year old girl would have the most powerful men at the time in her debt.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character

Tag: #lost in the forest fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 3.8k

That's all I've posted on Ao3 so far. From now on, updates will be posted all at once, so you will probably will have to wait a few days or weeks for me to continue to carry on the story.

Overall warnings: canon-typical violence, adult content, time skips, angst

It is a beautiful summer day. Her heart is light as the preparations are evident in light decorations. It is not the only engagement celebrated in the same month, but it is the most important one.

She feels nervous when taking a bath. Karen sometimes thinks it’s unreal as she walks through the hallways of that house.

She wants to see the optimism. There have been days of slight depression due to the weight of the true meaning of this, a phase that she should have planned with her family and in her style... An old dream that was taken from her hands and transformed by circumstances beyond her control.

Adapting it to the culture of this reality... “Karen-san... do not look so sad.” Someone catches her attention just as she enters the room. Mito has been a regular visitor who has begun to notice certain patterns in her behavior.

Creepy... but she has to assume that it is normal for a kunoichi of her caliber. She knows that her fame precedes her and even if she is a princess, she is just as infamous as Madara or Hashirama.

“I... am I?” she frowns with her heart clenched. She tries to smile but judging by the eyes of her partner, it’s easy not to believe it. “I just... I’ll be fine.”

“Karen-san, it is your engagement...” the redhead sighs, getting up from her bed to show that the yukata and every decoration has already been prepared. Her room is adjusted to these changes and the preparations that will be carried out. “Did you really want to get married?”

“Uh...” She blinks remembering what Hashirama warned her. She smiles, taking the hand of the restless kunoichi who surely is already beginning to suspect something, and shakes her head. “It’s not that, I just... wish my family would be here.”

“Why did you not send a letter?” the young woman asks curiously.

“It’s not as easy as sending a letter to contact them...” she accepts with a bleeding heart. Saying it out loud is so difficult... that she prefers to keep it to herself.

“Oh...”

“My father always told me that he hoped I would find my... partner,” she says, remembering the uncomfortable conversations with her father who was so convinced that she could still, if she decided, get married. Being the eldest, they had high expectations of that kind. “They would like to participate in this.”

“I am sorry to hear that. To impersonate your mother or sister... I would never do it.”

“I’m sure neither would mind,” she mocks, remembering both people with affection. The latter wasn’t the most organized considering her entertainment tastes, but that wasn’t the point now, right? She looks at Mito. “So don’t worry. Besides, you’re nervous to, aren’t you...?”

“Well, yes,” she blushes. “Hashirama has talked with me regarding... the room we will use in the main complex.”

“I see. At least he lets you participate. Tobirama always ignores me,” she rolls her eyes remembering that this house will be part of her legacy in this reality. Every stroke, every distribution and detail were instructed by the albino without consulting her. In addition to garden things she loves to see from the backyard.

They may be on the grounds of the main complex, but they are still independent.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. He is a bit... obsessive,” she mockes, remembering how detailed he is with regard to her tastes. She doesn’t know how, but he has managed to make use of them without even asking her directly, like her office in the back, the three rooms that have been prepared, the kitchen, the hall... everything is spacious in its own way.

It is surprising that even now she is discovering.

And refining.

“I imagine,” the redhead laughs amused.

“Karen-san?” Mikami asks as she enters to look at her. “You have not put on your underdress yet,” she complains about her when she notices her talking to the redhead, looking between them with slight scolding.

“Sorry, we got distracted.” Karen was sincere with a soft laugh towards the girl who has carried most of her things in this process, along with Kaori and now Mito. She has been extra help for the infamous fiancé.

“It shows,” the newcomer says. “The Daimyo has arrived,” she informs so casually.

“Uh...”

“My... that man is really shameless.” Mito looks upset. Without telling her the whole story, she knows what the man’s interest in personally seeing her event is about. One thing she is sure she doesn’t know if she will do for Hashirama and Madara.

And whose rumors have already arisen in both compounds.

Annoying.

“He is an opportunist,” Mikami huffs to look at her with a pout. “But that is not the point now. You have to prepare!”

“There are still some hours left, right?”

“Valuable time to get you ready,” her friend complains looking at Mito, who is taking out various items from a huge scroll. Makeup, combs, decorations... every irritating thing possible to wear that she simply allows to be placed.

She is not in the mood for this and even if she must pretend, she can rest for now.

The day will be long. Karen is sure of it.

──

She once thought that all this was strange, hostile and external to her daily life. A city girl who fell after a vacation, so far from her home that it is unreal... another world, another nation with abilities that she never imagined and has not gotten used to them.

She is at the mercy of all of them... but thanks to whoever is having fun with her destiny, she has been thrown into a less bad place.

Of course, she will get married against her will. The person who has taken that job is not the most pleasant, but she knows there are worse things, remembering what cruel fate she was about to be sent to when she thought she was free the first time.

Women are bargaining chips, something that Karen did not expect would be applied to her, but now it is... walking slowly towards where the fiancé waits among elegant decorations that enhance the beauty of the enormous patio decorated by nature, flowers and scattered seats under the forum where the person in charge waits to present their engagement.

Formalizing it.

Tobirama looks striking in a matching yukata with a solemn posotion that she almost envies, there observing her closely with those red eyes that she was once afraid of. He is not hostile, he looks serene and very strange from her point of view, considering how bitter he usually is.

There is silence. Many people are observing the process where the view and expectations are set as the event follows its own rhythm. Each word delivered, promises and gifts are notorious between both in this exchange.

Without a family, the dowry is given by Hashirama himself, who has taken it as his duty to throw her into the engagement. She sees the Daimyo in the background, attentive to her every word according to the agenda, while the vows are delivered with incense beginning to flood her nostrils.

She coughs a little, still not used to the smell.

“Are you alright?” Tobirama questions. She can’t deny that up close he looks elegant and... strangely handsome. It amuses her because of her crazy thoughts. He is a rather serious young man with those eyes that annoyingly don’t leave her.

“Yes... I just inhaled a little bit of the smell,” she comments in English without drawing attention of the others, while the person in charge of such a presentation begins the final step.

She squeezes her yukata. It feels unreal and she wants to cry but holds it in when she feels the warmth of someone holding her hand. She is surprised, but subtly accepts the moral support that Tobirama shows her.

She supposes it is difficult to hide everything she has carried, but she endures with honor until the end. She listens to the applause of those present at an event that is so non-private due to the political weight it holds.

This is the second most important after Hashirama’s engagement.

And the wedding... she will face that later.

The shinobi next to her helps her get up in silence while everyone looks happy. “Uh...” she doesn’t avoid saying when she feels the rough hand of whom is her official fiancé wipe something from her cheek.

“Do not look so sad,” he states with his sullen tone but with some warmth that makes her blink realizing what is happening, embarrassed to feel that it was a tear that was running down the outline of her dolled up face.

She didn’t know it was starting to drip.

“I’m sorry, I just...” Karen sighs trying to control her feelings. Tobirama takes her face lightly, with his fingers still cleaning what she’s preventing from coming out.

“...” The shinobi is not the best at consoling, and she sees the discomfort along with other things reflected in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine...” She takes a deep breath to smile uncomfortable with such attention. “Maybe... I just needed time.”

“What a great joy it is to see that you are so happy, Saucedo-san,” the Daimyo interrupts with a soft and suspicious smile between the two.

“Yes... I’m very happy,” she clarifies before her tears are misinterpreted depending on the perspective in which they are placed. She takes the hand of the person who is like a statue next to her, wanting to erase everything she feels in order to pretend a little more. “I am very glad you came,” she bows gently.

“Not at all. Today, you are the star, so leave the formalities behind,” the infamous leader of these lands says. “It is a shame that I could not have you in my harem... you would have been interesting.”

“Sir...” Tobirama is not insolent, but he does interrupt before this turns into a one-sided flirtation, shameless and ignoring the fiancé who raises his eyebrow. “Welcome to our home.”

“Oh, of course,” he dismisses gently. “I brought some presents. I hope you do not mind,” he impertinently adds, handing over a series of boxes that are placed in the front.

There are many watching, others whispering for such attention.

“We appreciate the gesture,” Tobirama throws his own comment by squeezing her hand lightly, taking care of this part as best as he can.

So elegant and diplomatic, it’s confusing.

“Good. It is saddening that I cannot stay for the celebration,” Shinji admits with a wink in her direction. “If you ever go to the capital, do not hesitate to visit me. You will always be welcome. Especially you, Saucedo-san... your talks are entertaining.”

“Thank you,” the girl accepts with restlessness to see the man leave as if nothing had happened.

“...” Tobirama doesn’t stop looking at her while more people come to congratulate the couple. Each hug is notorious between words of encouragement and how she managed to catch someone so cold in a not-so-subtle way.

More from the women who have been watching their steps.

She sighs, pretending and keeping up with the rhythm for a long time.

The discomfort and sadness did not go away the entire time... rather, they were increased by fatigue.

──

The first dance is important. She tries not to step on the feet of the person maintaining most of the rhythm with agility and training. Tobirama has shown to have many skills and corrects her mistakes with subtlety.

“...” Karen does not avoid smiling ironically despite her heavy heart.

Tobirama doesn’t say anything but has remained steadfast in his closeness.

“Try not to step on me,” the infamous shinobi complains to the applause of those who watch the couple.

Each step, each raising of the sake is firm for the good wishes of those who hold her hands in a supposed happiness that she still does not fully feel.

“I don’t promise anything,” she comments because she only went over this part a few times with Mikami. Perhaps she should have paid more attention so as to stop getting embarrassed in the future.

Hashirama is in the background with Mito, whispering things between them that she can see from her point of view. At least Madara didn’t come. Otherwise, it would be more disgraceful as the man is so direct and tactless that he surely wouldn’t be subtle.

The idiot is ungrateful.

“Pay attention.”

“I am,” she sighs at her partner’s scolding.

“It does not seem like it.”

“I’m sorry, I just...” she huffs because the dignified step with these shows is not comfortable. “Be nicer.”

“...” The shinobi frowns but ignores her. There is a spin at the end to finish with a light squeeze to her waist, which makes her uncomfortable due to such an approach.

More so since she cleaned her face a while ago... it’s weird.

“Tobirama?”

“We have to eat,” he orders dryly to carry her to the place where dinner will soon be presented. She wants to say a lot but ends up smiling by force of habit.

Not because she’s sorry, but because it’s what they expect of her.

So, she sits obediently, willing to ignore who is next to her.

For now, she just maintains the façade...

──

The food is traditional, prepared by familiar hands who made an effort to make it worthy of the engagement. Karen feels her feet sore from the typical shoes of the beautiful yukata she owns, sitting in an elegant position and with a pair of chopsticks, she takes light bites with the feeling of her hungry stomach. At least that didn’t disappear by the anxiety of this day.

Tobirama is at her side as serious and firm as a bitter old gargoyle who hasn’t taken his eyes off her form since they sat down after such a disturbing dance. And she doesn’t know if it’s worry or something else.

“You know you can tell me anything you want, right?” she says, still sitting in the middle of the event while many begin to go with their own routine in this type of tradition.

A dance with almost oriental music that makes her curious, because she knows it is not. But she lets it be, because this event was expected by many. A moment of relaxation away from the adaptation of the new compound or the stress of the neighboring clan.

“...” The albino raises his eyebrow at her comment. He hasn’t tried his food and that’s curious.

“We are engaged, aren’t we? Communication is important.”

“...I have seen it for a while,” he assures with a controlled and flat tone, typical of the ice floe that he usually is and today it is not surprising.

“...?”

“Marrying is that bad... is it not?”

Karen sighs, looking at her plate again. “It’s not that. It’s something that we both came to accept, right?”

“I told you about my seasons before.”

“Then why do you want to clarify it today?” she blinks because they had many days to go over everything, something that he himself has taken the lead in organizing.

“Your tears...”

She blushes slightly due to the shame of showing that face to the young man. “I’m sorry about that, it wasn’t my intention,” she says because at least the Daimyo interpreted it as happiness.

He looks at the people around with a serious face, ignoring her comment to cross her arms dignified. “I told you, I will not do anything you do not want. This is... you know what it is.”

“Yes, but you know... even if it’s just... a façade,” she changes the language to English to make it easier to hide her intentions. Karen looks at the man directly. Even if it’s not the place, she feels she should clarify it. “I remembered my family... they would have liked to participate in this.”

“Even if it is just a lie?”

“Even if it is,” she accepts distantly. “My sister... she used to tell me what her wedding would be like when she got married. My parents were anxious for me to find a partner... but a long time passed, years without me focusing on it.”

“...”

“They would be happy for me... and even if it’s not what I dreamed of, it’s something I didn’t imagine I would do,” she laughs a little at the irony. Her plans were never this and now saying it clearly to whom listen attentively, it is confusing and makes her feel stupid. “I’m sorry to tell you this, I know you may not understand.”

“You underestimate me.”

“I don’t, I just... it’s a thing of my culture,” she explains looking at the happy people.

“Hashirama told me a little about... your thoughts.”

“Mph...” she mocks because she has talked more with his older brother than with him regarding this.

“And I know that we both had different ideas.”

“Very different.”

“I am a shinobi. I do not make promises,” Tobirama clarifies looking directly at her, capturing her attention with a hard and clear gesture. “But... you will not be unhappy.”

Karen wants to make fun of this, because he was not the first to make her life difficult at this point. “You have changed.”

“...”

“And do you ensure that... even if I’m a civilian?”

“Even if you are,” Tobirama accepts. “I assure you.”

“Well...” She just sighs, taking another bite of her abandoned food. “Believe it or not, I don’t know what to say about it,” she states with a chuckle. “But I appreciate the intention of lifting my spirits... in your sullen way.”

“Idiot.”

“Ohh... come on, don’t be a jerk,” the girl mocks with a knowing smile to whom rolls his eyes. Her sadness might not be completely erased, nor her upset feelings about this whole topic, but the words spoken in his tone way have comforted her in a way.

She looks at that night’s stars that are starting to appear. The engagement doesn’t look so bad now that it’s done.

Formally, she will soon be part of the Senju.

And she is still not convinced about being called by this last name.

──

Madara arrived almost after a few hours. She notices how everyone remains silent as he makes his way into that beautiful venue where the engagement was arranged. There are people who look with different degrees of contained irritation that they do not hide.

However, the infamous Uchiha does it on purpose, ignoring them until he reaches the spot where the engaged are present.

One of the few who knows the reality of this commitment.

“Wow... you don’t look that bad,” he mocks with unsubtle, sarcastic touches.

“Madara,” Tobirama frowns next to her. Despite the daily dealings and bureaucratic matters as a group, there is still slight hostility.

“Madara!” Hashirama laughs from his place, appearing to interrupt anything they could say. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“We are allies, idiot,” the infamous Uchiha leader growls with a silent Izuna behind him. He rolls his eyes at such an interpretation of the facts while many feel offended by that form of address to their leader.

“Don’t be mean.” The leader becomes noticeably depressed, making her laugh a little because of the typical nature of their relationship.

“Madara-san, I’m glad you came,” Karen says with an amused blink.

“I couldn’t help but take a look at this,” the infamous leader shrugs to throw something in the direction of the woman, caught by her fiancé with agility. “It was for her.”

“She does not have our reaction time, idiot,” Tobirama comments while his brother laughs openly.

Karen wonders if it is too rude to leave to eat another place of food. She is hungry and notices that many people are unwilling to enter this intense social circle.

“Wow... engagement has made you soft, Senju,” Izuna adds mockingly.

“Shut up, Izuna.”

“Guys,” Karen interrupts before this moment becomes intense. She tries to take the scroll from the hands of the shinobi who only arches his eyebrow into place.

“It’s a gift for her,” Madara crosses his arms intimidatingly as always. “In case this idiot does something to you.”

“Madara!”

“You know she is a civilian. And even if there is...”

“Madara, don’t say it,” Hashirama scolds.

“I know,” the man with wild hair rolls his eyes. “If you need something, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s not my business but you have done a lot of work for my clan. You are useful even though you are a civilian... so, I owe you.”

“Thank you,” Karen laughs, feeling silly about this attention.

“There is no need,” Tobirama complains, and then looks at his brother who gives him a harsh gesture. Reluctantly, he hands the scroll to the woman next to him. “I hope you do not use it.”

Karen feels awkward, but she takes it. It’s like a written promise that she doesn’t understand. Maybe she should ask Mito about it.

“I’m hungry,” Madara cuts this strange atmosphere hard and arches his eyebrow at Hashirama, who laughs amused by such a change, offering a space at his table not far from them.

Karen takes another look at the scroll.

“They will support if the Senju clan does not,” Tobirama explains with a firm tone. “It is a promise, a written deal from the Uchiha clan... if it becomes necessary for you to seek shelter and protection.”

“Oh...” she blinks due to the weight of this gift. “Can that be done?”

“An extra protection from anything you do not want,” the man accepts, watching the only two Uchiha talk at Hashirama’s table.

“He’s not that bad.”

“I know,” the man bends his mouth, not liking what this treaty really means. Karen doesn’t take much notice of it but keeps this just in case.

It’s not that she believes the man is capable of doing something that harms her, and just the intention hurts the morale of whom is by her side. “Don’t worry. I don’t think I will need it.” She decides it’s better to say that before the man imagines things in his head.

“...”

“You can be annoying, serious and bitter, but I know that your words are not empty,” she easily shrugs.

“It was not necessary for you to say all of the above... you know that, right?”

“For me, it was,” she laughs a little more, mocking the attitude of her fiancé, who snorts words under his breath that are difficult to hear, which makes her raise her eyebrow.

At least until Mito and Mikami decided to take her. Because they had to close the event and as a future bride, she had to start her own work, and what better way than having a meeting between girls.

The closest ones... giving way to this new stage of her life with various feelings that she has begun to work to overcome. It was not as bad as she had imagined.

She somewhat trusts the words of the Senjus.

Karen wants to believe, clinging to their non-promise.

A/N: As you can see, her engagement is now official and like any adult over 30 years old, Karen tends to be apprehensive and somewhat clinging to her feelings along with her worries, increased by the nostalgia of these days that has accumulated exploding on that day.

It wasn’t her dream... but there she is, somewhat faking her position. At least Tobirama has assured her in a way things that she didn’t know she wanted to hear. Even without understanding it much, I help him.

What will happen now? Have the other clans already started to join? It’s one step at a time and like in real life, things will just fall into place.

Thank you for your comments.

Author-chan out!

#lost in the forest fic #warring states period #angst #senju tobirama #tobirama x reader #tobirama x oc #ocs #hashirama senju #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #uchiha madara #uchiha izuna

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starryrps · 2 years

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🚌 and 🥀 for astraea, marie, val, and sybil please!

🚌 - what haunts your muse? is there any event in your muse’s past that they can’t move past?

astraea is haunted by her childhood, and can't really move past that. the memories with her principal and her father just really formed who she is; and also she never got apologies from them, so she's really holding on to that.

marie is rarely someone who lives in regrets, however her pregnancy scare is something that shaped who she is and how she approaches intimacy with other people, so I would have to say that.

val can't really move past failing the matron the first time around, and she's terrified of what's going to happen this time if she fails. (she's also terrified of what happens if she's successful — like if she succeeds at beating the giants at their own game, then what happens to her? will she remain on this plane or be sucked back into the shadowfell? who knows! not her! and that scares her!)

sybil's heartbreak at the cause of their patron is something they can't quite get past, I would think. it motivated them to leave the feywild in the first place and pursue planar magics, so i think that would be the catalyst for the rest of their life, that they can't really move past because it put them on the path they're currently on.

🥀 - what are your muse’s standards for a romantic partner? are they realistic? why do they have these standards?

astraea prefers a woman who can keep her grounded and accept her as she is, which is (prior to rafa) not something that she had ever really thought would exist for her. i think she has these standards because she was never really accepted by her family nor by society at large when she was growing up, so it makes sense that she would try to treat that wound with seeking it out in adult relationships.

marie wasn't looking for anyone to be her romantic partner until james entered her life and then suddenly there was another person who mattered to her. a golden retriever gamer boy, perhaps, but still - someone who mattered to her. i think she wanted to remain by herself as a protective measure - and after seeing her parents love story, she wasn't sure there was really anything that could compare to that. but now she has james and everything's perfect.

val is demi which heavily influences those she can think about in a romantic context. for her, romance and sex are inseparable, and she can't picture romantic notions without sexual ones following or preceding. with that being said she enjoys someone who is competent in their chosen field, challenges her to be better, and is there to help her when she's feeling down, whether it be quiet contemplation or raucous laughter. she's got these standards from looking at marriage a thousand years ago and thinking that's what it has to be like nowadays too - and instead, she's found herself as far from conventional as she can.

sybil's romantic needs are varied, and it depends on the person that they're finding romantic notions with. with their patron, there was always a degree of worship that isn't going to be present in mortal relationships. i think they want someone they can dote on and take care of, while also keeping them in their place, iykwim 😌

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 years

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Hiii Lena how are you? Okay now I have a FEW bebé-adjacent questions. Fist off: Anything you can tell us about Arainia and Blade’s kiddo?? I’m so soft for the thought of babies born into the Shepherds 🥺🥺(or just soft for beebies in general) Also is there like,,,any precedent set for pregnant Shepherds? Paid family leave 😅? I’m assuming they’d have to be upfront to their superior about it if they choose to carry to term and are probably put on desk duty? What about the other parent, assuming it’s a Shepherd-Are they like,,able to request assignments close by/shorter assignments later in the pregnancy? (for example I’m guessing all ROs would be pretty adamant about sticking nearby) In the original novels, were there separate setups in the compound for married shepherds/ ones with kids ? This is a LOT lololol 🙈

Hi kingdom, I’m doing great, and I hope you are, too! And yes, I’m all for bebé questions!!!

Anything you can tell us about Arainia and Blade’s kiddo??

Yes, their first child was a boy named Tamwyn, Tam for short! He was the spitting image of his father, but with Arainia’s eyes and Elvish ears, and he was a very serious little baby, peering around at the world with silent gravity befitting a Bronwyn. Arainia was kind of like “...is our baby okay” but it turned out that Uncle Chase and Uncle Trouble could always make him laugh! Thus, they were always on babysitting duty whenever both Arainia and Blade had to go out of town for a mission...

(This isn’t necessarily canon because it was written when I was like 15 maybe, which was before I knew Riel was going to blast off and commit treason and I’m pretty sure it’s an AU where Junoth didn’t die or I hadn’t done it yet RIP)

Anyway, as you can tell, it was a slightly chaotic but very loving infanthood for him! The official books stop when Tam’s about six months old, but I always had plans for him to grow up to become a strong Battle-Mage like his mother. He’d be a quiet, sensible, somewhat sensitive boy who had to dig deep to access his latent power in his youth. As a young adult, he would have been more confident and possibly headstrong--I feel like he would have had an intense teen rebellion phase--and eventually would grow into a powerful leader with a measured way of seeing the world, but still with a strong sense of empathy and emotional intelligence! He would have been very close to his uncles; would have had a teen crush on Kana, Halek and Wintry’s kid, that probably would have faded quickly; and I feel like he would have an academic side and would want to help Uncle Red with his magical research as a kind of intern, which would annoy Blade deeply, though of course he’d never say so!

There was also always the plan for them to have a second kid, a daughter four years younger than Tam named either Lyra or Amaya, who would have been more Ket like her dad and would have had an unusual mix of both arma and a little magic! She would have been more spunky and energetic than her brother and probably would look totally different from the rest of her dark-haired family due to the weird Mage genetics!

Also is there like,,,any precedent set for pregnant Shepherds? Paid family leave 😅? I’m assuming they’d have to be upfront to their superior about it if they choose to carry to term and are probably put on desk duty?

In the books, relationships were very strictly forbidden within the Shepherd’s Order, more so than they are in the game; it was a rule that had been carried out for hundreds of years, since the founding of the Order, so there wasn’t really a precedent set for both parents being Shepherds when one got pregnant! In the old days, you’d most likely be fired if you revealed that you got another Shepherd officer pregnant... 😅

Prior to Blade assuming command, there was paid family leave for a Shepherd officer to take time off and raise their children, but it was always expected that their spouse, partner, or what have you was from outside of the Order. Most were put on desk duty until closer to their due date, but some chose to take time off immediately upon discovering their pregnancy. Lunar Corps division officers (those who took on more urgent, specialized, or dangerous missions) were paid both a base salary as well as extra for most missions, which were graded according to risk. (The higher the grade, the more you’d get paid for taking that mission.) If you got pregnant and planned on having the child, you could take time off pretty much indefinitely and just keep the base salary, with bonuses thrown in if your superior liked you and thought you deserved it, of course. However, it was considered unethical to collect this money if you didn’t actually plan on resuming work with the Order after your baby was around three (though of course you could request to extend leave); so long as you actually came back to work afterwards, this was all legitimate.

However, things got messy once Shepherd couples got into the mix. Could both parties take leave, and for how long? Couples weren’t even allowed until Blade assumed command: he immediately changed the policy so that couples were allowed within the Order, but typically placed on different teams or missions, to avoid distractions during fights or work in the field. (This also applied to him and Arainia, though there were sometimes exceptions that had to be made.) He also allowed both parties paid leave with base salaries, but with the stipulation that one party should return to work after ten months to one year, unless they requested to extend that leave.

Halek and Wintry’s child, Kana, was the first real “Shepherd baby”. Wintry chose to take the paid leave for the first year and a half of Kana’s life; they had also bought a restaurant as a side investment for whenever they retired, so there was income coming from that while Halek continued work as a Shepherd. And they were already on separate teams, so when she returned, it wasn’t that much of an issue!

What about the other parent, assuming it’s a Shepherd-Are they like,,able to request assignments close by/shorter assignments later in the pregnancy? (for example I’m guessing all ROs would be pretty adamant about sticking nearby)

If the Shepherds in question are Lunar Corps agents, it depends on their ranks! Lower-ranked agents were always placed on squads of seven and were assigned 80% of their cases and missions by higher-ups. But there were always missions placed on a roster that were “up for grabs” until a certain date, at which point they would be assigned to whatever team was available at that deadline. 20% of team missions could be one of those free missions, and if you were a higher-ranking agent no longer grouped into a team, you could also take on those missions of your own volition about 50% of the time. In short, you could choose about 50% of your own missions, because there were so many requests and petitions floating around all the time, so a Shepherd parent could just choose the missions that were close to home and pass on the ones that weren’t.

For the missions that they couldn’t choose and were assigned, you could always put in an unofficial request to your superior; they would usually do their best to accommodate you, but there were simply some times where there wasn’t any choice, especially if you had a specialized position that few others could replace. That duty comes with being a Shepherd, and I imagine it would be the same in the game! You can make the request and people will try their hardest to accommodate, but it's not a guarantee and if you can't meet the demands of the job, you'll probably be moved over to Solar Corps, which handles things like local patrols.

In the original novels, were there separate setups in the compound for married shepherds/ ones with kids ?

The Shepherds’ Tower in the books was actually more like a workplace and police precinct, so there were actually no living quarters or dormitories there! It was more like a skyscraper, and Shepherd officers lived in their own personal apartments or occasionally shared houses in Haven. There were some buildings that the Order rented out entirely just for Shepherd officers to live in, but these were few and far between.

In the books, most of the protagonists lived in small apartments in the Market Quarter; Blade and Arainia lived on the same floor of their apartment and the other team members lived close by or even on the same street; there was an ill-fated move where all seven (ten?) of them shared a big house in Whitestone (which in the books wasn’t just for aristocrats, it was just a nicer neighborhood) for like a year for some reason; and then Blade and Arainia lived in a house in the Market Quarter (I even remember their address, 771 Bomba Street) after they got married!

Thanks for your questions, I had fun answering them! 🤗

#Shepherds of Haven #<3 #original novels #original novel #novels #novel #novel MC #marriage #pregnancy #pregnant #worldbuilding #child #parent #Tamwyn #kingdom-dance

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cat-arsenal · 2 years

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Good & Bad Thoughts About Friendship & Moms

Contains: Found family, mentions of illness, mentions of abuse, mentions of mothers, mentions of religion, Me Being Angry and Incoherent

My best friend and I have been best friends for Two Actual Decades. We’re planning an “anniversary” trip to Marfa, Texas, home of spooky desert lights and apparently a lot of other cool stuff you never hear about because spooky desert lights take precedence. They have a big hatchback van and I have a standalone GPS so we don’t have to spend cell data. We’ve been planning this trip most of our lives, and sometime this year, we’re actually going to go (once our cars and health and jobs are in order.)

Their mom sucks.

She’s not a 100% evil horrible malevolent person. (People aren’t simple.) There are times she has meant and done well. But most of the time, she’s been neglectful if not downright abusive, manipulative and irreverent in a Bless Your Heart package.

Their other relatives aren’t much better.

But because of appearances, and because of split-second judgements based on their jobs or their church or their clothes or their business sense, my family didn’t realize for a long time how terrible they are. “But they’re church folk!” “But he’s so smart!” “But she teaches!”

But they subject their children to physical, emotional, religious trauma.

Their children are grown now, mostly out of the house, and some are just now learning to cope with their fucked-up childhoods (and learning to become less fucked-up adults.)

My upbringing wasn’t perfect. I didn’t, and don’t, always get along with my parents. But they never hit me, never misled me, never called me names or sent me to “therapy” that only made me more miserable. And to this day, when I can swallow my pride enough to ask for help, they do everything they can to help me.

My best friend is currently bedridden with a complex infection and a high fever. What began as a seemingly innocuous vocal strain has evolved into multiple emergency visits, stacks of meds, blood and tears and so much pain. When it suddenly worsened, when they couldn’t get out of bed or see straight, their partner was three hours away and I was at work, away from my phone.

So they texted my mother. And my mother dropped what she was doing, packed a bag with medicine and Gatorade, and drove to my best friend’s house, stopping on the way to pick up their favorite fast food, then stayed with them for hours until I could come take over.

When I thanked her, she replied simply, “They’re mine, too.”

My family, too. My kid, too.

As I was feeling guilty for thinking their own mother wouldn’t do this, my best friend took my hand and whispered, “My mom wouldn’t do this for me.”

It’s midnight and I don’t remember where I was going with this, but basically: family is the people who love you as yourself, who support you and and protect you and bring you Motrin and McDonald’s in the middle of the night. My friend has long considered my family theirs. I’m glad that the feeling is mutual.

#writing #ramble #rant #family #abuse mention #illness #food #story time #tag how #???#life #love #friendship #ugh #personal #??

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ashxketchum · 3 years

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Writer’s Month - 2

Wow, not me writing something for two days in a row? This one is a stand-alone oneshot for now, but I think there is a lot of potential for a sequel, I even have some part of it clearly planned out so if time allows me to sit down with my laptop sooner than later, I’ll work on that!

Fandom/Pairing: Digimon/Mimato (friendship, yes I am capable of writing something other than romance between these two hahahaaa)

Prompt: Coffee shop setting, cold (Yamato is very cold here, it’s actually kinda angsty)

Setting: Post Tri but pre Kizuna. Yamato is in his first year of college and Mimi is in her last year of high school. The basis for this fic is solely the dialogue in To Sora, I wanted to explore the idea of Mimi and Yamato growing closer and having important conversations with each other, but it had to have a rocky start and this is that rocky start!

“I’ll have a venti matcha berry frappe, nonfat, refrigerated chilled milk, absolutely no ice, extra whipped cream, which, make sure, is layered perfectly, with three pumps of caramel syrup and two of vanilla.”

He could feel his manager’s eyes boring into his back, so Yamato did what any other good employee in his place would, he kept a straight face and diligently noted down the customer’s request before moving on to ringing it up without once bothering to look at the girl standing behind the counter or ask for her name. He wondered if his manager would find it strange, that he hadn’t taken the customer’s name, but seeing as Yamato was already putting all his effort into concentrating well on his job and not explode on the brunette who seemed to take some pleasure out of his misery, he decided that he was allowed this one slip and he’d deal with his manager later, since the bigger problem was in front of him, eyeing him with a teasing glint in her caramel eyes as he picked up the paper cup and moved over to the work station to begin working on her order. He did however, kept a track of what his manager was doing from the corner of his eye, and the minute the older man was out of sight, Yamato breathed a sigh of relief and spun on his feet.

“Please Mimi, by all means, go ahead and make my job more difficult.” Yamato seethed, managing to keep his voice low so as to not attract any attention to them.

“Well, if you’re going to ask that nicely.” Mimi smirked, as always she had the upper hand in the conversation due to the safety guaranteed by being a customer at the shop.

“Just take the drink and go, let me work in peace.” Yamato attempted to maintain a superior tone as he begged her to leave, turning again to add the finishing touches to her order as quickly as he could, before his superior caught whiff of his not so welcoming attitude towards their customers.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Mimi beamed at him, as she accepted the finished product from his hand, her fingers brushed against his for a brief moment, suddenly making Yamato hyper aware of the spot at the back of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Entrance exams to worry about?” He asked exasperatedly, she seemed too carefree for someone who was in the last year of their high school, remembering his own experience of it from the previous year.

Mimi scoffed in reply, waving a hand in the air to brush aside his concern for her education, instead of turning to make her way out of the store now that she had received her order, she settled on the empty bar stool on the other side of the pick-up counter, resting one elbow on the counter top as she took careful sips of her drink from the other hand. He watched her like a hawk, Yamato wouldn’t put it past the brunette to make fake claims about the taste of the drink just to get him into trouble.

This had been going on for a few months now, every time he had a shift during her after school hours, Mimi would make it her life’s purpose to show up and annoy him to no extent. He’d attempted to explain to her, that he really needed to keep this job to maintain his life expenses, but apparently the pleasure she took from watching him stumble around while making coffee seemed to take precedent over his livelihood.

Of course, Mimi wasn’t the only one to blame here, if only his roommate at the college dorm wasn’t a bigger pain in the ass, Yamato would never had have to take up this part-time job in the first place. When he had complained to his father about not being able to get along well with his roomie, instead of agreeing to raise his monthly allowance so that Yamato could move out and rent a place of his own, his father had promptly told him that as an adult, he should learn to solve his own problems from now on. Yamato had half a mind to remind his father that him and his friends had not only solved the Digital World’s problems on multiple occasions, but also saved their own world by doing so, but he had stayed quiet and accepted his fate. On Takeru’s recommendation he had taken up a part-time job at this popular coffee joint, the pay was decent and the hours weren’t too bad and well Yamato always had had a knack for being good in the kitchen, so it had been suiting his purposes of saving up to move out of the college dorm as soon as possible just well.

Until Mimi happened to walk in one day and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She had been surprised to see him behind the counter, and at first she had just been curious, about what he was doing here or what he had been up to since the graduation ceremony. Yamato had to admit, that ever since he had graduated high school, he’d finally understood what Jou had been struggling with for the longest time, it wasn’t easy to maintain friendships when one was thrust with the responsibility of taking care of every single aspect of their lives and somehow pursue studies on which one’s future life depended at the same time. He considered himself lucky, if he was able to have a phone conversation with Takeru that lasted more than 5 minutes in a day. So he hadn’t been wary of Mimi popping up every now and them, updating him about her and Koushiro’s school life, and sometimes Jou’s and Sora’s too. It gave him a way to stay connected with everyone without having to make time for them, and while he did feel guilty about this on multiple occasions, he was grateful for it too.

That was before Mimi got bored with just talking about their lives, and decided to spice up their encounters by getting him to light trouble with his manager. It was usually just silly little things like claiming he got her order wrong or giving extremely complicated and hard to follow requests, and she had never pulled something huge that would seriously get Yamato in trouble, but it was still frustrating and it ruined his mojo for the rest of his shift.

There was also the question of why Mimi had suddenly taken such a liking to spending time with him, of all people, since they had never been close enough for a relationship like this. They’d spent time together before sure, and they’d had their fair share of agreements and disagreements when it came to matters related to the Digital World, but apart from that Yamato could barely remember any interactions with her that didn’t circle back to the Digital World or their Digimon Partners. So the thought always nagged at him, at the back of his head, when she would appear with a skip in her step and fix him with one of the brightest smiles he knew.

But then she would go on to do something diabolical, and he’d be reminded of how similar she was to his little brother, which led to him missing Takeru and left him irritated and wishing for her to leave.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Yamato turned his attention towards the brunette sitting in front of him, she had set down the drink on the counter top and was currently surveying the store with her bright eyes, the mischievous glint in them indicating that she was just looking for something that could serve as prop of the day in interfering with his work. Relieved that he had caught her while she was still in her planning phase, Yamato decided to take control of the situation before his manager returned and reprimanded him for being rude to their customers.

“You really don’t have anything better to do?” Yamato began icily, making Mimi turn her gaze towards him, the challenging look on her face seemed to put the last nail to his patience’s coffin as he snapped at her, “Don’t you have any friends?”

He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth, biting his tongue in an attempt to stop himself from groaning outwardly.

The effect on Mimi was immediate, all colour drained from her face and her eyes shone with a blanket of tears just waiting to fall, but with a single blink she managed to keep them at bay and faced him with a hardened look as she replied quietly, “I thought that’s what we were.”

And before Yamato could make any attempts to take back his statements or even begin to apologize for his behaviour, Mimi was out of the door, leaving behind her drink on the counter and without sparing a single glance in his direction.

Yamato allowed himself to groan out loud when he picked up her cup to clear the counter and found that it was still heavy, she had barely begun to drink it. He couldn’t help but chide himself internally, for missing on something that was so obvious, for even deliberating on an answer that was right in front of his eyes this entire time.

Yamato couldn’t believe that he, of all people, had missed out on the signs of their budding friendship, had pushed it aside as nothing but an occasional nuisance within his routine.

His optimistic side hoped that he would just explain himself to her when she’d show up tomorrow, even offer her her favourite drink for free as a token of his apology, but a tiny voice at the back of his head reminded him, that there was no way Mimi would come back to spend time with him after this.

Unfortunately, it was the tiny voice that prevailed in its prediction, as Mimi didn’t show the next day or the one after that, or after that.

At first Yamato consoled himself by devoting himself to the tasks at hand, happy to finally be able concentrate on his work, he managed to win praises from his manager on multiple occasions which pushed Mimi’s absence from his surroundings out of his head, and for a while it worked.

But then there were slow days, when he didn’t have much to do but stand behind the counter and look at all the people sitting around in groups of twos and threes, laughing and chatting loudly as they sipped their coffees and munched on their food. The sight would tug on an invisible string in his heart, make him long for Mimi’s teasing smile as she rattled off with an order comprising of the most incompatible ingredients, laughing loudly at the look of horror that would take over his face as he wrote down her instructions. There were days when the shop would be eerily silent, and he’d hear her voice in his head, telling him about something that had happened at school. There were days when someone would walk by with a pet, cuddling it and showering it with affection, making him miss Gabumon’s soft fur and he’d instinctively turn towards the pick-up counter, hoping to tell Mimi about it but was met with emptiness instead.

He hadn’t realised, just how much he had managed to share with her during their encounters, and how he had begun to depend on her company to get him through his mundane work life. And in true Yamato fashion, he had gone ahead and messed it all up by thinking about things from only his perspective.

His father’s words echoed in his mind once again, he had to learn to solve his own problems, and what better time to start than now?

#writersmonth2021 #mimato #digimon fanfiction #yamato ishida #mimi tachikawa #digimon #writealot #unfinished excerpt #I wanna write the apology scene for sure #coming up with Mimi's frappe order was hella fun tho #otp : purely friendly

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

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Bottom of the Glass

Genre: Bodyguard!AU, Angst

Pairing: Jinyoung x Reader

Summary: It’d been almost ten years since you left the life of glitz and cameras behind, never looking back. But someone refused to let go. When danger comes knocking, your father insists on hiring the best to keep you safe. Reluctant, you agree. Park Jinyoung is constantly by your side, but as the stalker gets closer, will he be able to keep you safe without getting too close himself?

Part: 1 I 2

This was the kind of life you always should have lived.

Teenage you wouldn’t be able to understand. That girl was too lost in the flashing lights and the glamor of magazine covers to understand the sacrifices that came with that lifestyle. Those things felt trivial: regular school, normal sleeping hours, being in charge of your own image and your daily activities. What was a classroom compared to flying to Paris for Fashion Week and being photographed on the red carpet?

As a child, you were used to being told what to do and how to behave, so it seemed like routine when your handler changed over from your parents to your manager. You understood that doing what you were told kept you on schedule and in work. They say that hindsight is twenty-twenty. An understatement if you’d ever heard one.

The paperwork and awaiting decisions could feel overwhelming at times, but at least you were the one making the decisions. You had a say and you weren’t treated as a money machine. Yes, as someone with employees, you had people depending on you for their paychecks, but the relationship was different. You weren’t being exploited. Rather, you were looked to for guidance. You might not have been the head honcho of the hotel business, but someday you would be. That was a legacy you truly held on to.

“A package arrived for you, Miss.”

You didn’t even bother to look up as you waved uninterested to your assistant. “Just set it down on the table.” Right now, these budget papers needed your attention. “I’ll open it later.” You hadn’t been expecting anything, but that wasn’t unusual. Partners or sponsors occasionally sent new products to test out or as a gift to keep the mutually beneficial relationship going strong.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jun put the small cardboard box on the coffee table set up on the other side of your office before bowing and leaving.

For another hour, you poured over the suggestions from the different departments of what they believed they needed to fully function for the upcoming fiscal year. All the numbers were beginning to blur together as a headache was starting to pound against your skull. You needed a break.

Yes, this was a much better career for you. Although those looking from the outside might see it as a step down, they didn’t fully understand. It was easy to look at the smiling face on a promotional campaign and stop. They didn’t dig deeper. The need to appear perfect but never reaching that level, the lack of decisions placed in your hands, the lack of privacy. What extremes had you gone to avoid paparazzi or overly adoring fans? How many dates had you gone on that were ruined either because the guy didn’t want all the attention or because that was exactly what they wanted?

Standing up, you stretched your legs by pacing around your office. Thankfully it was spacious enough to give you a good amount of room, letting you make large laps to get the blood flowing again. It was an office fit for a director with its tall windows on the top floor. Your father’s office was a few doors down the hall and even larger than yours. Maybe you should pace in there instead, to get more steps in. With the sun going down on the horizon, the chances of your father still being around were slim. Unlike you, he tried to keep to normal working hours. It made your mother feel more at ease about his health. A troubling concern that bothered you, too. When you were child, your father was Superman, invincible. As an adult, you were no longer shielded from the truths of an ailing body.

Before you could decide to check if his office was indeed empty, the package caught your eye. The return address was a P.O. Box, absent of a name of whom it belonged to. Strange. It was also addressed directly to you, no formal title preceding it, as was often the case with promotional packages. You didn’t get too many delivers in this manner that weren’t of the router or legal envelopes variety. Grabbing a pair of scissors from your desk, you cut the tape and pulled back the cardboard flaps.

And then you screamed.

The box fell from your hands as Jun came running back into the room.

“Ma’am, what happened?” he asked frantically. With a trembling hand, you pointed to the package that was now spilling out all over your carpet.

Old magazine clippings covered in red smears - smears that were obviously made of blood.

“Don’t touch anything,” Jun swallowed thickly as he backed you away. “I’ll call the police and have security review who dropped it off.”

You nodded, unable to voice anything, too paralyzed by fear. Because this was no ordinary threat. This had nothing to do with who you were today. You knew those clippings, those old articles that you hadn’t thought about in years. That part of your life had long been behind you. The only remnant of it was the rare “Where are they now?” tabloid entry that no one read. So why had someone done this? Why now?

No.

No, no, no, no, and no.

There was no way you were going to agree to this. Your life was exactly the way you wanted it to be and you didn’t need some over muscled buffoon messing it all up. In your opinion, you should let the detectives do their work while you let this creep know that you weren’t scared of him. The initial shock of the first package had worn off and now you were just pissed.

“I don’t think that this is necessary. At all.” You were determined to with this argument as you sat across from your father in his living room. His face was scrunched with worry and dark circles pulled at the skin underneath his eyes. When he called you over to your childhood home, you thought he was simply going to give you an update on the police investigation into your stalker.

Hah.

Instead he had a bomb to drop on you – no pun intended. His idea of keeping you safe with this stalker on the loose. If it had just been the one package, you would have had a stronger argument. But the phone calls started two days later. No words were spoken, just heavy breathing. You couldn’t even get a creative psychopath.

“I will not lose my only child,” your father insisted.

“I can take care of myself,” you said. “Increase security in the main lobby and start screening all packages that come in. We don’t need to go to extremes.”

Your father was much better at presenting counter arguments. “What if the stalker manages to get through the front lobby? Or if the mail comes to your home next time? Or if he approaches you at a restaurant or the park? Distanced security will only go so far. I need someone who will be there in a split second if something were to happen.”

“Father, please, do not stick some stuck up, full-of-himself babysitter on me at all times.”

“A babysitter is meant for children, and from what I see, you’re a grown woman in trouble.”

In the doorway leading from the main hallway to the living room stood three very different, yet very imposing men in tailored black suits. The one who spoke stepped forward. His black hair was parted on the side, curling slightly over his forehead. Two little dots sat below his left eyebrow. He possessed a fierce sharp face that had the ability to look… bored, almost. The others that flanked either side were complete opposites: one short with light brown hair and a stocky build, the other tall with platinum hair and a lankier frame. Not exactly the run-of-the-mill bodyguards. Were these the ones that would be stuck with you all day and night?

“Ah, Jaebeom,” your father greeted as he stood from his spot on the couch opposite of where you stood. Walking around, he shook this Jaebeom’s hand enthusiastically. “Thank you for coming. Your agency came highly recommended.”

Jaebeom placed his hand against his chest, bowing gratefully. “We’ve worked hard to gain our reputation.”

“And will one of you three be guarding my daughter?”

“Only in the areas where extra protection is needed,” Jaebeom said. “Given the gravity of the situation, I’m putting my best man on this.”

Crossing your arms, you felt like the child who got caught with their Halloween candy under the bed and now the parents were talking about what punishment to deal out. “And who would that be?”

“Park Jinyoung,” the silver haired one smirked.

“He’s finishing up another assignment at the moment, so he couldn’t be with us today,” Jaebeom said.

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of assignment?”

“A short term one.”

A bit cryptic, but you were smart enough to know when a battle wasn’t worth fighting. Whatever this Park Jinyoung was doing before he would stick to you like flypaper, it was none of your business. A small little prayer that his assignment would take longer than expected and wouldn’t show up at all was cited in your head. Pointless. Surely, Jaebeom would just insert another guard until “his best man” was available again. Your father would insist.

“I thank you for your attentiveness on this.” For the first time in weeks, the tension in your father’s shoulders released. Guilt twisted at your stomach. Though you were sure that, with a little bit of time, this stalker would get bored and move on, your father’s worry was unsurmountable.

You didn’t want to deal with this. Turning away from the others, your arms moved from a defensive position to one where you were holding yourself together. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not now that you were the boss, now that you were behind the scenes, away from the red-carpet premieres and flashing bulbs that burned your retinas. You had a grip on all aspects of your life. Your apartment was decorated the way you wanted, not your mother. You made final decisions for the company. That package was snatching the control of your life from your hands.

“Hey.”

You turned your head to glance over your shoulder. The stockier bodyguard had approached you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. A sympathetic expression softened the sharper features of his face. He could be intimidating, with his broad shoulders yet lithe build shown off by the tailored suit.

“Jinyoung really is the best among us,” he said. “He’ll make sure you’re safe and I wouldn’t be surprised if he caught this guy in the meantime.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you sighed as you turned around fully, “but it's not the stalker that I’m worried about. I like my privacy, my life the way it is now. With a guard following me around all day, word about this will get out. And then the paparazzi will be back on me like clumps of sticky rice.” They wouldn’t be able to resist a story like this.

“I know it sucks, but it won’t be forever.”

You nodded, but more in acknowledgment that he had spoken rather than in agreement. It was easy enough to say that something would end; everything does. But what you wanted was to be able to physically be close to the end. You wanted to see it, reach out and graze it with the tips of your fingers. But there was no light in this tunnel. If you ever met this stalker, you would make sure that at least one of you ended up in the hospital.

“Jackson,” Jaebeom called out, catching both of your attentions. The leader motioned out the door with his head. “Let’s go.” He turned back to your father. “We’ll make another round at the office, get to know your security there, and create a rotation that will cover the area sufficiently.”

“I thank you again for all your work. I look forward to meeting this Park Jinyoung.”

“He should arrive by tomorrow evening. If something holds him up, we’ll contact you.”

Your father shook his hand before the three bodyguards left. When it was just the two of you again, you leaned up against the wall and let out a rather unseemly raspberry between your lips.

“Please, don’t be like that,” your father begged. “I’m only trying to do what I think is best to protect you.”

“I know, I know,” you said, exasperated. “I just… I feel like I’m sixteen again.”

Your father chuckled. “If I remember correctly, you enjoyed your bodyguards back then.”

“Because I was stupid and it made me feel important.” Very important, indeed. Not just anyone had big burly men surrounding them as they walked through airport to get to the blacked-out van waiting for you in the car park. They were the ones who kept the photographers and overzealous fans at bay. When you were young, you looked at those pictures where you were wearing sunglasses to block out the flashing and thought you were one of the coolest people in the world. Now the very thought of that situation made you feel pity – whether it was old pictures of yourself or newer one of the latest generation of young stars. There was nothing to envy. Not when all you wanted was to be able to walk through the airport and make it to your flight without worrying around being crowded or pulled at or hear the constant screaming. And you weren’t even a heartthrob popstar. You’d dated a few, though.

“Well, things are different now,” you father said in an attempt to be comforting. “and I spoke to others who had used Lim Jaebeom’s services and they said it was like his men were hardly even there.”

It took a lot of self-control to bite down and keep your tongue from spouting off. Because it didn’t matter how invisible the guards felt to the others – they were probably used to treating employees like they didn’t exist. You were not going to be able to do that. You were going to be too hyperaware of the extra presence in your life. Like a shadow creeping behind you down a dark alley. Always there in the corner of your eye, lurking and waiting.

“I should probably be getting home,” you said.

Your father nodded in agreement. “I’ll have Seonjo see you there.”

“Father, I-” One quick, stern look cut off any argument. “Yes, sir.” So much for being a grown woman.

Seonjo was one of your father’s own security. He was loyal to the family, your father most of all. He once sent a disgruntled employee to the hospital for trying to harm your father. He never directly admitted to having a license to kill, but you wouldn’t be surprised. As a child, he’d intimidated you. One time, he caught you trying to sneak out through the back kitchen door past midnight so you could go hang out with your friends. You thought that being thrown over someone’s shoulder was a stunt you would only have to perform in front of a camera. Needless to say, you didn’t try that again.

Out front, Seonjo was already leaning up against your car, waiting for you to unlock the doors. You didn’t fight him on who got to drive. You simply pulled your keys out and tossed them to the bodyguard before jumping into the passenger’s seat.

“How do you plan on get home?” you asked once you were down the road a ways.

“Rideshares are very common, you know,” Seonjo snorted. He’d become more playful as you’d gotten older. Your only guess as to why was perhaps he wasn’t very comfortable around children. Those little creatures were even more unpredictable than adults and from you had observed, Seonjo liked things… quiet. And orderly. Kids tended to be neither.

“But wouldn’t that break protocol?”

“They won’t enter the property,” Seonjo countered. “I’ll have them drop me off a little down the road and walk the rest of the way.”

“Always the man with a plan,” you laughed.

“That’s the job,” he replied with a smile.

Safe and sound in your own apartment, Seonjo bid you a goodnight and headed down the elevator to meet his rideshare driver down on the sidewalk. You were a bit surprised that he wasn’t staying the night to watch over you, but you were thankful. One last night of freedom in your own home before the lion came a’ prowling. It didn’t feel fair at all. But it just goes to show that the past never stays asleep for long.

“So, wait, let me get this straight: you… are… complaining at the fact that a man has to protect you and keep you safe from your crazy, maniacal stalker?”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend, knowing that you should have been prepared for this.

Dan had been by your side since the two of you costarred in a short-lived comedy series about high school students. Not that either of you were that sad about its less-than-a-season lifespan. Right after that, you snagged the lead in the show was the defining role of your acting life and Dan was able to move on to create his own fashion line. You couldn’t say what your other costars were up to now, but Dan was always – and would always be – a constant in your life.

“Its not that serious,” you said again as you leaned forward on your desk. Dan had come to your office to have dinner with you since he was sure that it wasn’t safe for you to eat out in the open in a crowded restaurant. You know, where witnesses were present.

“See, you keep saying that, but I’m not sure if you’re aware of the actual definition of serious.” Dan folded his hands and pulled up on his knee as he crossed his legs. “The phone callss might be passable, but the package of pig’s blood with old magazine articles about you isn’t as easily overlooked.”

“I get it. I really do. But I like how my life is right now. I don’t want to think about that pompous brat of an actress I was.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dan held up a finger, “you weren’t that bad because I never would have been your friend if you were.” Now a second finger. “Second of all, you can’t control other people, honey. I don’t know why they’re suddenly fixated on you after nearly eight years, but they are. And you have to deal with it.” A cheeky look came across his face as he lifted his glass of wine to his lips. “Besides, you never know. Maybe this Park guy will be handsome and the two of you will fall in love while he protects you from the axe wielding maniac.”

You gave him your best deadpan look. “You’ve watched The Bodyguard too many times.”

“Whitney Houston is an icon. She created one of the greatest ballads of all time with that movie.”

“Actually, the song was originally written by Dolly Parton.”

Dan jumped at the third voice, nearly spilling his wine. Thankfully, the liquid didn’t leave the glass, and he was wearing black pants anyway.

Standing in your open doorway was a man in a sharp black suit with a simple cut. It was the causal kind, like your father never wore. Hair almost as dark as the suit was parted on the side and slicked back away from his forehead. The smallest of smirks rested in the corner of his mouth, giving a little bit of light to his otherwise serious expression.

Surprised that he finally showed up after waiting all day, you stood to your feet and walked over to your new bodyguard. You held out your hand for him to take. It was a strong grip, but not so much so that it was intimidating. He kept eye contact with you, but in a way that was creepy or uncomfortable. “Hi. I’m (y/n).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). My name is Park Jinyoung. Jaebeom already informed you that I was assigned to watch over you until this stalker is caught.”

“Yes, he did.”

Dan hopped up from his seat and came to stand beside you. With his own hand stretched out, he took the liberty of introducing himself. “Hi, I’m Daniel Larken. The fashion designer? You might have heard of me.”

Jinyoung shook his hand, obviously amused by the forwardness. “The one with the reflective suits?”

“It’s actually a shimmer sewn in with the thread,” Dan corrected.

“Ah,” Jinyoung nodded. “Good work.”

“Thank you.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flickered back and forth between you and Dan, smirking. He was enjoying this. Well, at least one of you would be. And now that Dan was fully onboard, there was no one left to stand by you. It was official. You were stuck with this Park Jinyoung. As long as he agreed to stay out of your way and not completely upend your life, then this shouldn’t be too bad of an arrangement.

With a brewing smile of his own, Dan turned to you. “I want one.”

You crossed your arms sternly. “No.”

#got7 #got7 bodyguard au #got7 bodyguard!au #jinyoung x reader #park jinyoung #got7 series #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfiction #lim jaebeom #jackson wang #kim yugyeom #bambam #choi youngjae #mark tuan #Bottom of the Glass

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sfb123 · 3 years

Text

Sapere Aude - Part 6

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Word Count: 2,146

Notes: Not much to say, other than this is the big meeting you’ve been waiting for. There’s A LOT of information here. I hope it’s not too overwhelming!

As always, one love to my pre-readers @texaskitten30 & @txemrn. And thank you @twinkleallnight for my moodboard!

Tags: Tags seem to not work in the actual body of the fic, so I’m going to try tagging everyone in the comments, hopefully that works. If you want to be added or removed, just let me know!

As Riley entered the solarium, Eleanor rose from her seat. To say it was an awkward moment was an understatement. Yes, they had met the night before, but there had been so much going on in Riley’s mind that she wasn’t able to truly process the woman standing before her until that moment.

“Your majesty.” Eleanor bowed slightly.

“Forgive me, but I’m not quite sure how I’m supposed to address you.” Riley was doing her best to stay guarded, even though she was screaming on the inside.

“Please, call me Eleanor, no need for formalities. We are family after all.”

Riley grimaced subtly at that. What does she know about family? Did she really just say that? Too soon, lady. Read the room. “Okay Eleanor. Please, call me Riley.”

“Riley, how are you feeling this morning? You’re recovering alright, I hope.”

“Considering the circumstances, I’m doing fine. Can I offer you something to eat or drink before we begin?”

Eleanor nodded. They both took a few moments to put together plates for themselves. Riley was certain anything she ate would immediately come back up, but she wasn’t going to let her nerves get the best of her. They sat there in silence for several long moments. Riley finally spoke up. “So, you’re in charge of the secret society that has been trying to take down my family. How’s that going for you?” There was a bite in her tone, despite her attempt to stay neutral and composed.

“Riley, please, I know how all of this may seem to you, but you haven’t been getting the entire story. There are very few people in the organization that have the full picture. I am one of those people, and I am here to fill you in on everything.”

“So fill me in. I’d love to know why you’re so hellbent on destroying the son you abandoned.” She crossed her arms over her chest. As hard as she tried to stay calm, the longer she sat there, starting at this woman, the more angry she got. Not for herself, for Liam. She was so protective over him, he was always worried about others, his kingdom, his friends, his family, he needed someone to worry about him. That was a burden she would gladly bear.

Eleanor sighed deeply. “Riley, I didn’t know what I was doing, or who I was when I joined the Via Imperii. I was a young girl with a crush on a boy. He told me about this group that would be able to show me the world.” She knew the similarities in their stories would get her attention. “Surely you understand what that feels like.”

“I might have heard a story like that once or twice.” Riley blushed and sunk a little lower in her chair.

Eleanor went on to explain that, unbeknownst to her, the boy that she followed into the group was actually sent specifically to recruit her into the Via Imperii. They were looking for a way to unite Auvernal and Cordonia, and they saw her as the way to do this. They would get her in power beside Constantine, and she could advocate for the unification of the two countries. There had even been a marriage alliance proposed at one point that would have promised Liam to Isabella and had him rule Auvernal by her side, with Leo taking over the Cordonian throne. Luckily, that failed spectacularly, and didn’t make it past the negotiation phase. The Via Imperii had chosen Eleanor because she seemed to most fit Constantine’s type, making it easy to catch his eye in his vulnerable state, considering his wife had recently abandoned him. Since she was not familiar with Cordonia, they made sure to pair her up with a native operative, to compensate and help her along the way. That is how she met Jackson Walker, her partner, and Constantine’s lead guardsman.

“Drake’s dad? Wait, if Jackson was working with you, does that mean that he’s not…he’s still...” She took a deep breath, trying to compose her thoughts, but her brain was moving too fast for her mouth to be able to keep up.

“No. Unfortunately, Jackson is no longer with us. After my extraction, Constantine became difficult, he stopped listening to everyone. Once influencing him no longer became an option, it was determined that the only path was to remove him from power entirely. Jackson expressed his doubts over the change. The Via Imperii decided that this made him a threat to the plan, so he needed to be eliminated.” There was a sadness in Eleanor’s voice that Riley wasn’t expecting.

“So the failed attempt on Constantine’s life…”

“Was not an attempt on Constantine at all, but a successful attempt on Jackson.” She closed her eyes, and bowed her head slightly. “It was so hard to see that happen to such a dear friend. And it broke my heart to watch Bianca and the children go through all of that pain. Especially Drake, it hit him exceptionally hard. But he and I both knew what this was when we signed on.”

“So there really is nothing stopping them from taking me away from Liam and Eleanor?” Riley’s eyes started to fill with tears. She was officially in over her head.

“Yes there is. Me.” Eleanor reached her hand across the table and placed it over Riley’s. “ I have caused my son enough pain for a lifetime. I won’t let him go through a hurt like that ever again.”

Riley jerked her hand back, sadness and fear quickly replaced with anger at the audacity of Eleanor trying to comfort her. “Why would you even care about the pain you caused him? Wasn’t he just part of the job? Another thing you signed on for?” This was the exact argument that she had talked Liam down from that first night that they discussed everything. At the time, Riley truly believed that his mother loved him, but all of this new information completely threw her for a loop. She didn’t know what to believe anymore, and she needed to stand up for her husband.

“When I married Constantine, it was part of the plan, yes. But in my time by his side, I truly grew to love him. He was a good man that only wanted the best for his country, and his family.”

“Yea, I’ve seen first hand what he was willing to do to make sure his country, and his family had ‘the best’.” She emphasized her sarcasm with air quotes.

“I know what Constantine did to you during Liam’s social season. My heart truly broke for you, and for Liam. The love you two have for each other was evident, even back then. Constantine wasn’t always like that, there was a time when he would have been thrilled for his son to find someone he cared for so greatly. Unfortunately, everything changed after my extraction.”

“Let’s talk about that extraction. Why did you just leave like that?”

Eleanor explained that after the marriage alliance with Auvernal fell through, Constantine started to doubt her loyalty to Cordonia, that she seemed to be putting the needs and wants of Auvernal ahead of those of the kingdom she ruled. The Via Imperii determined that, in order for the plan to move forward, they would need to pull Eleanor out. Because of her expansive knowledge of the inner workings of the monarchy, and Constantine himself, they agreed that she would still be a valuable asset, but she would be reassigned to work behind the scenes, providing them with intel to help them in their mission.

They had worked with Barthelemy through associates in the past, and they knew his desire to have more power in the kingdom, so they felt he would be the best choice to move the plan forward. In order to boost his ego, they led him to believe that he was truly killing the Queen.Through a series of undercover operatives, they ensured that no actual harm would be done. Despite Barthelemy bringing in an outsider, Godfrey, to assist him in the assassination, the plan went off without a hitch. The only problem was, after Eleanor’s ‘death’ Constantine was in a constant state of paranoia. Barthelemy was confident that nobody would be able to get to the king, and if the Via Imperii wanted any control in Cordonia, they would need to take over the throne.

Riley’s head was spinning. She didn’t know if the explanation made things better or worse. She understood now the mechanics of it, but she still couldn’t comprehend a mother abandoning her son. “But you just left Liam. Abandoned him. You knew what these people were doing, you knew what the plan was, how could you just leave your son in the middle of all of that?”

“Trust me, leaving my son behind was the hardest decision I have ever made. When I was assigned to my position as queen, my loyalty was to the Via Imperii. The second I became a mother, everything changed. My priority became my son. He took precedence over everything.”

“Then why did you leave him?” Riley’s voice was small, barely a whisper.

“It was the only way I could protect him. They wanted me out of there. At least if I went willingly, I could still be here to keep him safe.” Elenaor looked at her hands, which sat clasped on the table in front of her. “Leaving Liam will remain the greatest regret of my life, but it was all I could think to do in that moment to protect him.”

Riley’s eyes closed briefly, those words immediately brought her back to the balcony in Fydelia. That was practically word for word the reason he gave her for choosing Madeline at the Coronation. Boy, the Cordonian Ruby doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Eleanor looked up, a single tear rolled down her cheek as her eyes met Riley’s. “I made it my personal mission to make sure you joined the Via Imperii so that we could work together to keep Liam safe. They want him out, they are telling you that the plan has changed, but I know for a fact that it hasn’t. Liam has already proven to be one of the best rulers Cordonia has had in centuries. The two of you are exactly what this country needs, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone ruin that.”

There was a level of vulnerability in Eleanor’s eyes that Riley wasn't expecting. It was the look of a mother desperate to protect her child. The same look Riley had seen in the mirror when she was protecting her daughter from the countless threats that they had faced in her short life. There were still so many unanswered questions, so many obstacles and grey areas. As horrible as all of this was, in that moment, Riley truly believed Eleanor, she trusted her.

“So...what can I do? How can I help?”

“You and I will stay in touch, I will give you any information as I get it, so that you can stay one step ahead of them. For now, just keep your family close, and keep living your life as you normally would.”

Riley nodded. Part of her wanted to tell Eleanor that Liam knew what was going on, that she had told him everything, but she was afraid that would do more harm than good. She figured she’d wait, at least until she told Liam about her. While she did believe Eleanor was being sincere, she was going to let Liam take the lead on how this relationship progressed. She was grateful for her help, but that wasn’t going to cancel out all of the pain that she had caused Liam.

Eleanor stood from her seat. “I really should be getting back, but I’m so glad we had a chance to talk.” She extended her hand to Riley’s.

Riley was just about to shake her hand when she paused. “Wait, I have one more question.” She had just remembered a very important missing piece to the puzzle that was Eleanor’s death. “You were pregnant when you die...er, were extracted.”

“Right, of course. I found out I was pregnant about a month before the extraction. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Constantine, which was probably for the best.” She looked down. “I had a son, he was raised in the Via Imperii, and is currently on assignment within the Palace.”

“Wait, so Liam has a younger brother, and he works in our home? He’s been in contact with his brother this whole time, and he doesn’t even know.” Riley felt that all too familiar sting behind her eyes again.

“Yes, we placed him in the King’s Guard so that he could also help in protecting your family. His name is Thomas.”

Tags: @txemrn @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @anjanettexcordonia @twinkleallnight @mile9213 @kittypryde-bipride @motorcitymademadame @kat-tia801 @bebepac @gkittylove99 @khoicesbyk @jessiembruno @queenrileyrose @athena-penrose @pixie88 @eadanga @choicesficwriterscreations @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @annarenee355 @burnsoslow @shewillreadyou @imturaxamara @gabesmommie1130 @cordoniaqueensworld

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

June Contest Submission #19: Nube Negra

Words: ca. 3,700 Setting: post-F2 Lemon: no CW: self-harm, angst

“It looks ready to storm outside.”

“Huh, you think?”

“Yeah, look.”

“Mmm. Does that mean you’ll stay longer?”

“Stay longer?”

“Yes, stay longer.”

It was always frustratingly fleeting, the times that Elsa would come to the castle. She would come for just a single night, maybe once a week if that, and often would not even stay until morning. The rain had provided the perfect excuse, it would have been simple for her to stay. Elsa wanted to stay, right?

Anna slumped in her throne, one hand tightly gripping the arm. The other raked its way up her face and through her hair, smoothing it for the hundredth time. Why? What had she done to deserve this ire? It had all been going so well before, so what changed?

She needed to reflect on what happened last night. How could it have gone so wrong? It was just a simple request. Now Elsa was upset, and she had to piece together why. But maybe she should have expected that from her, because her efforts always made Elsa upset, didn’t they. No, that was cruel.

‘Think, Anna!’

There was only a limited amount of time before court began, so she would have to do this quickly. Now then, where did this all begin?

__________________

The day was beautiful, and the heat gentle. The humidity did its best to smother everyone, but the heat was far too tame to cause breathy discomfort. Gale had brought a message confirming the allotted time, and Anna had the time set aside by her advisors. Running a country took a lot of effort, but she could always make room for Elsa.

Anna had noticed the grey clouds gathering in the distance and hoped to the gods above that Elsa would make it before they realized their threat. It probably didn’t matter, since it wasn’t like she felt the cold or that type of discomfort. They would have fun, indoors or out. That’s what mattered. If she was lucky, it was possible that they would be able to cuddle up again while the rain pattered down.

It was strange though, Elsa’s letter. Something about the word choice felt stilted, or maybe reluctant was the better word. There seemed to be many a reference to being very busy and still hoping to make it, despite all the issues. Was she trying to say that she wasn’t coming at all? If so, why not state it outright? But that was something they could bring up later, since Elsa didn’t have to come if she really didn’t want to. Anna wasn’t that clingy.

__________________

‘The letter.’

Oh man, she should have read that more carefully and taken it to heart. Stupid, stupid, stupid, how could she have been so blind? Elsa hadn’t wanted to spend time with her and tried to let her down easily. And who could blame her? Anna could be clingy and overbearing on the best of days. Was that an attempt to spare her the upset?

Elsa had always been the reclusive type, even before the accident. Heck, even afterwards it was difficult to spend time with her. Anna had tried to respect those boundaries, but even she knew she had broken them occasionally. That was wrong, wasn’t it. Terribly, utterly wrong. Boundaries were there for a reason.

Her head ached and a sick feeling rose in her chest, along with a lump and a pit in her stomach. God, god, oh god she was horrible. Her nails dug into her forehead and raked her scalp hard as tears threatened to well. No! The person in the wrong should not be upset for their misconduct, it was their own misbehavior.

It was for the best that Elsa spent her time away from someone so awful, who treated her in such a sick way. Making her so deeply uncomfortable and yet still drew her in like a tired moth. And yet, and yet loving Kristoff, good Kristoff…

He gave it all up, hadn’t he? But he was the son of love experts, he would know, they would know. He had offered to help them hide, had known since long before. And yet he stood with them. Why? Why would he give hope to someone like her?

__________________

They had spoken in private before. Matters of the heart, discussions of romance. It was a topic of common interest between them, and Anna was a quick learner. Kristoff was as enthusiastic as she, but over time something in their dynamic changed. Maybe it was the spark in his eye, or maybe it was her dulled excitement. Whatever it was, something was off.

It all came to a head when he stopped her in the hall one day, and they retreated to a private study where they would not be disturbed. Kristoff himself looked impassive, though she could tell his composure was just a bit off.

Kristoff breathed in, and spoke:

“Anna, I know.”

A spark of confusion and worry leapt into her chest as she responded.

“Know what?” Her voice was pitched up, almost breathless.

“Look, I know how you feel about Elsa.”

“Y-you what? I- You do?! I- I mean I don’t feel anything about her, except well sisterly love but you know that’s normal! Right? Right.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Kristoff gave a wan chuckle, “I’m not mad.” Anna blinked. “You’re not?”

“Anna, I was raised by love experts. Trust me when I say I know what I’m talking about. And you sister? You’re in love.”

“But… but I’m not. Well, I am but it’s with you.”

Kristoff shook his head and smiled.

“You really are oblivious huh.”

“I am not!”

“Okay, let me put it this way. What would you do for her?”

“Anything! You know that!”

“Would you die for her?”

“You know I would and did with that whole frozen heart thing! I’d be dead if it weren’t true love!’

“Feistypants, that’s not how people usually act. And the true love? It doesn’t apply to everyone.” “That was sisterly love and you know it.”

“Anna,” he said, “listen to me. I know what I’m talking about. It’s okay to admit it.”

She looked at him, mouth quivering, then said, “But what about you?”

“What about me?” “Wouldn’t that hurt you?”

Kristoff shook his head. “I’ve gotten over it, really. I just want you to be happy, okay? That’s what would make me happy.”

Anna shook her head and hugged him. “God, Kristoff, I don’t think I could repay you.”

“How ‘bout a sack of the best carrots you can find for Sven?”

“Kristoff!”

“Okay, okay, geeze.” He raised his hands in mock defeat. “But really, I’m here for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

__________________

She knew well that probably hurt him a lot, especially when he proposed to keep their facade going. After all, it was improper for a young man like him to spend time with the princess unless they were to marry or something similar. But it was even more improper for a Queen to love her sister. Certainly, there was precedent but not between sisters.

And yet for a time, all was good. They spent time together, they snuggled and kissed in private. It was easy. They were in love, and that came with some arguments, but nothing was wrong. But then the apathy began to settle in, and Elsa began to almost resent being there.

The change was so subtle, maybe she had no chance at noticing. But maybe there was just that base incompatibility of certain parts of them that they had ignored in their honeymoon phase. At what point had she become upset at the lack of contact between them despite the plethora of time they had? When did Elsa become tired of her presence, annoyed to have company?

She should have capitalized her time when they both lived together. She should have done something, anything other than what they had done. She should have reached out first and communicated. That’s what she had always been told, that communication was key to a relationship. And she failed, hadn’t she? She failed, and she was seeing the consequences of that.

Should have, could have, would have. It was useless now, because the present moment became the past and she did not. In the moment, it did hurt when they weren’t together or if she felt that Elsa would leave her again. And she did, didn’t she? But maybe that was inevitable. Maybe that was healthiest for them both if she was too overbearing and hurt by their childhood to heal while Elsa was still there. Worst of all was the fact that she might have to be okay with that and heal from her own mistakes.

Anna’s hands shook as she tried to steel her nerves and not curl up, crying. She wanted nothing more than to scream and cry and beg in upset. Instead, she raked her nails over her scalp again, relishing in the little grounding the pain provided. This was far too much for one little girl like her to handle.

‘No!’ she screamed mentally. She was a queen, an adult woman, and it was time for her to act like one. This entire mess was her fault, and she had to take responsibility. She could not- would not collapse emotionally in front of her people. Even when her sister had seemingly died, she took the next right step. Even in her deep uncertainty, she willed herself composure until it was over.

There was no use in pitying herself or behaving like she wasn’t the one who instigated this. What she had to do was do better in the future. And thus, she had to relive what went wrong so that she might now do right. It was only what Elsa deserved. And maybe Elsa didn’t deserve to have someone like her, but she would do her best to be the best partner she could be.

And yet, she still couldn’t help but be upset at the rejection.

__________________

She waited in the entrance hall, as was customary. There was nothing quite like watching the grand double doors open to let in Elsa’s figure. The juxtaposition between the massive oak doors and the tiny silhouette of her sister was mesmerizing. It always called to mind a painting where the splash of color drew the eye and allowed the art to unfold from there.

And then they didn’t. She waited, and waited, but there was no Elsa. The grey clouds had coalesced by now and had begun darkening. What caused her to be so late? There had to be a reason for it. Maybe she had gotten caught in some early downpour in the forest?

There had to be a reason. Elsa was not the type to be tardy, so it had to be something else. Still, it irked her some. Couldn’t she have sent a forward letter with Gale informing her that she might be late? Or maybe she was too busy to do that. Maybe she was in danger and it was awful to suspect her.

Anna read and reread the letter, hoping to glean some new meaning out of it. Unfortunately, the letter stayed inert and did not succumb to her wishes. All she could tell was that Elsa was supposed to come at the correct time but was busy. Busy with what? It never clarified, and it was probably rude to ask. Still, it couldn’t hurt to emphasize the importance, right?

But then Elsa became later and later and Anna continued her vigil in the entrance hall. It was foolish really, she ought to be working on things now so that they might have more time later to make up for the time lost. But she still desperately wanted to be there when Elsa arrived so she waited.

Finally, the time came. Anna was twisting her hands and watching the door with aching eyes, hardly daring to blink.

‘There. Movement. Please, let it be her.’

And it was. Elsa’s face seemed almost haggard in the firelight, though her expression was neutral. She was perfectly dry, and seemed to be alright. That piqued Anna’s curiosity more, but she shoved it down. Anna then smiled and crinkled her eyes, caught between conflicting emotions and genuine gladness. Only the gladness was allowed to shine through.

“Hey you, you’re finally here.”

“Hey, I’m here.”

Such a simple statement. And yet it sucked the wind out of Anna. The lack of enthusiasm hurt, but she was determined to spend this time well. They greeted each other with a simple peck on the lips.

__________________

What a fool she had been to not say anything then. Should she have called her sister out to prevent what was to happen next? No, that probably would have escalated the conflict sooner than it had. The conflict was inevitable by then. Maybe if they… no. No ‘maybe’s or ‘what if’s. She had to figure out what to do next.

The letter was her hint. Elsa did not want to stay for long, likely because she tired easily of human contact. That had been established. But why did she say nothing in that case? Why did she always shield herself behind excuses of being busy and implications but never statements of how she felt? That wasn’t fair. She’d done her best to interpret them.

No, that wasn’t fair at all. Heat rose unbidden to Anna’s face and her teeth bared themselves in fury as her brow furrowed deeply. How dare she, how dare she! This was not Anna in its entirety! She made mistakes, yes, but so had Elsa! At least she was willing to think back and change her poor behavior!

She wanted to scream again, to shout, to beat her fists against something in fury. Stomping, pacing, clenching her hands until they hurt. It almost felt cathartic to imagine it, but she maintained composure. An adult did not throw fearsome tantrums.

But now her upset morphed into rage and the thoughts spilled into her mind. It wasn’t right that she always blamed herself. It wasn’t right that Elsa never communicated and always locked herself away. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and she ought to be allowed negative emotion, oughtn’t she?

‘You know that’s unhealthy. But it’s fair, it had to be fair.’

But it wasn’t, she had the right to be angry, right? Elsa may have thought she was doing the best she could, but she hadn’t. Couldn’t she see how much that hurt the people around her? How much it hurt her? She reached out again and again to her sister, trying to help, trying to care, and how many times had it been rejected?

Who else then, could she have blamed? Certainly not her parents. They weren’t the ones who were seemingly mysteriously shunned. They weren’t the ones who were faced with the prospect of being trapped in a gilded cage after being given a taste of freedom.

Spreading blame was wrong, she knew this. It was worthless in such a hapless event like their childhood. But she couldn’t help but have her heart rate rise at the mere thought of Elsa’s actions recently. She ought to know better!

It simply wasn’t fair. It was not fair. She did her best. Elsa withdrew. She tried to find out what was wrong. Elsa withdrew. Was there nothing she could do that didn’t involve driving her away? And in that instant, less than a fraction of a fraction of a second, she hated Elsa for everything that happened.

The moment ended and she was struck with a bitter sting of remorse that left her insides twisted and hollow. Hatred wouldn’t fix their relationship. Anger wouldn’t either. Neither would self-pity nor self-hatred. The only thing that could fix this was reflection and work. So reflect she would.

__________________

Everything had been going so well. Despite her initial misgivings, Elsa seemed to mellow out and allow herself to be swept up in the games. Anna forgot her concerns and they played, all of them, as a group. When was the last time they had been able to do this? Spend time all together, embrace, and lose herself in Elsa’s arms? When did it become so that their relationship oft lacked such basic touch?

What had gone so wrong?

It mattered not. She enjoyed every stroke from Elsa, every cuddle. She stroked Elsa’s jaw, Elsa played her fingers on the nape of Anna’s neck. The sensation was electrical. They continued such touches throughout the lovely evening and until it was time for Elsa to go.

Already, Anna ached for the phantom comforts from Elsa, but she walked her to the main hall. There, they spotted black clouds lying in ambush above, and waiting for them to leave.

They spoke the fateful words, Elsa being the one to ring the fatal doom-toll.

“It looks ready to storm outside.”

“Huh, you think?”

“Yeah, look.”

“Mmm. Does that mean you’ll stay longer?”

“Stay longer?”

“Yes, stay longer.”

__________________

Anna couldn’t help but wince at those words. They circled themselves, round and round in her head. Rumination they called it, but she knew that they would not leave her until her dying day. Powerful was the pain of hypotheticals.

She should have known something was wrong when Elsa became increasingly less receptive to contact. Maybe she should have known something was worse when she openly snuggled. But that didn’t make sense. Elsa had never been reluctant to express love, even if it was difficult at times.

Contact, she suspected, may have been linked with the frequency of seeing her. Elsa’s visits stopped up as if they had become increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like being around her was the issue, even though it clearly was. It seemed that Elsa was reluctant to come, but glad to stay for a time.

‘But not for longer,’ her brain reminded her.

No, not for longer. That much was clear now. It was upsetting, but she also understood that it must have been one of Elsa’s boundaries that she had broken. Of course it was. She should have known from before. It almost felt like a minefield, blinded as she was from communication.

She breathed out as she understood. They needed to talk. What mattered is that they talked.

__________________

When Elsa said no, Anna couldn’t help but ask and wheedle for her to stay. Both out of a desire to see her for longer and because it concerned her to see Elsa in what was likely to be a massive storm. It wasn’t like the forest had a roof, and Ahtohallan caused her more worry than not.

Elsa grew increasingly frustrated to the point where they broke into a shouting match. Anna didn’t know whose voice raised first, or why they began shouting anymore. She had run the memory so ragged and remembered it so much that it was hardly more than a blur.

Still, she could remember the intense emotional pain that came with it, raw and jagged. The upset was so severe that she felt sick mid-argument, wishing for anything else, anyone else to be there. The build-up had boiled over and all came crashing down.

At the same time, the clouds decided to drop their heavy yokes and loose the rains upon them. The crash of thunder and flashes of lightning punctuated their furor. They threw insults and upset word, uncaring of the consequences. In that moment, the only objective was to hurt as much as possible.

Nobody intervened, as they let the fight play out. In the end, Elsa stormed out into the heavy rains as Anna called her name with increasing hysteria. She crumpled to the ground in defeat as her senses and rationality returned to her.

__________________

It hurt to remember, she didn’t want to. Anna longed to take the memory and shove it away so that she might be spared the pain and embarrassment of her own childish actions. But that too would be childish, so she instead reflected on it.

Her behavior was wrong. She behaved poorly and broke boundaries in the relationship. Realistically, Elsa should have left her for such things and didn’t. That much was true. Anna had to learn from her mistakes and remake herself into a better person. Someone who could love Elsa without hurting her.

But Elsa wasn’t an angel either. She had failed to communicate. Her silence was inasmuch a sin of inaction as Anna’s was of action. She could not know she had done wrong until she was told by Elsa. Dropping only hints and then blowing up at a person when they misinterpreted them was also wrong.

Anna sighed. She may have been able to recognize that it was not solely her, but she had no control over Elsa either. What she did have control over was herself, and she intended to do the next right thing. What more could she do?

Love took work, and True Love doubly so. She had made a mistake, but she would not cower from her burden. No, she would not do that, not to Elsa. She would fix this, somehow. She would find a way to communicate with her, to reach the same level, and intended to work with her to improve what they somehow broke.

Anna’s heart clenched as she realized that it all balanced on one thing. That Elsa would be willing to extend her hand and meet her halfway. She would do all she could, but there was a very strong possibility that it wouldn’t happen.

It would hurt terribly. She knew that they could have ruined everything forever, and she would have to live with that. Could she live with that? Yes, she had to. For her people, and most of all for herself. Even the largest jagged wounds could heal. But she hoped against hope that Elsa felt the same way.

It seemed an uncertain given with their true love. Of course they would heal, that is why their love was true. But the damage they had unwittingly done due to their inherent differences was large. Could they? It had to be.

But she didn’t have time to think about it any longer. It was time for court to be held, and she would address her problems later. Now the time came for Queen Anna to rule wisely and compassionately. That was a queen’s duty to her people.

As the doors opened to the first petitioner, Anna saw their silhouette.

“…You?”

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm #cw: angst #cw: self harm

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septiembrre · 3 years

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just reread So I Come To You My Love and i am soft!!! they're awkward, smitten teens trapped in the bodies of adults

Awwwww!!!!! THANK YOU for rereading!!!! So I Come To You My Love was so softtt and so much fun to write. To start off this post, here's the song I listened to a bunch when I wrote it.

I love thinking about Beth and Ruby on the plane. I had this fantasy of them away together on a trip and finally having rest and non-stressful adventures. I figured they'd be typical Americans and want to go somewhere romanticized like Paris (especially bc it seems like a place that American Black folk have identified is a relatively comfortable and safe place to travel). Like can you imagine them doing all the cute touristy things in Paris? Walking about looking gorgeous and eating bomb food? MY HEART.

One day when I have more time, I want to do a vacation series where everyone gets to take a break. They deserve it. I also really want to write Brio on a beach.

Lmao, I'm just going to quote an enormous, self-indulgent passage now:

But, historically it had unfolded the other way around. There had never been a precedent of Beth being the one to smoke bomb out for a few weeks...

Of course, she wasn’t smoke bombing anywhere, slipping away into the ether. This was a long-planned vacation, months in the making, decades in the dreaming. There had been careful plotting to adjust the slack in the printing schedule and there had been deliberate calendering with the children’s summer activities. And well, Rio knew where to find her -- both where her rental was in Paris and where she more permanently lived (with him).

And it’s not like they hadn’t talked every morning and every night and sometimes in between of these past three weeks

God, she feels clingy and codependent and too much like her teenagers. Ruby had called Stan half as much.

And she’s still itchy.

…And kind of oily now?

She keeps scratching at a spot on one of her shoulders, at her palms, blotting at her face.

The people around her are going to think she has some sort of disease.

Except for Ruby, who knows.

So, Beth sits there, tapping, scratching, sighing into the void of time.

And it shouldn’t be so much of a surprise when a little more than halfway through the flight, Ruby’s hand emerges from its blanket cocoon to clamp down on Beth’s jiggling leg. Regardless, Beth all but levitates a foot into the air, gasping.

“Chill out.”

I loved writing this part!!!! Ha, and now I have it as a personal writing headcanon that I like for Beth to startle, and i always have it in the first drafts of everything (and then i write out bc i have control!!!) and I love writing her children startling just like her.

Oh my god, I'm direct quoting the whole thing now. I tried to argue to sothischickshe a while back that AO3 should allow us to annotate or endnote fics to be able to add like a director's comments feature on it. Oh well!

“So… message him again?”

Beth cants her head low, letting her hair fall to obscure her face.

“He’s being… you know how he is.”

“I… do but I’m not sure I want to know what that means.” Ruby pauses, sitting with it. “Oh my god.” She clamps her hand down again, this time on Beth’s wrist. “Does he want you to take naked pictures in the bathroom?”

Beth tries to snatch her arm away, flailing in the seat.

“What if Delta sees your nudes?! Please, tell me you did not do that in that sardine box ten feet away from me, Elizabeth. Marks.”

“I didn’t. I would never.”

Someone a row over shushes them.

Ruby relinquishes her grip to press at her eyebrows. “Y’all are too much.”

Beth shrugs. “He really liked those caftans we bought at that boutique.”

Ugh, they're CUTEEEEE!!! I love the lead trio, but damn if just wouldn't love more one-on-one Ruby & Beth bff scenes. Beth has a particular type of emotional vulnerability with Ruby, and I love them being the same age and having come up together.

And, in regards, to Brio~~ like you know our guy was like mad texting the whole time they were apart. He tried to play it kind of cool for the first few days, wanted to let B have her space, but they end up getting all itchy sleeping apart and it just ~d e v o l v e s. He's like already thinking about when they would get to have their own vacation together, looking up the plane tickets.

I don't imagine them being ridiculously unboundaried about the calling but they're navigating a more clingy relationship stage and they finally have reason to not be immediately near and they miss each other. Beth is having this really wonderful time with her friend, but during her downtime she wants to call the person she's romantically in love with and eagerly share all the details. I enjoyed imagining a Beth who is slipping into the territory where she has the comfort-level of being able to pick up the phone without overthinking it and call Rio (ala her sister and Ruby). And Then starting to realize that she has that comfort and being like O H. D:

And of course, I loved writing the kiss. My partner and I used to do long-distance at the beginning of our relationship. Even now that we have lived with each other for many years, when we're apart, I really look forward to that first kiss and I liked sharing that with Brio. Especially, as a couple that has historically~~ textually~~ not done much kissing.

I'm a sucker for the Big Romance kiss.

Oh, god. Sorry for talking your ear off but let me know if you have any questions about it! I'm also very happy to take prompts in that universe.

#my writing #my fic #ugh i think i need to think of a proper tag for this #so i come to you my love

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years

Text

On The Subject of Love

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 3.3k Warning: Tame. A few curse words and mentions of sex. Summary: Becca coaxes Ethan into talking about his experience with love during their visit to Leland Bloom's yacht.

Author’s Note: this took waaaaay too long to write and i’m still not sure i’m happy with it :/ but thank you @aylamwrites for pre-reading and leaving hilarious comments ❤

________________________________________

The drive to Leland Bloom’s yacht was staid, a direct contrast to the glorious sunshine surrounding the bubble of the sedan. Ethan was navigating the unfamiliar route to the private yacht club with extreme disdain. His ego wanted to resolve this case and finally put an end to this petulant competition with Mass Kenmore Hospital. Sitting in the passenger seat of his car was his favorite accomplice, Becca, calmly staring blankly out the window and still so unsure of his feelings towards her.

She knew she riled him up when she went behind his back to seek out the first high-profile patient, influencer Gwenyth Monroe. Though, in her defense, the man wasn’t actively trying to save the Diagnostics Team from the budgetary chopping block. Ethan Ramsey was always so blinded by his pride and ethics - He did the same with their future as well. But, Becca also knew she stepped over the line this morning when she called him a spoiled child in front of Baz and June at Mr. Bloom’s estate. Though she didn't really regret it because someone had to tell him off, the interaction still left a bad taste in her mouth.

Becca wasn’t too sure where they stood - professionally or romantically. The words Ethan spoke not too long ago in the dark of his office rang through her head: I want to know you as you truly are.

That was a few weeks ago. There he was breaking down their simply professional facade once again. It was a constant tug-of-war with him. Some days Ethan would let the wall crumble by letting her in or grabbing her hand, and others where he’d build it higher than before just to keep the force of Becca at bay. She didn’t realize how sweet of a memory the two of them creating his Pictagram account during that late-night research session would become.

He’s such an old man…

Ethan cut through her reverie, “What are you thinking about?”

With her gaze fixed on the passing trees and her mind still half-stuck in her daydream, she responded without further consideration, “Do you really never want to get married?”

Ethan’s brow furrowed at the random intrusion, needing to think before settling on a response. “Are you still stuck on this?”

The two sometimes-lovers spoke briefly about his views on the subject while working on Gwenyth’s case late into the evening. To Becca it was one of the most important questions in building their not-so-subtle budding relationship - she needed to know if Ethan was worth all the… complications. He spoke about how he didn’t believe in soulmates, unconditional love, and his doubts on marriage as an intuition. He never once spoke about his experience with love.

Looking out the window into the cloudless end of summer day, Becca boldly asked, “Haven’t you ever been in love? Wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone you’ve dated?”

“Oh god, no,” he scoffed with wide pale blue eyes. “I told you, Rookie, I don’t see the point.”

She rolled her disbelieving brown eyes and let the conversation pause there as they pulled up to the dock.

***

After the yacht set sail the doctors waited around the stern in a restive silence for 45 minutes while Mr. Bloom wrapped up his business meeting. Once safely away from the prying eyes of investors and colleagues in the yacht's master bedroom, Ethan and Becca begin to run tests and scans on the deteriorating businessman.

“Mr. Bloom, can I ask you and Caroline a question?” Becca asked as she drew a few samples of blood. “It has nothing to do with your case. Me and my friend here are debating something,” she nodded her head at Ethan’s general direction.

The patient looked between the two with a devious smile, “Sure, swing.”

Becca quickly peered over at Ethan standing at an expensive gold and glass table with the mobile sonogram machine, his arms crossed and waiting for her to enlighten the room with her inquiry.

She shot him a coy smile before turning back to the worldly man and asking, “How did you know you wanted to get married?”

Ethan stifled a surprising cough. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought she’d ask a complete stranger that.

Mr. Bloom smiled as he instantly recalled every moment he has ever spent with his now-wife.

Closing his eyes he recited, “We’ve been business partners for decades - since college, actually. We were married about 11 years ago. I’ve known her my entire adult life and waited until I was almost 50 to tell her how I really felt.”

His eyes opened and found Caroline sitting in the chair by the large bay window immediately. The two looking adoringly at one another for a few seconds, speaking volumes in the language of love. For a moment Becca’s heart panged with hope that she could have that level of fondness with a man - that unconditional and unencumbered attachment that precedes words.

“My recommendation is to tell the other person you have feelings for them from the get-go. It’ll buy you time together. Its - it’s the most precious thing in the world to be with the one you love most.”

The way Leland Bloom spoke about his wife humanized him - he wasn’t a cut-throat businessman with oligarch-like wealth. He was a man who wanted as much time with his loved one as this world would permit, no matter the cost.

“But how did you know she was the one?” Becca quizzed further.

Mr. Bloom looked at Ethan's awkward form first and then to Becca as he asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

Ethan’s attention was focused on watching the images printing, deeply embarrassed by Becca’s brazen question and wanting no part of the conversation. Feeling everyone’s gaze on him he took in the three expectant stares and exclaimed incredulously, “Wha - Of course I have!”

Becca smiled at the old man, “Yes.”

“Do you remember how it felt?” Leland’s eyes bore into Becca’s begging the memories to surface.

She nodded.

Becca peered over at Ethan for a split second, his eyes meeting hers. She could see the curiosity swirling around his dark blue orbs alongside something else. Feeling ashamed for getting caught staring she bit her lip and tore her eyes away from him before she could even try to pinpoint just what the mystery emotion was.

“It’s like that,” Leland reassured. “But you’re constantly drawn to one another. The simplest and meaningless of tasks make you the happiest. You can sit in the same room in your own little world of silence together. Your heart swells when you look at them.” Like before his eyes flashed over to Caroline. “You’re never bored. And you can rely on them. The most telling sign was that I knew I needed her in my life even before I knew I had feelings for her. The intimacy was an added bonus.”

He smiled up at his wife who now stood close by with an affectionate hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“Would you agree, darling?”

She nodded only for him. “I knew he was my person when he’d stand up for me. He wouldn’t let anyone belittle me or my intelligence. He challenged me to be a better person and comforted me when I needed it. He’s the best partner I could ask for.” Caroline’s body shifted to Becca though her eyes never left Leland’s, “Does that help your debate?”

Becca looked over at Ethan who didn’t have an inkling of amusement in his features. “I think you’ve just proved my point, but I'll give him a few minutes to form a rebuttal,” she winked at the couple.

They shared a pleasant laughter at Ethan’s expense.

“Ok, Mr. Bloom, you’re all set,” Becca beamed as they finished their examination. “We’ll give you a call once we have the results from the lab later today.”

With a nod of his head Mr. Bloom replied, “Good evening, doctors.”

Ethan didn’t say a word as they disembarked the vessel.

“So…” she started, expecting him to begin arguing his case on the disillusion of soulmates.

Ethan wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

The walk back to his sedan was stewing in awkward tension under the afternoon raging heat. More than halfway back to the car Becca had just come to accept the fact that Ethan wasn’t going to engage in their little intellectual tiff when he spoke with a critical eye;

“How many people have you presumably been in love with?”

She certainly didn’t expect that to be his first rebuttal. It almost made Becca drop the medical bag she was holding. Almost.

She simply responded, “Two. You?”

Over her shoulder she saw Ethan walking straight and stoically, eyes fixed ahead. He was ever so expertly guarded and displaying no telling emotions.

“Three, maybe,” he shrugged, not giving it a second thought.

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think teenage relationships could really count as love.”

“So we won’t count it,” Becca agreed with a small nod. “My number stands at 2.”

They made it to the car and Ethan popped the truck for them to put the gear. He fussed with the equipment, taking slightly longer than necessary to make sure the bag with the blood samples were safe and secure. Becca eyed him carefully from the sidelines expectantly.

With a loud thunk of the trunk and eyes glued to the license plate, he hesitated, “One.”

“Tell me about her.” Becca demanded sweetly as she moved to open the passenger side door. “Or I can go first?”

“Please,” he motioned for her to continue as they settled into his sedan.

Becca took a cleansing breath as she buckled herself in for the journey.

“It was my first year of undergrad. His name was Mack.” Becca could almost hear the roll of Ethan’s eyes as she stared out her window. “We dated for a year and broke up because my workload got intense and I couldn't go out much.” She took a pause as she remembered all those meaningful moments that came to define her adult-self. “He was a liberal arts major, really outgoing. He brought me out of my shell and taught me to be the person I am today. I’m really thankful for him, but more grateful that it didn’t work. I loved him, but I know now I definitely wasn’t in love with him. Looking back I don't even know how we would have made anything work.” Becca chuckled to herself. “He works in television now.”

There was a pause before she continued onto the second romantic love she’s ever experienced. Part of her hoped Ethan would jump in with an antidote.

Still, he kept his eyes on the road ahead.

“My last relationship was during med school. He was something else,” Becca continued with a vibrant smile. “We had great chemistry and a good time together.”

The affection in her voice for the nameless man instinctively had Ethan gripping at the wheel just tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Medical school wasn’t more than two years in her past, still enough time for the exes to find their way back to one another…

“We thought we were supposed to be together because that’s what you’re told as a kid - go to school, find your soulmate, get that good job, get married and have babies. We groomed each other to be all that. But the pressure of trying to be someone’s perfect person was too much. He went to California and I went to Boston. I don’t know what he’s up to today.”

Her smile faltered as she wordlessly recalled the day she and Thomas Miller III walked out of one another’s life for good. Ethan would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved to know her break up was not amicable.

“Your turn.”

Becca didn’t have the strength to turn and face him, the still-raw memories were playing out against the glass of the rear-view mirror and she couldn’t banish them just yet.

Ethan began to recite his past relationship like a bulleted list, checking off any sort of pertinent information; “It was for nearly 10 months. During medical school. She was gracious and brilliant. We never saw much of each other but when we did we had the most riveting medical debates. It was good fun.”

“That’s it?” Becca questioned in astonishment. Her brows were furrowed as she tried to keep her mouth from hanging open. How could someone look back on their first love with such displeasure? Even if it ended horribly the feeling of being in love is magical... and shouldn’t that in itself be celebrated?

He nodded.

Becca folded her arms across her chest and bit her lip as she pondered his words.

With the slightest scoff Becca boldly concluded, “I don’t think you were in love.”

Ethan was taken aback, clenching his jaw tightly in blatant refusal of conveying his surprise at her account of what happened with his heart while she was still in grade school. “How would you know?” he retorted.

“Because if you were you’d see each other all the time,” she responded simply and with a jovial lightness - like she’d cracked an undefined code. “You’d forgo sleep to spend some time together. You’d talk about your insecurities, your family, your dreams of the future. Not just medicine and cases.”

“You’re romanticising it.”

That one phrase stirred something up deep inside Becca. Who was he to tell her those things didn’t matter in a relationship? Those are the things they talk about and she… she wouldn’t admit to it. With that one romantic phrase they dove back into the quarrel Ethan so desperately didn’t want to be having.

Undeterred by consequences she countered, “How often did you have sex?”

“Excuse me.”

“You heard me,” she challenged.

Ethan let out a long breath of air. They were stuck together for at least another 25 minutes and there wasn’t a single thing he could say to dodge his way out of this one. Although he didn’t like the fact, they both were acutely aware that Rebecca is the only person who could ever ask him an impudent question. She had earned that right that night he crossed the line and they ruined one another in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Once, maybe twice a month, I think.”

“Months!?” Becca practically jumped out of her seat. Her head whipped around to face him.

Ethan hadn’t moved from the upright position and tight grip on the steering wheel she noted when they began their journey back to Edenbrook. The only thing that was running through Becca’s mind as she gawked at the admirable DNA of the man beside her was: How?

“It was a long time ago,” Ethan said, still completely unflappable. “I can’t remember correctly.”

“I was lucky to have sex twice a week.” Gosh, there were so many questions fluttering around Becca’s mind that she just couldn’t find the right words to articulate how unfathomable his confession seemed.

She watched as he raised an eyebrow, “You had other priorities.”

“No,” she stopped him right there with a point of her finger. “I had the same education as you. In between classes, assignments and reading your entire body of work I found time to find time.”

The corner of Ethan’s lip twitched when she mentioned her devotion to his life’s work.

Becca couldn’t believe he dared question her priorities - he read her application, he knows just how diligent and qualified she is.

She wanted to continue arguing but knew it was futile. Instead she asked another innocent question, “How many relationships have you been in since her?”

“Hurm, one,” Ethan grumbled, “Harper.” He paused to look at Becca out the corner of his eye for any sort of reaction. She gave him no ill indications - Her alert brown eyes were on him and brows rose high, awaiting further explanation. The two have had a quick quip on his history with the surgeon, but nothing past hearsay. “We’ve been on and off since residency,” he told her once more. “Now can we stop talking about this?”

Becca conceded, settling back into the shiny black leather. “I can’t believe you dated Harper,” she mused as she played with her seatbelt strap, “You two are so…”

“Different?” Ethan finished for her. “We actually have a lot of the same interests.”

“Intense,” Becca grinned as she finished her train of thought. “But I'm glad you got along.”

“We didn’t.”

If she wasn’t confused by the attendings’ relationship before she sure as hell was now. “Wha- How? You just said you have a lot in common.”

“Having similar interests and getting along are not mutually exclusive, Doctor,” Ethan smirked.

With a slack jaw and eyes trained on him once more, Becca all but demanded, “Explain please.”

“We were two people at the top of our respective classes,” he began. “Medical journal leeches were pitching us again and again. Everyone was pushing us together - a power couple, if you will.”

“The pride of Edenbrook,” she muttered in understanding.

Ethan nodded, “Pretty much.”

“Did Naveen orchestrate your coupling?” she asked. “He loves a good gossip story.”

Ethan shook his head once, “Naveen just wants me to be happy. At that moment he thought she’d make me happy.”

Becca let his words settle amongst them. She shouldn’t feel unsettled by his honesty, yet she did. There were too many comparable variables coming to light today.

Becca chewed on her bottom lip for a few pensive seconds before asking the fated question; “Did you like her?”

As soon as the words fell off her tongue she shut her eyes. She didn't want to see the damage the words could cause, and yet her body craved the answer.

“I had an affinity for her, if that’s what you mean,” he asked but didn’t give her the chance to clarify. “We had the same interests; both of us very career-orientated. Ultimately that’s what got in the way.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully about his next words. He said them slowly and a decibel quieter than the last, “And that I didn’t have highly romantic feelings for her.” Just then Becca’s eyes shot open, fixed at his loosened grip of the steering wheel. “I still have a lot of respect and admiration for her.”

A small smile crept up on Rebecca. Those words alone held all she needed to know - Harper Emery never was and never will be a contender for Ethan’s heart.

“Then why do it?”

He shrugged as his features settled back into their default stoicism, “It was the right thing to do. If we didn’t… people would spend the rest of our lives forcing us together.”

She cocked an eyebrow, “So your relationship was a PR stunt…?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not a low-life, Becca.” He took pure offense that she thought he would do anything without a saturation of intention. “We tried because it seemed right. It seemed… inevitable... to try.”

“Huh, ok.”

He used her words against her. ‘Inevitable’ was what they were. Does he feel the same way about their relationship that he felt about Harper? Surely he didn’t, but she’d have no way to know. Ethan Ramsey kept pushing her away, and yet years ago he refused to wait and chose to explore those ineludible feelings with someone else.

Was Harper the reason we aren’t together, since he’s done the whole ‘inevitable’ tango before? She speculated.

Ethan’s next comment broke through her trance, “Aside from those disasters called relationships I have spent time with a few other women. You can rest assured I’m not completely incapable of intimacy.”

“I know you’re not a robot, Ethan,” she lamented. I’m happy to be one of those women.

Becca was glad he opened up to her, and for their intimacy all those months ago. Though, the gnawing of how many other women Ethan Ramsey had taken to bed in the days without her or Harper Emery plagued her mind. She wanted to press further but knew not to - she pushed her luck too much for one day.

_____________________________________

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#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x harper #choices oph2 #oph series #oph ff #choices fanfic #ohsy

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scriptaed · 4 years

Text

his side, her side | 9:23 A.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; (bold = genre for this particular drabble)

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 1.8k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 7;

her side;

Jungkook [9:23 A.M.] Happy Birthday!!

You can still recall every fluctuation in the mayhem that he always brought along, particularly on that very hour of your day. A beacon of light had peeked through your curtains and perfectly struck your already-squinting eyes, but it isn’t the sun that has your heart racing like the end of a marathon that marks the start of your special day—rather, it’s the aftermath of its gentle shake that engraves this particular moment amongst the myriad of otherwise mundane, forgetful birthday mornings.

It’s an overly cliche scene straight out of those young adult rom-coms you used to roll your eyes at, yet even you couldn’t remain immune to the flutters of your stomach and the drums of your chest when you awaken to the sight of his name first thing in the morning. You won’t admit it now, but the undeniable stretch of your grin upon reading his message is enough proof to your prideful self that he still manages to evoke an emotional response from you—even after all this time.

A relieved sigh escapes your restricted chest as you prop yourself against the bed frame and dally with the unexpected task at hand. Flipping your phone from palm to palm, you mull over just how blindsided you had been to this incoming text. You had been arranging dinner plans for a girl’s night out in preparation for the one day you get to celebrate your ever-so-slow descent into adulthood and eventual retirement that you hadn’t even paused to anticipate this year’s annual texts from colleagues and classmates you had not heard from since… your last birthday; and even though Jungkook doesn’t exactly fall into that category, for you two had really only connected half a year ago, he was the last person you would have expected to be reminded of today.

Come to think of it, it’s been a while since your mind had stumbled upon the ephemeral memories shared with him, a while since you caught him staring at you in the corner of your eyes, a while since you fidgeted with your hand and contemplated your choices of fight or flight. Ever since your project had ended and your excuses to strike a conversation with your partner dwindled to zero, you had convinced yourself that fate had finally given up on you and is now punishing you for leaving the myriad of granted opportunities to wilt; because you still bumped into him at work from time to time—but after that particular night of a gut-wrenching revelation, your ultimate decision to cut your ties came abruptly.

It was no easy feat, that’s for sure. After having reality slammed before your eyes and accepting that maybe this red string that tied you to him is nothing but a silly fantasy, you had to somehow train yourself to forget everything you’ve come to know in the span of a month. You avoided him at work and on the walk home, you adjusted your daily routine to ensure your paths never crossed with his, you even archived his messages that you once found yourself daydreaming over the endless possibilities now burnt to ashes, until slowly but not certainly, he had become an afterthought.

Yet here he is, just as you’re about to forget him, like an old habit that trickles its way back into your daily routine, you find yourself smiling at the thought of him once again… and after all that has come to light? To be the first person to send you birthday wishes? You can’t help but snort at yourself and him, shaking your head at the naive skips of your heart and the audacity of a man who just doesn’t understand the repercussions of his alluring charm.

Because even if you could no longer feel the same way about him like you did in a fleeting fragment of the past, you would never be able to deny this attractive force of his. He’s different from the others. He’s quiet, aloof, and intimidating, but his reputation can’t hold a candle to the real Jungkook you know. He’s more than the apathetic look he wears more often than not and he’s gentler than the devilish smirk that he adorns when he had witnessed something less than worthy of an arduous, feigned laugh, because the crinkle of his nose when you finally manage to crack a toothy grin on that face is worth every bit of intimidation.

He doesn’t give a shit about what others thought of him because he sticks to his virtues and he treats every guy and gal—lame or popular, average or gorgeous—equally. He says he doesn’t give a shit about the opinions of others’, but he takes careful consideration into the delicate response of those affected by his actions. He does what he does because he believes in doing the right thing and not because he wants those extra points that has you believing in chivalry again.

And all of that still holds true, that is, if the motives you suspect behind his text proves false.

It’s a good thing your birthday came well after you had mostly gotten over whatever thing you had for him—otherwise, you’re sure things would have gone awfully awry today had you not been. You would have been clinging onto that last bit of hope and wondering what it means for him to have remembered your birthday and even go through the effort of sending you a message after all this time apart, but now, knowing what you know about him, you hold your head high with a smile hiding more than he could have ever had.

Two can play at this game.

You [10:12 A.M.] Thanks!! 😊

And for once, it really doesn’t mean anything more than that.

his side;

Notification [9:18 A.M.] Y/N’s birthday is today!

Jungkook had just finished downing his first bottle of today’s many, hoping that his favorite drink, also known as water, would be enough to dilute the distasteful coffee he had willingly subjected himself to soon, when his phone vibrates against the kitchen island. The boy had leaned over the counter and grabbed ahold of his phone fully expecting to internally roll his eyes at social media and its pesky birthday reminders of people he doesn’t know well enough to just casually drop a wish for, but the familiar name that pops onto his screen freezes him in his tracks.

It doesn’t occur to Jungkook how long it’s been since Y/N’s name had taken residence at the top of his notifications. A crooked grin cracks his precedent frown as he recalls the persistent messages Y/N had once bombarded him with in their time together. He can still remember the click of his tongue as he indulged in his cathartic workouts only to be disturbed by the seemingly endless stream of texts and reminders of work. Who would’ve known those memories would be revisited with a tender fondness that has even Jungkook dumbfounded?

It isn’t like he totally forgot about Y/N. After all, out of everyone he’s met at work, she’s been the most peculiar one by far. Although their time was short, the fidgety hands, wavering eyes, and curt responses intertwined with the most giggly of laughs, she always kept him on the edge of his seat, wondering just what was going on in that mind of her’s—particularly when he came into work that one day and nothing was ever the same.

Because some days he would spot her from the top of the stairs and try to greet her from afar only to watch her pivot on the balls of her feet and shuffle in the opposite direction. Sometimes he would bump into her on the way to their cubicles in the morning only to find himself searching for the girl in the following days turned into weeks and months, even. At times, he would even lock eyes with the girl across the hall, waiting for a response and wondering if he had mistaken himself when she passed by without a single greeting.

Sometimes he felt like a ghost, not to the colleagues, not to the world, but to her. He couldn’t quite put the unsettling drop in his chest into words—because it isn’t exactly disappointment nor dejection. It was almost as if she had awoken one day, swept by the winds and the mystical moon, and for whatever reason, decided to sink a ship that had long set sail.

But as Jungkook has come to learn, time flies by quickly, even for a man like himself; because whatever he was feeling, the heightened consideration catered toward her, the amusement he found in whatever she had in the works, the profuse feeling that something was fueling the two and something was inevitably bound to manifest, and the crash of confusion when it all came to an abrupt stop, had faded with each passing week.

Still, even the sight of her name brings a grin to his lips.

Seeing as how Y/N had shot him a birthday wish last time—and being the first and few ones to remember, at that—Jungkook figures it would be rude of him to swipe the notification into the abyss, even if the two had an unexplained, rocky interlude up to this point.

Draft [9:22 A.M.] Happy Birthday

Jungkook cocks his head at the blunt message. Short and to the point, it’s a message he would have sent any other colleague… but seeing the fond birthday wish and gratitude the two had shared just a scroll above his drafts, he finds himself scratching at the task before him.

“Jungkook?” a familiar voice calls from outside his apartment door. “Are you in there? You ready?”

“What? Oh, shit,” he curses when he notices the time on his phone. “Yeah, give me one second!”

You [9:23 A.M.] Happy Birthday!!

The phone is tossed to the side as Jungkook dashes to open the door to a girl who stands before him with a pout and crossed arms. Peering down at his partner, the chuckle that leaves his lips depart along with the thought of what he had left behind.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our coffee date,” she mutters.

“And what if I did?” he laughs, freezing when he locks the door behind him. “Oh, shit.”

“What? Did you forget something?”

“Oh, uh,” he pauses, contemplating, “it’s nothing. Let’s go.”

He may have forgotten his phone, he may have forgotten having sent a message to someone he no longer held any ties to, but when he returns to the apartment and checks to see a heart next to his message and a reply right under, he would never forget the thought that crosses him in that very moment.

It doesn’t mean anything more than that, right?

#bts scenarios #bts x you #bts x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bangtan fanfic #scriptaed

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bellesque · 4 years

Note

idk if your requests are open still but royal loki concept with a midgardian reader— yeah? maybe? take it wherever you want from there and be creative because your other fics are and just amAZING! i might be late but anywayy— happy birthday, even though it was yesterday!

Midnight’s Mischief (Loki x Reader)

Read on my AO3.

Summary:

You only wanted to feel like a princess for a night.

You didn’t expect to meet an actual prince.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Dancing, Royal Loki, some Cinderella Elements

A/N: Listen you can’t give me so much freedom like this because I feel in my bones this is going to turn into a multichaptered fic and I have a million other wips side-eyeing me rn

Tag List: @shiningloki @imnotrevealingmyname @wolfsmom1 @hanyasnape @lukeyirwy @toozmanykids @rorybutnotgilmore @myraiswack @green-valkyrie (Tag List is currently open! If you’d like to be a part of it, let me know!)

BEING IN A whimsical, fairytale ball has always been high on your list of escapism fantasies.

You wondered if princess parties (like the ones in movies) were actually real when royalty was still a thing. If they got to attend extravagant, lavish balls in venues that seemed to reach the high heavens, with castle corridors illuminated by candlelight and crystal chandeliers. Whether fact or fiction, you’ve never been more excited for a night than you are now.

Just for tonight, you allow the indulgence of looking—and feeling—like royalty.

Your heels clack against the marbled tiles of the venue as you and your friend Leigh navigate your way to the Regency Ballroom. Careful not to trip over your ball gown, you glance at Leigh. Beside you she shimmies, adjusting the top of her gown to fit her boobs better.

“I feel twelve,” she mutters, brazenly cupping her breasts.

“Oh, please. As if you’ve never wanted to be a princess for a night.”

“I mean, yeah, when I was twelve. And I’m saying this with love, but the fact that you’ve got on a fucking crown isn’t exactly helping me feel like an adult here.”

Your cheeks grow warm. “I’m sure I’m not the only one,” you say, a little defensive. “And by the way, it’s a tiara.”

Leigh smirks at you, perfectly painted lips curling at the edges. “Twenty bucks?”

“Fifteen.”

“Bo-ring.”

“Fine.”

She claps her hands, looping her arm with yours. The Regency Ballroom is right ahead. “I hope you know that I agreed to this because you said there’d be some yummy men. Potential knights in shining armor, all that jazz.”

“And I value your honesty,” you say, nodding a thank you to the servers who open the large doors as you approach. “But, for the record—”

“Whoa, the organizers of this thing were not playing.”

It’s true: the place is more than what you imagined from the email invite you received prior. Aside from the grandeur of the venue itself, the entire ambience transports you into what feels like another world entirely. Soft, regal music swells from the mini orchestra that plays on the raised platform, and everyone’s dressed in gowns of all colors and periods and styles.

It makes you a little giddy to see everyone commit to the event to such an extent. You wish this becomes a regular occasion.

“You don’t mind if I ditch you, right? If I, hypothetically, find someone cute?” Leigh grabs a glass of wine from a passing waiter. “Because I saw this guy in a tailcoat on the way inside, and he was kinda giving me looks already, so…”

Leigh is neither best friend nor fair weather friend. She’s in town for a few days, and having been partners in a high school class once, she somehow felt the need to ring you up, pleading for you to take her anywhere because she was dying of boredom.

You mentioned that you had an extra ticket, and she said yes before you could even finish your sentence and tell her it was to a costume ball.

“Hey, no worries,” you beam, plucking the wine glass from her fingers and taking a dainty sip, “by all means, mingle! Meet someone! Get swept off your feet! It’s a party. It’s what I was going to do whether or not you came anyway, so don’t be too guilty.”

“Okay, great!” She kisses you on the cheek. “Because he’s kind of already waiting.” Leigh jerks her head to the buffet table across the room, where a broad-shouldered man stands tentatively, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He’s clearly waiting for someone—that someone specifically being Leigh, if the not so surreptitious glances your way are any indication.

Before she can leave, a lady with a hoop skirt that’s draped more than the large windows of the ballroom comes into your peripheral, something glittering atop her bouffant hair.

You lift your chin at Leigh triumphantly. “Pay up first, baby, you saw that tiara.”

“Fifteen.”

“You said twenty!”

“I changed my mind!” she calls as she lifts the hem of her gown off the floor, retreating. Laughing, Leigh waves and you bring up a hand as the man places a meaty hand on her shoulder blade.

Well. You knew you’d lose her for the night. Just not this quickly.

Still, what you said is true. Leigh’s absence doesn’t dampen your mood. You’re happy standing by the tables at the side, observing people and their different gowns, with a glass of rosé in hand. Couples trickle into and out of the ballroom dance floor; others mingle by the tables like you, occasionally nibbling on the fanciest finger food you could ever imagine. The light reflecting from the gorgeous, majestic chandelier dances over the partygoers, and you revel in the moment, wanting to commit this to memory. Simply existing in it. The minuet transitions into a waltz, and more people and their partners taking to the dance floor with excited grins on their faces.

You would like to take your dress out for a twirl at some point before the night ends. If only a gentleman were to ask.

“That’s a lovely color on you, my lady.”

Speak of the—you turn around, glad you didn’t startle so much to the point of spilling perfectly good wine, to face whoever spoke to you. A subtle smirk plays on the face of a lithe man dressed in what looks to be costume straight out of a period film. Or fantasy period film. It doesn’t really make sense, but somehow he makes it work.

You glance down at your gown: a rich forest green with silver detailing cinched around your waist. “Oh, uh… thanks.” You smile politely.

Only it falters after a couple seconds, because he pins you with an expectant look. “My… lord…?” you try, uncertain.

Satisfaction spreads across his face, confusing you mildly. Did he really wait to be addressed…?

“Would you care to dance?” he asks, taking a step towards you and bending forward. A bow, you realize, as he holds the posture while awaiting your answer.

“O-okay, sure.”

You slip your hand in his outstretched one, his slender fingers clasping around you and leading you gently to the middle of the dance floor. His back is as straight as a board as he guides you towards him, and when you’re a pace away he pulls you closer. His hand settles on the small of your back, yours on his shoulder.

And then you’re waltzing; slowly, tentatively, shyly. Though he takes the lead you can’t follow as well as you should, your bafflement blocking you from waltzing like you do in your daydreams. And as weird as it sounds, he’s distracting you from dancing—even if you’re dancing with him.

He’s good-looking. Strong, cutting features with a regal gait. He stands much taller than you are, his head angled down towards you so his green eyes pierce you with the intensity of the sun at high noon.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you. As much as you try to look away, fixate your attention instead on the couples that sway around you, your gaze always finds his. And he probably hasn’t looked away from you once. There’s no malice in it though—he regards you with somewhat of a silent, amused curiosity.

If it’s awkward to be dancing with a good-looking stranger who seemingly can’t take his eyes off you, it doesn’t help that you’re both painfully silent. You expect him to make polite small talk as he guides your steps—only aside from the lovely orchestra playing and the faint chatter of the attendees around you, all that’s heard is the sound of your breathing.

The music winds down, violins sustaining their last note, and your expectations are shattered once again when instead of this mystery man guiding you into a twirling finish, he spins you into the next dance.

Another waltz.

“Do I scare you, princess?” he asks, raising his chin slightly.

You jump a little at his sudden question. “Um. Maybe a little?”

The man sighs, giving a short chuckle as he shakes his head minutely. The hand on your back releases you as you circle around him, one of your arms outstretched as gracefully as you can manage, before you come back in front of him and rest your hand back on his shoulder.

“Perhaps my reputation does precede me,” he mutters.

You blink, even more confused now. “Sorry?”

“Do you…” He narrows his eyes in near disbelief. “Do you not know who I am?”

“I think I’d remember if you told me your name,” you say with a sheepish laugh. Of course you’d remember. With a face like his and the rich voice to match, meeting him on a night like tonight? You’d remember it forever.

“Ah. Then—forgive me, my lady.” He pulls away from you to bow cordially. “Prince Loki, of Asgard.”

Stunned doesn’t seem to cover the emotion racing through you. No one else seems to mind that you’ve both stopped smack dab in the center for him to bow to you with a flourish of his cape. He looks up at you, expectant, yet again, and so you hastily curtsy and mumble your name.

He rises, taking you once again in his arms and picking up where you left off in perfect rhythm to the music. It’s a little disorienting. Your mind struggles to catch up: so far he’s bowed to you twice, is leading you through a perfect waltz, and is, apparently, a prince.

“And your kingdom, my lady?”

“What?”

“Am I to believe you’re a princess with no people to rule over?” he smirks.

And then somehow, realization dawns on you: he’s an actor. Trying to get you into some kind of fantasy, medieval, whatever character to really sell the idea to yourself that you have actually been whisked away, into a story akin to fiction.

“Okay,” you snort, “since we’re doing this whole made up thing, fine, I’ll humor you. Uh”—you rack your brains, glancing at the chandelier overhead—“Genovia.”

“Genovia,” Prince Loki repeats, as though testing the name on his tongue. It comes out melodic and velvety, making you shiver involuntarily. “Sounds… quaint. Not as dreadful or painfully dull as some of the other kingdoms I’ve heard of tonight. What in the Nine is New Jersey?”

You laugh this time, an actual belly laugh, your head tipping back in mirth at his delivery. You sober up sooner than you’d like when you see he’s still absolutely mystified.

“Well, that’s what it is,” you add helpfully. “Genovia… it… yeah.”

“What are your people famous for?”

Damn. He’s really making you think. “Gosh, um…” You blow out a raspberry. “Horses? Apples? Archery? Oh! Mattress surfing.”

Prince Loki hums thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Either he’s an exceptionally good actor, or he really hasn’t seen The Princess Diaries. Or, a part of you begins to argue, he could actually be who he says he is—

But that wouldn’t make sense.

Could it?

“Well, what about you?” you say quickly, seizing the opportunity to deflect. “What’s uh, what’s Asgard famous for?”

“The Realm Eternal,” Loki says, completely serious. “Warriors of strength, leaders of justice.” He pauses at your lost expression. “Have you not heard of it?”

You have a feeling he has more to say, so you shake your head. Prince Loki spins you around once, before continuing.

“Asgardians are the peacekeepers of the Nine Realms, endowed with strength of all facets to keep the realms from falling. Thwart the possible dangers it can be to itself before it starts, or finish disputes where they arise. We protect. Asgard plays a vital role, if not the most vital of all the realms.”

“And you’re their prince.”

The corners of Loki’s lips curl upwards. “One of them.”

“So you have a brother.”

You’re not sure why you’re still entertaining him at this point. The waltz’s cadence does nothing to separate you from each other, and neither does the lively first note of the polka. Instead Loki’s leading you into a quicker step, bouncing in the most poised manner you’ve ever seen a man dance in.

“Aye,” he says. “Most prefer him to myself.”

“I prefer you,” you blurt out mindlessly, immediately feeling regret in the form of heat crawling up your neck.

Prince Loki’s piercing green eyes light up in surprise. “Not many would,” he murmurs.

“Well, I mean—” you backpedal, “—I don’t—I haven’t met—”

The entrance to the ballroom rattles in its hinges, followed by a booming thud. Heads swivel to the source of the commotion and even the orchestra falters. You are no exception, craning your neck to look behind Loki and at the doors.

He is the only one who seems completely unfazed.

“Perhaps that is for the best. Ready for our big finish, princess?”

Bang! The doors swing open, and strange men in very detailed costumes—metal armor, odd-shaped helmets—charge in, long spears in hand. Your mouth falls open. You’ve never seen anything like them. The attendees gasp collectively, some dancers pulling away from their partners to retreat to the sides of the room.

But Loki places his hands on your hips, lifting you off your feet and into the air, and instructs, “Eyes on me, princess.”

“Wh—” He spins you around, the world around you blurring, and you fix your attention on him so as not to get dizzy. “Prince Loki, I think we should get ou—”

He sets your feet on the ground, a mad intensity in his eyes—and Loki wraps his arms around you and kisses you.

Well. You’ve had multiple daydreams about how tonight would go. This is definitely not one of them.

His arms tighten around your waist, and swarms of butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach. Your feet are on the ground, but with your fingers and toes tingling with every soft movement of his lips against yours, it feels like you’re floating. He’s kissing you. You’re kissing him.

The clanging of armor jolts you apart, but Loki keeps you within arm’s reach. Your heart pounds against your sternum.

“I like it when you say my name,” he murmurs.

“Prince Loki!” one of the strange men shouts. The prince in front of you flinches slightly, and then huffs in amusement.

“Don’t like it when they do.”

“I—what?”

Loki sighs. “I’m afraid I have to bid you good night. And farewell.”

“Wait, who are they?” Question after question presents itself, your mind a jumbled mess and your knees still shaking from that damn kiss. “What do they want?”

“The Einherjar. Ah. Well.” He brushes a thumb over your cheekbone. “What’s life without a little mischief?”

“Your Highness!”

“Where is he?”

He pulls you by the elbows, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, and whispers in a voice that could melt butter, “Something to remember me by.”

And then he takes off, a cheeky grin splitting his face as he keeps his eyes trained on his pursuers, slinking through the crowd and towards a nondescript door. An exit.

The strange men sift through the partygoers. Some shake their heads in fear, cowering; others shrug. You simply hope they do not approach you. And by some mad stroke of luck, when they’re a few feet away from you—they ignore you entirely.

Loki catches your eye by the small archway, and with a mischievous wink and a heartstopping smile, he disappears with a flash of his green cape.

You exhale, a little shakily, as one armored man shouts instructions and points to the door. They bolt after him, each footfall thunderous. A few seconds tick past, and once the clatter disappears completely the orchestra warms up again.

Back to normal. Just a little. But you—you’re still reeling from what just happened.

Leigh sidles up to you, poking your side.

“So,” she says, “who was the knight in shining armor, and what’d they want with him?”

His kiss, the feel of his mouth against yours, still tingles at your lips, lingering like the warmth of a fire. You stare at the open door, still trying to make sense of what on Earth just happened.

“I… I think I just met a prince.”

#by belle #rorybutnotgilmore #reader request #loki x you #loki x reader #loki fluff #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #fluff #ao3 author

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

Note

For the most recent prompts, no. 35 with peraltiago?

I’d love to! 🌟 Here’s a little something for 35: “Your stray red item turned my whites pink.”

love, in full colour

Today was turning out to be a pretty great Sunday for Amy, as she stretches her legs out on her boyfriend Jake’s surprisingly comfortable couch and presses play on the documentary he had so sweetly recorded for her. Weekends off had always been a favourite of hers, but if there’s anything that the past nine months has told her, it's that weekends off when you’re dating Jake Peralta are just so much better.

She had woken up this morning to Jake’s familiar sleepy cuddles, morning stubble scratching against her skin and sending tingles up and down her spine as his arms wrapped around her waist, convincing her in approximately 2.3 seconds that sleeping in definitely wasn’t such a bad thing (especially when it eventually leads to … other things). It had been a long week; made all the longer by a perp that had decided to play cat and mouse with the detectives of the nine-nine, and even after they’d stumbled out of bed and toasted bagels for breakfast, Amy genuinely didn’t have any desire to have a day any more productive than TV, blankets, and (most importantly), Jake.

It had been close to half an hour ago that he’d slipped out of the apartment for the second time, basket in hand as he’d headed back down to the laundry room to collect the washing he’d put on earlier. Rebuffing her offers of help with a swift kiss to her lips, he’d simply reminded Amy of the program ready and waiting for her, throwing out a “Love you!” as he’d headed for the door, and honestly if Amy’s Sunday hadn’t already been looking great, that moment right there just absolutely topped it.

(It’s been months since they’d started saying it - those three little words that had seemed so terrifying but actually were up there with her favourite phrases ever - but they still managed to spark a tiny ball of happiness inside her every single time the words came out of Jake’s mouth. She supposes that this is what love is, really - sour candy flavoured kisses and laughter in the darkness - and she’s so thankful that she found it in Jake.)

The documentary has been playing for ten or so minutes before Amy’s index finger begins hovering over the pause button, one part still interested in the manufacturing process of the world’s oldest brass instruments, and one (slightly louder) part feeling strangely empty without her boyfriend’s warm chest to rest up against. (Even though she knows he would spending the entire program playing on his phone, there’s something about his presence that just makes everything … better.)

Amy’s still in Consideration Mode when she hears Jake’s key slide into the lock, and it’s ridiculous how big her smile begins to get, but as she tips her face up to catch his eyes her lips falter on their ascent.

There’s an obvious air of frustration surrounding him as he skulks past her, holding the plastic basket close to his hip as he heads towards the bed on the other side of his loft-style apartment. It bounces slightly against the recently remade duvet as Jake dumps the contents onto the mattress, his frustrations quickly bubbling to the surface, and without hesitation Amy forgoes the remote control, standing quickly to join her boyfriend by his bed.

“Everything okay?”

He nods, letting out a soft grunt as he half-heartedly starts folding the newly cleaned clothes, and honestly Amy is trying not to pay attention to his folding technique, but her fingers are just itching to take over. There’s still a slight pout on his face, small enough for her to pick up on, and it takes precedent over any Kondo-like techniques that she might be dying to demonstrate. “You sure?”

Jake gives her another nod, followed quickly by a shrug. “I mean, there’s one little problem with the laundry that I don’t know how to fix, but … it’s no biggie.”

“A problem with your laundry?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, balling up the t-shirt in his hand before dropping it back into the pile, using his free hand to run through his hair, which has just started to get long enough to curl. “Turns out there was a stray item of yours that was in my laundry. I mean, there were a few things, and that makes total sense, but there was one item in particular - a red item, actually - that I think might be the culprit.”

“The culprit?”

“So … I might not have noticed have been paying close attention when I transferred everything to the dryer, and well …” he lifts up a pair of socks, similar to the ones he wore to bed last week except now they were a deep pink, and Amy tries her best to stifle her giggle. “There’s like … another three pairs just like it,” he adds with a mumble.

“But! May I present to you, detective: the guilty party.” Transferring the socks to his left, his right hand digs through the pile before pulling out a lacy red bra that Amy may have recently bought purely on the knowledge that it was one of Jake’s favourite colours on her.

(To be fair, he might have told her that all of the colours were his favourite colours on her, but she’s definitely seen a positive response to the colour red in the past.)

“Alleged guilty party, thank you very much,” Amy begins, grinning to take the edge off of her response. “Plus, you didn’t seem to mind that bra so much last night, if I recall correctly.”

She reaches for the offending item, and Jake’s fingers tighten around the lace, holding her bra close to his chest, and she giggles at his reflexive response. “Despite my flinging it across the room, I can confirm that I did - and DO - indeed love it. Almost as much as I love the person who was wearing it.”

Her cheeks begin to turn the same colour as the socks in her boyfriend’s hand, and Amy cocks her head to the side. “I love you too, babe. So … what’s the problem you can’t figure out? If it’s the pink you’re worried about, a bit of bleach will get that right out.”

“Huh?” He lifts his hand up, glancing at the item that Amy is pointing to. “Oh. Nah. I don’t care about the colour. You and I both know that I would rock this pink. I can already tell it’s going to highlight my ankles in the perfect way. Really accentuate my curves, you know? I just ..”

Even before they were something more than partners, Amy could see through Jake’s ‘make a joke to conceal how I’m really feeling about something’ technique, and today is no exception. Taking the smallest of steps closer to him, she softens her voice ever so slightly. “Jake?”

His shoulders slump to the floor, and his right hand releases her lingerie. “I just … I feel so stupid. I’m trying to be the perfectly domesticated boyfriend, a responsible adult who cleans up after himself and doesn’t leave empty pizza boxes everywhere.” His eyes drop to the floor briefly before flicking back up to meet hers, and the sincerity in his gaze cuts Amy to the quick. “You know, the kinda guy that doesn’t need supervising in the laundry room, or whatever.” His hand closes tightly around the socks before dropping it back into the pile, and when he looks back up at Amy she can see the disappointment stretched across his face. “And obviously, I completely failed. I wasn’t going to say anything, but .. I dunno, I guess maybe I don’t want to keep things from you or something.”

In all honesty, Amy’s not entirely sure what she was expecting Jake’s answer to be, but it definitely wasn’t that. She stands still in front of him for the longest minute as a result, mouth open slightly as her mind races to absorb his response.

He takes her silence as a request for more information, and shuffles his sneaker covered feet against the floorboards. “It’s just … I know that people think that you’re way too good for me. And to be fair, they’re not entirely wrong. I was just hoping that I could find a way to bridge the gap a little … try and make it a little less obvious that I’m punching well above my weight. And then I couldn’t even do the damn laundry right.”

At any given moment, Amy could present to any asking stranger a million reasons why Jake Peralta was the man that had captured her heart, and the notion that the justification was coming from her very own boyfriend was making her soul ache more than a little bit.

Anybody that thought he wasn’t good enough for her could go jump in the Gowanus Canal, for all she cared. But the thought that Jake considered it to be true? Nuh-uh. Not on her watch.

She moves closer to him, close enough to smell the oddly intoxicating body wash he uses - the one that always seems to get her pulse racing, but she suspects that it’s more due to the user than the product itself. “Jake. You specifically ordered dinner last night from the Chinese restaurant that was exactly thirty-five minutes away from your apartment, knowing that I would be over in twenty and you wanted to give me a chance to settle before the food arrived.”

“That, and they do the best dumplings. But yeah, you’re right - mostly the time thing.”

“I woke up this morning on a cloud of a mattress, one that you bought purely so that I would be able actually sleep when I stayed over.”

Jake’s mouth twists to one side, and after a beat he folds his arms across his chest. “I just wanted you to feel comfortable … with the added bonus of you staying over more often. Although I have to admit, once you’ve realised you have a dumpster mattress, it’s actually really hard to ignore the springs that dig into your back in the middle of the night.”

Amy’s smile grows bigger, reaching out to rest her palm flat against his chest. “And then you made us both bagels, with extra cream cheese - something that I know you don’t normally have in your fridge, which tells me you went grocery shopping just in case I stayed over. Not to mention the documentary on brass instruments that you ‘happened to see scheduled and just recorded’, because you knew I would want to watch it eventually.”

“It actually looked pretty cool,” he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to make it seem like a lesser deal than it actually was.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the freshly cleaned sheets, and the space you’d made for me in your bathroom cabinet months ago.”

“…. Are you … journaling all of this somewhere?”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Amy shakes her head. “My point is, you are rocking the boyfriend role, babe. Seriously. You have been so sweet and attentive, without ever getting too much, and honestly I’ve just had the best time with you. I hope you know just how much I appreciate it … how much I appreciate you, and how great you make me feel whenever you’re around. Seriously, you should feel my heart sometimes, I feel like it’s going to beat right out of my chest.”

He still has a slightly wary look on his face, but as Amy wraps her arms around his shoulders, crossing her wrists behind his neck, Jake’s hands wrap around her waist in automatic response. “I love you, Jake Peralta. For everything you are, exactly as you come.”

A slight blush begins to wash across his cheeks, and oh, how she just wants to kiss this ridiculous notion right off of his lips. “I love you too, Ames. You’re just … the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His grip on her hips grows a little tighter, and his voice lowers. “And I’m sorry if all of this sounded totally stupid, I just … want to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”

“Mission accomplished, babe. You’re everything I want, I don’t give two hoots what anybody else thinks.” Punctuating her sentence with a soft kiss, she rests her hands on either side of his neck and raises her eyebrows suggestively. “Now, why don’t we take care of this laundry so the bed is nice and clear, and then I can show you just how much you are the right person for me.”

“Noice. Just checking though … that doesn’t mean ‘throw everything to the floor so that I can immediately ravage my super-hot boyfriend’, does it?”

Cocking her head to the side, Amy grins. “You should definitely trust your instincts on that one.”

“10-4. We’re going to fold the heck out of this laundry.”

It’s a several years older Jake Peralta that fishes into his sock drawer one early afternoon, desperately looking for those just thick enough socks that he hasn’t seen in months but is sure he hasn’t thrown away. They’re tucked up right along the furtherest edge of the drawer, in a position that Amy’s engagement ring had once also called home, and he grins when his fingers wrap around the hidden treasure.

They’re a little less pink these days, having been through the wash several times since their re-colouring, but he can still make out the slight tinge when he holds them up to the light. Pulling them on with vigour, he makes his way back out to the living room to join his wife and son - knowing that both are looking forward to the start of their midday movie session - and also just as eager for some much-needed Family Time.

“Okay, made it,” Jake announces, lifting up the bag of candy he’d snagged from the kitchen as he’d passed, “and I brought snacks.” From his left, his son Mac looks up from his position snuggled into Amy’s side, and upon clocking Jake’s sudden appearance he beams (the kind of smile that just makes Jake’s heart soar, every. time.), scrambling in his clumsy toddler-esque style to climb onto Jake’s lap, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck in the very best way that his still so chonky arms will allow. Casting the bag of snacks to the side, Jake whispers “ready to watch the movie, little man?”, reaching out to tweak Mac’s button nose (a thankful inheritance from his mother) when he nods.

Turning his head further to the left as he wraps his arms around his son, Jake catches Amy’s eyes, noticing them sparkle as she takes it all in. Shuffling ever so slightly, Jake moves an inch to the left so that his left arm can rest on his wife’s legs, and she curls her fingers around his with one hand as she presses play on the remote with the other.

His crossed feet plonk onto the coffee table in front of him, and as he glances briefly at his socks before turning his attention back to the movie, Jake cannot help but think of the younger version of himself that had felt so insecure about his relationship with Amy. She is, after all, the love of his life (a fact that perhaps he hadn’t been ready to acknowledge back then, but one that was true within weeks of them dating all the same), and he was hers. Maybe if he’d been able to see that, he wouldn’t have taken the little things like a pair of newly coloured socks so hard.

Amy’s fingers squeeze his gently, and after glancing at her from the corner of his eye, Jake picks up on the fact that she’s just noticed his choice in attire. It would appear that the pink tinge is just as noticeable to her and it is to him - a fact that makes his heart more than a little bit happy - and when she tugs him a little closer he closes the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers in a chaste but loving kiss.

He cannot deny the smile that is growing on his face as they both pull away, returning their attention to the screen in front of them but keeping their fingers linked all the while. This right here, was everything that he needed - and undoubtedly, everything he deserved - and he genuinely cannot wait to raise Mac together with Amy, and show their son just how amazing the world can be when you always have love on your side.

#little throwback fic for kicks #dating peraltiago #with some bonus Mac action for good measure #I hope you like this!#tumblr prompts #b99 fanfic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago fanfiction

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