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books-of-the-great-leviathan · 1 year

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Chapter 1- The Nameless Girl

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Val paused, her broom stilling on the black flagstones, and listened to the faint boom of approaching wings.

Aiatar, she thought, drawing a slow breath. Aiatar crossing the sea border. The skies of Rashavir were ever alive with the churn of vast wings, but rarely were there so many at once, displacing the air and sending a spike of pressure through her head with each immense beat.

Down here, deep in the warrens of kitchens and sewers, passageways and slave-quarters, most couldn't hear the goings-on of the Aiatar high overhead. Val could. She always could, ever since she was a child. She was thirteen now, or thereabouts, and it had only become worse the older she grew. When storms were on their way her head ached, a deep pulse in the backs of her teeth. When the queen was conducting rituals she felt that too, and it wasn't pain then, but a place beyond it, a rushing, thrumming surety.

If there was a flight of Aiatar returning, in those numbers, with that much haste, it meant Val was going to feel that rush again, and soon.

It meant the queen was back in Rashavir.

High Queen Mazarin was ever absent from Rashavir, personally overseeing her two lower queens and the isles they held rule over, ensuring the Empire's power and with it her own. Val was beneath notice- grimy, gray-clad, with shorn hair and a permanent slump to her shoulders. Few guards out here on the barrier walls gave her a second look as she swept floors or raked out hearths or polished the storm crystal lamps until their blue-white light shone unimpeded. She liked to listen to them, their tales of sea-beasts vanquished before they could cross the sea borders, lightning gashing great hissing wounds in their glistening hide.

They had plenty of stories about Queen Mazarin, too. Every guard or soldier had a story about how they'd personally seen the queen call a maelstrom to rival the Leviathan's. Every Aiatar in the whole bloody barrier wall was the queen's personal friend, to hear them go on so, but Val didn't dare contradict them. Any slave would find themselves broken and bleeding if they spoke up against one of the Aiatar, and Val more likely so than most. There was a reason she kept her eyes fastened to the floor.

There was nothing wrong with her ears. Being beneath notice could be a powerful thing. She listened. According to the guards, Mazarin didn't just leave to go oversee her Empire. She left to gather whaleglass, to bring it in great raw slabs to Rashavir, to forge it into weapons for the Empire.

It wasn't whaleglass alone she brought to Rashavir. Sometimes slaves were taken. The queen's soldiers came in their sleek black armor, wings churning the air while the overseers kept their charges in line. Many times Val stood shoulder to shoulder with the others her age as the Aiatar examined them, straight-backed and elegant and unblinking before the lines of shivering children. They would gesture, and the overseers would wrest the chosen slave from their ranks, and bring them and the other chosen to the soldiers. Val never saw where they went after that, but she knew.

It was to the tower. It was to Rashavir itself.

"What do you suppose they do with them?" she whispered, once, to the other children. They'd been up late, crouching in the barracks, playing knock-me-down with pieces carved from pebbles and old gull bones, a circle of grubby children lit by flickering candlelight, ears pricked for the coming tap of an overseer's boots. "The ones they take."

"I dunno. Eat them probably." The boy wiped his nose off on his shirt. "Your turn."

Val had flicked her pebble. Bone pieces clattered. She scooped them up, weighing them in her palm. "Maybe they get to live up there," she said quietly. "Maybe they get to be free."

The other kids shrugged, but Val couldn't get the question out of her head. What do they do with them?

What?

She'd bent her head back to the game, but she couldn't focus, and later, couldn't sleep. Don't think about it, she told herself. Don't. That was dangerous, and even more so for someone like her. Time had passed, and the other children grew less kind as they understood the truth of what she was, and answers never came. She would never know what Queen Mazarin did up there, what she wrought with whaleglass and slaves.

Mazarin been gone a long time; Val wasn't sure how long, but even she could tell this was no simple tour of the Triune Seas nor uprising quashed. If she was back, Mazarin had returned with whaleglass.

Whaleglass.

Val looked up, the whisking echoes of her broom fanning through the still, frigid air. Her breath plumed as she exhaled. The hall arched around her, a vast vault of shadow. Before her rose the Sentinel. This was a spare; the active Sentinels crouched atop the barrier wall, facing the ocean, vast horned heads lifted against the sleet. They hummed, too, a deep and pulsing vibration Val felt in her bones like a coming storm.

Even in disuse, this one was mighty: a great winged beast, twin pairs of wings folded down its back, taloned feet and beaked head furred with a fine layer of dust, all carved from reflective black stone. An ornate collar had been sculpted round its neck, forming a V over its powerful chest. A socket gaped in the V, a round empty hole in its chest, big enough for Val to climb and curl up in.

A faint residue lingered in the socket. It shone the prismatic glister of oil on water, of starlight on silver.

Whaleglass. Its heart was whaleglass, and it was what gave it and its cousins life, what gave Rashavir life, the pulsing blood of Aiatar power. They held whaleglass, and with it, magic.

Val's fingers tightened on the broom handle. She was supposed to clean the Sentinel's chamber, keep the dust down, but she couldn't make herself move. She lowered her broom and stepped toward the Sentinel. In its black stone flank she saw her own diffuse reflection, her own wide eyes.

She reached out. She felt it, then- a spark, a jump. Her heart pounded, but her breathing stilled, the silence at once a watchful thing, presence and not absence. The pain in her head hadn't abated; she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. She caught a glimpse of herself in the Sentinel's flank and fear twisted her guts.

"Stop," she whispered, to herself, to the pain, to the thing inside her, deadly and damning. "Stop it."

But she could not look away. She could not lower her hand. Her fingertips hovered over the black stone.

"What's wrong, vala? Having your nightmares again?"

Val let out her breath. She counted to five, then lowered her hand.

The others surrounded her. Her head hurt so bad she hadn't heard them coming, but they were there nevertheless, crouching at the top of the steps, leaning against the walls. Each wore gray, like her. Unlike her, each was human: half a dozen children. All of them stared. The boy who'd spoken was maybe a year older, but the rest were younger, kitchen slaves or chambermaids to the soldiers posted on the seawalls.

Val flinched, huddling over her broom again. She was smartest not saying a word.

"Maybe she can't talk," said another child, a girl with dark curls. "I heard sometimes her sort come out wrong. No hands or feet, or no skin, or their backs crooked. Maybe she came out with no voice."

"I've heard her talk," said another.

"I heard her cry out in the night," said the first boy. "In the barracks. Whimpers and screams. Please, please, please. What can you have to beg for, vala?"

He spat the word like a curse. Val lifted her eyes, looking up at the boy through her ragged fringe. It may well have been a curse, coming from the boy's lips. He shared Val's brown skin and colorless hair, but his eyes were brown, too, unmistakably human. Val hadn't seen a mirror for weeks, had only caught glimpses of herself in water or in the reflective black stone of the walls, but she didn't need to get a look at her face to know why the other children stared at her with such searing disgust. It was a truth that would never go away, not unless she blinded herself, not unless she carved out her own eyes.

They were golden, same as those of the Aiatar, a damning, unmistakable mark of her mongrel blood. They were why the boy used the word he did, why Val had no proper name, why she worked down here in the dark and the dust.

Vala wasn't a name. In Aiata, it meant mongrel.

"I said," the boy repeated, "What can you have to beg for?"

"You to go away," Val muttered.

"What was that?"

Val shook her head. Each child carried something, she noticed. Wooden spoons. Brooms. One girl even had an oyster knife, a short spike of steel held between her fingers. The ache in her head had been replaced by cold terror.

Quiet, she urged herself. Just shut up. She tried to keep sweeping, but her hands shook on the broom.

The girl tugged at Val's hair. "This bit looks human enough. Like your mother, right? Who was she, anyway? Some chamber-slave?"

"I don't know," Val whispered.

"What was that?"

"I said I don't know," Val repeated, more loudly. She looked up again. "I never knew her."

That was half a lie. She had memories, but they were few, and not enough. Flickering, fleeting. A glimpse of light, as if a candle flame played across some distant wall. Warm arms, a dry whisper. A kiss pressed to her cheek. The tacky cold of drying blood. A cradle song, singing her to sleep. She wasn't even sure if it was real. She was a mongrel, and a slave. She'd come nameless, and nameless she'd remain.

The Aiatar were no stranger to humans; they bore them no ill will. They kept them, cared for them. They loved them. Val had seen countless high-ranking Aiatar with their human consorts, and none of them looked like slaves, dressed in sapsilk and fur, marked with deep blue tattoos and ornamented in silver, so each seemed swathed in moonslight. Some even wore whaleglass, prismatic crystal like trapped starlight, carrying inside it vast power.

The power of the Great Leviathan, Val knew, though she didn't really understand what that meant. All she understood was that there were the powerful, and then there was people like her. Might as well try to pluck the stars as bridge the gap between the two.

She was Aiatar. Half, anyway. Mixing their blood was like rubbing dirt on whaleglass. Not that humans were dirt, exactly. Their influence merely diluted the magic that was air and breath to the Aiatar, muddied it, rendered it base. It was that half that mattered, where Val was concerned. Many times she'd fancied her mother was consort to some Aiatar storm-master, or a hunter, tasked with the lofty goal of obtaining more whaleglass for his empire. Many times she'd imagined her mother arrayed in furs and silver, glowing like the triplet moons, as beautiful as any Aiatar queen. More than likely she'd been hurt by one and cast aside when he was done with her.

Consorts were protected, beloved. Slaves weren't so lucky.

"Careful." The youngest boy's eyes shone in the lamplight, reflecting its blue-white radiance. Trapped lightning, according to what Val had overheard. "She might have magic, and make your eyes squirt blood, or-"

"Magic," the curly-haired girl snorted. "Vala don't have magic."

She pushed Val. Val stumbled again, harder, nearly falling. "See?" the girl went on. "Nothing." She gave Val another shove, hard enough she lost her balance and collapsed to the cold flagstones. Her palms slapped the floor and smarted; tears ran hot down her face. Nausea churned in her stomach; her head seemed ready to crack.

Stop it, stop it, stop it-

She seized her hair in both hands and doubled over, rocking back and forth, salty tears thick in her mouth.

"Go away," she said. "Go away-"

"Or what?" A kick thudded into her side. She yelped. "You'll make blood come out my eyes? Maybe it should come out yours."

She glimpsed the spark of light off a blade. "Maybe we should cut out your eyes. Might be better for you in the long run, what do you-"

"I said go away!" Val's voice rose to a shriek, and so did the pain, a white slash inside her skull. Power rippled as blue light flared and lit the chamber, bright as day, bright as a lightning strike. Val's ears popped. Her eyes sprang open as the other girl screamed, as she was flung bodily off her feet and hurled as if by some massive blow, spinning through the air. She hit the Sentinel's flank, hard. Her head struck with a wet crack, and she crumpled, sobbing, to her hands and knees, kneeling like some ritual offering before the great stone beast.

Val scrambled back, scuttling into the corner, dragging her broom with her. "What did you do?" The first boy's hands curled into fists, his pose tense. The girl kept crying, horrible wracking sobs. Blood matted her hair, glistening on the wall behind her. "What did you do to her?"

"I don't- I don't know-" Val tasted blood in her mouth, bitter as the burst of power. Not just power. Magic. She'd tasted it before; sometimes the air was so thick with it she could barely breathe. Rituals. Searching. Deeper, deeper. Her dreams were full of songs that shuddered from black sea depths, and through them cruised something vast, something unknowable. Please, leave me alone. Lightning crackled through her nerves.

She sprang to her feet, shoving aside the other children. They got out of the way. She skidded up the steps, hurling herself down dark corridors. She didn't know where she was going; anywhere, anywhere but there. The bitter taste lingered in her mouth. It clung to her.

She swung round a corner and straight into a wall; her palms smacked slick stone. Breathing hard, she looked up. She'd run into a doorway, an arch in the stone. A fresh sob blurred her vision, and now the bitter taste was tears. The doorway was sealed; black stone filled the archway. Only Aiatar could open it. Only magic could.

I have magic, Val thought.

She blinked, then pressed her palms harder to the stone. She felt the reverberation of the waves, the ache of cold, and something else. Deeper. Inside the stone. Inside the wall, and further. A pulse, vast and slow and sleeping.

Deeper-

Light sparked behind her eyes. A prism in the sun.

More, and more-

There was a cracking, a grinding, and Val stumbled back. A seam appeared down the middle of the archway, and the door slid open.

Light, blinding after the darkness. Ice wind hit her like a blow; she shuddered, curling in on herself, holding a hand up against the light. Through the doorway was a long walk of icy stone. On one side the walk fell into a sheer cliff, spray leaping and crashing at its distant feet. Aiatar didn't need railings. The sea stretched to the horizon, a heaving expanse of iron-gray swells seamed with whitecaps. Veils of snow hung on the wind, and the stone under Val's feet was brittle with layers of crusted ice.

She shivered, teeth clenched, gripping herself and blinking in the light. The sun burned, a pale circle behind low-hanging clouds. There was no feeling in her feet anymore, but she didn't make a move to go back inside. She stared at the sea, then looked up, past the great bastion wall jagged as the cliff and guarded by Sentinels, past the gusting snow, her gaze climbing, her lips parted in awe.

Overhead loomed Rashavir itself- not just the sea-bordered barrier wall she stood on now, but the fortress, the halls of higher thought, the High Queen's tower, all, a vast spire of black rock standing like a monolith against the storm. Rashavir was the heart of the empire, the stronghold of Aiatar power. Snow flurried around it, like stars torn down and cast to the winds.

Winged shapes tilted and spun in lazy spirals: Aiatar in their monstrous bird forms, rendered tiny as gulls by the sheer scale of the spire. Five hundred feet, a thousand- she didn't know its height, that it was unnatural, it was magic, it had to be. Just like the trapped lightning inside the lamps was magic, just like the bitter taste of power on her tongue was magic.

She'd thrown that girl against the wall. She'd set her power free.

What had she done? What in earth and sky had she done? She'd never let it out like that. She'd never lost her grip. Vala don't have magic. They didn't. They didn't. They never did. They couldn't. It wasn't allowed.

What happens to them if they do?

It was her oldest question, the one she'd asked when she was too little to understand why it was dangerous to wonder.

What would have happened to me if they'd seen?

If they'd known?

If they'd-

A shout echoed up the steps, up from the tunnels. Fear splintered to panic. Val ran again, not blindly like before. Her heart knocked against her ribs, cold burning her throat as she gasped for breath. She stumbled down icy steps, past statues of many-eyed, many-winged monsters dusted with snow, past endless cliffs and the heaving sea. All the while the spire loomed overhead, jutting from the snow-mist like a monster from a cradle song. The queen was back. She was back, and Val had lost control.

What would have happened to me?

Val's stomach churned; her legs gave out. She fell against a statue. She barely felt her feet anymore; her face felt wooden. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't go back, either.

Val looked at the sea again, the crashing waves. Far out, past the islets jutting from the swells, spray burst into the air- the spume of some great sea-beast venting its lungs. The weak sunlight played off its hide, the long ridge of bone winding down its back. A great thing, and terrible. It dived again, and was gone.

Her breathing slowed. Her hand left the flank of the statue. She stepped toward it, toward the sea, toward the edge.

"What are you doing?"

Val froze. She whirled; her heart pounded again, blood flushing through her frozen veins. She stumbled, slipping; one foot skidded off the edge, into empty air. Her stomach swooped, and she clawed out, but there was nothing to hold onto-

A hand closed around her wrist.

Val jerked back, but the hand held her tight- a girl's hand, pale as the snow, and clawed with short, hooked black talons. They dug into Val's wrist, hard enough to puncture her skin. Blood welled, but Val didn't feel it. Her eyes traveled up the girl's arm- banded in engraved silver- and to her face. Moonslight-pale, wide forehead tapering to a pointed chin, small mouth with lips parted, showing the points of her teeth. She didn't look any older than Val.

Stupid, Val told herself. She might be decades older, centuries. Her black hair fell nearly to her hips, bound back from her face with ornate braids and more strange silver ornaments.

Her eyes-

They were golden as a hawk's.

Aiatar.

"You could have fallen," the girl said. She gently pulled Val back to safe ground. Her voice was high and silvery, her accent lyrical. She wore blue sapsilk with thick white fur ruffed about her shoulders, a heavy silver collar at her throat. She might have looked weighed down by all the fur and silver, but she didn't; she stood nearly a head taller than Val, straight-spined and steady. "That would have hurt. It's a hundred feet down to the waves."

"I...I'm..." Val remembered herself and bent her head, her shoulders shaking. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Why are you sorry? You should be happy you aren't dead."

"I'm not supposed to leave the tunnels. I..." I shouldn't even be speaking to you, she thought.

"By the great whale," the girl whispered. "It's you."

Val looked up. The girl stared down at her with wide eyes. "It's you," she repeated. "I thought I felt a flare of magic down here. I thought..."

Her hand crept to the silver collar at her neck. In it was set a shard of crystal, raw and unpolished. The weak sunlight caught it in glints and shards, flaring color from its facets: not just greens and blues, but flame-red and gold.

Whaleglass.

"Here," she said suddenly, and unhooked the collar. She thrust it toward Val. "Hold it."

Val blinked, then reached for the collar, its heavy silver tarnished in the etched lines, still warm from the girl's neck. She touched the whaleglass shard, forgetting the cold, forgetting her fear. It fluttered against her fingertips, like a tiny heart. Stars seemed caught in the crystal, and she felt she was not looking at it, but into it, down and down into unfathomable depths.

A pang rippled through her. As if in answer, the whaleglass pulsed. Not a pulse: a call, a cry, a deep vibrating strain of song played in her nerves, in her heart, in the matter of the world. The wind lifted her hair, the snow swirling around her and the Aiatar girl in a diffuse column, and for a moment Val felt a rush of power, bright and sure.

She let out her breath and lifted her eyes to the other girl's. The same color, she realized. Both of them the same.

"What's your name?" the girl asked, after a long pause.

Val found her voice. "Are you going to kill me?"

The girl laughed. "Of course not. I'm not my mother. Let's start that all over. My name is Tuija."

Val dropped to her knees, her face hot. "Forgive me-"

"Don't. Please don't." The girl gathered Val's hands and pulled her again to her feet. The unreality of it struck Val like a slap: Tuija, princess of Rashavir, daughter of not just an Aiatar queen but of the Aiatar high queen Mazarin, empress of the Triune Seas, commander of magic and keeper of the Whaleglass Vaults herself. Val didn't understand what half of that meant, but from the way the guards and masters spoke of them, and of Queen Mazarin, she knew it had to be important. "Listen. I'm not going to tell. I think-"

She cut off at once. "Please. All I want to know is your name."

Val licked her cracked lips. She tasted blood. "I don't have one," she said.

"What? How can you not?"

"I'm...I'm vala."

"Well, I'll have to find something better than that. What about-"

"No," Val said. Tuija's eyebrows flicked toward her forehead. "No. I...that's what I am. It's all I've got."

"Princess! Princess Tuija!"

The voice echoed from aloft. Tuija's eyes flicked skyward. "Quick," she hissed, and grabbed Val's arm, dragging her up the steps. "My nursemaid can't find me here."

"Nursemaid?"

She waved her hand. "My guard. Whatever. He's a bore. He wants me to go and greet my mother. She's come back, you know, and I- I don't like..."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Why wouldn't you want to go to the queen?"

A scream split the wind: the cry of a vast bird, echoing off the waves. Tuija shoved Val against the wall and slashed her hand through the air, leaving a trail of silver light in its wake.

"Hush," she whispered. "He won't be able to see us if you keep quiet."

A shadow fell over the steps. Val looked up as a vast winged shape parted the sleet, wings churning the snow to flurries. An Aiatar, in bird form. He let out another cry, then wheeled on one wing and swooped higher, climbing fast, becoming a ragged shape in the clouds.

"You want what?" Tuija asked Val, turning her head to stare straight down at her.

Val met her gaze. Heat flooded her cheeks, but she didn't look away.

"I want to meet the queen," she said. A flare lit her. She wanted, foolhardy and dangerous, she wanted. Her voice came out hard, came out strong. "To...to see what goes on up there. See the magic. The rituals. The whaleglass-"

"You want to see her forge a new artifact?" Tuija's pupils had shrunk to pinpricks, her golden stare unblinking. She lifted Val's hand. She still held Tuija's silver collar with its chunk of whaleglass. "You want to see how she makes...makes...these?"

"Yes."

At last Tuija blinked. A pang passed through Val. That was fear in her eyes, true fear, bright and haunting, an intensity Val had never seen before in an Aiatar. What reason would one of them, much less their princess, have to be afraid?

She took back the collar and fastened it around her neck, smoothing it in place. "Come on, then," she said.

Snow scattered. Val flinched back, shielding her eyes as darkness expanded from Tuija's back. No, not darkness. Wings. They arched, fanning wide, black feathers flecked with snow, twenty feet of them reaching for the wind. Tuija held out her hands. "Catch on."

"What?"

"You can't fly, can you? Catch on." She smiled, showing again her pointed teeth, and Val's face grew warm again. "Don't you trust me?"

Val let out her breath, then grabbed on tight.

Tuija swung her into her arms; Val yelped, the sound cut off as Tuija sprang into the sky. Those wings opened; the backdraft sucked Val's hair in and released it in a lashing halo round her head. Tuija drove her wings down and they spiraled into the air. Clouds whipped past, colder even than the air below. black rock rushed past, Sentinels and snow, and then nothing, nothing but howling wind and ice fragments sharp enough to bring tears to Val's eyes. She squeezed them shut, then opened them, and looked down.

The world spun. Below, she saw the black crescent of the barrier wall, the Sentinels crouched atop it, facing the ocean. More barrier walls became visible, arrayed in rings around Rashavir's central spire. Cloud scattered across the city, and her vision splintered, icy tears streaming down her cheeks. How many girls like her swept dusty floors? How many here, how many across the Empire?

Tuija spun, swooping toward the spire. Black walls rushed past, scraped to a blur, as they shot toward its pinnacle; smaller spires whipped past them, spear-points crowning their upper heights, gargoyles snarling from battlements. The spire's peak was a single dagger spike of black stone, crowned not in a point but in a single massive piece of whaleglass enclosed in a black-rock cage. The whaleglass hung within the cage, suspended in midair, light beaming through it like a prism and filling the clouds with unearthly radiance.

Its presence ached in Val's jaw, a hole in reality, a warp of power so strong it hurt. Val wanted to get a closer look, but Tuija wasn't headed for the spire's pinnacle. She half-furled her wings, slicing through an archway gaping in the spire's wall and into the arcade beyond.

Tuija let Val go. She collapsed, stumbling against a pillar and holding on. The wind sucked at her, as if it might be strong enough to fling her back out into empty sky.

Tuija folded her wings, and they collapsed in on themselves, vanishing back into her body and leaving tufts of black down behind.

"How..." Val panted. She reached out with a quivering hand. "How do they...do that?"

"What?"

"Your wings." She reached for Tuija's back, brushing away a tuft of down. It stained her fingers like ash. Val traced the line of her shoulderblade, the unmarked skin. Val looked up, into Tuija's eyes. The other girl watched her, a slight furrow between her brows.

"They're a part of me," Tuija said. Her voice was quiet, but there was something in it, something else. Surprise, maybe.

"They're beautiful," Val said.

Tuija blinked, then smiled.

"Come on. Hurry up." She grabbed Val's arm. "She'll be starting soon, and I don't want my nursemaid finding me with you."

Lightning lit the arcade, a flare of white; a bolt scarred the sky. Val gasped, and Tuija went paler. She clutched her whaleglass collar.

"Come on," she said again. "This way."

They threaded through arched hallways. Statues stood down the halls, vast carved panels stretching down each wall. Aiatar quelling sea-beasts, Aiatar resplendent, hands cupping stars, constellations etched in glistening black stone. Armies of Aiatar, drowning islands under the onslaught of captured storms.

Humans, kneeling at the feet of victorious Aiatar.

Humans, chained at the neck, at the arm and ankle.

They wound down spiral steps, down levels. Through arched doorways Val caught glimpses of rooms, of halls. In one, the skeletons of fantastic beasts hung from the ceiling, vast crested birds and platefish huge enough to swallow Val whole. A monstrous skull was mounted on one wall, its jaws agape, its tusks carved with arcane symbols.

Val pointed. "What's that?"

Tuija glanced at it. "Sea-ork."

"I didn't know there was beasties like that in all the world," Val murmured.

In another hall were shelves upon shelves of devices, silver and jet, gold and abalone and pearl, balanced end on end so they seemed to drift weightless in their settings. There were rows of seedlings under storm crystal lamps. Shards of whaleglass strewn carelessly across blue velvet. Arrays of lenses, feathers shifting color moment to moment, grand books open to inscrutable diagrams.

In every hall were humans. Sweeping ashes, polishing instruments, clearing out black down from where it drifted in corners. There uniforms were blue, not gray, but Val recognized the look in their eyes, the way they stared at the floor as they worked.

"There are slaves here, too?" she whispered.

"What? Yes."

"I thought-" Val cut off, but her thoughts churned. I thought all of us in Rashavir were consorts. Friends. Beloved.

"Over here." Tuija hurried to a balcony- a mezzanine, overlooking not the outside of the spire but a plunging central well, its heights open to the sky. Open to the whaleglass beacon, Val realized. Its light speared down and filled the air with its colors, flame-red and gold, green and violet and astral blue. Motes drifted in it, like stars. It touched the walls, sheer plunges of unworked rock, juts and crags sharp as blades.

Below spread the hall itself, a circular courtyard bordered by archways looking out into the storm. The floor was a deep, reflective blue, rippling with brighter iridescence and set with the firmament, creatures taking the place of constellations- a sea-ork impaled with blades, a great flaming bird, a horned beast with a mane of quills. In the middle, a raised dais stood empty.

The rest was filled with Aiatar. Not just Aiatar- humans dotted the crowd, easily identified by their shorter statures and broader builds. Val leaned over the railing as much as she dared, trying to get a better look. They held the arms of Aiatar companions, laughed and sipped from silver cups and smiled, ornamented and dressed in sapsilk, just as she'd imagined. Their faces were clean, their arms etched with tattoos, the same as many of the Aiatar.

Val stared, her eyes warm, her knuckles white on the railing. On reflex, she searched the crowd for her mother's face. Arrayed in silver, glowing like the triplet moons. She was not there, as she'd known she would not be there.

"Do they love them?" she whispered.

"What?"

"Their humans," Val said. "Do they love them?"

Tuija never had a chance to answer. Wingbeats boomed; a shadow rippled between the outer archways. An Aiatar swooped between them, in bird form: immense, its neck an elegant s-curve, its long, hook-beaked head crowned in a ruff of black feathers. It began to shift before its talons met the floor, folding in on itself, feathers becoming sapsilk and white furs and armor and snapping black hair. A woman dropped to the floor, bare feet pale against blue stone, her head held high, her clawed hands outstretched to her court.

Val didn't need Tuija to tell her who she was- she felt the power rolling off her even before she saw the chunk of unworked whaleglass in her hands. Queen Mazarin. She wore white on white, her beautiful face spattered with old scars, her arms banded in silver and ink. A crown rested on her black braids: a whaleglass circlet, pinned in place with spikes like horns.

Tuija sucked in a breath, but Val couldn't take her eyes off the queen, off the parting crowd, off the human brought forth, chained between a pair of Aiatar soldiers in black armor.

"My friends." The queen's voice rang through the heights as she made her way to the dais. "I return to Rashavir with a great gift. The greatest harvest for many decades."

She ascended the dais and lifted her chunk of whaleglass: a pure, translucent oval of it, so huge and so dense Val could see the flutter of the queen's muscles in her arms as she held it high. The light struck it, flaring shards of iridescence and bathing the hall in its radiance.

"The Leviathan takes away," the queen called. "But it gives, too, in return. Its cycle of rebirth has begun a strong one. May this prophesy an empire to last ten thousand years."

The soldiers pushed the human up the dais, pushed her to her knees. Val's hands tightened into fists- with her pale hair, her darker skin, she could only be another slave.

"Is this where they're taken?" she whispered. "The slaves the soldiers come for-"

"Stay down!"

The slave lifted her head. Tears streaked her face. The queen glanced down at her- not with hate, nor disgust, but with nothing. The slave wasn't alive to her, wasn't a person. She was a thing, that was all, and she had one purpose alone.

"Tuija, we have to-" Val half-rose. Tuija jerked her back. Val's wail was caught in her throat. All she could do was stare.

The queen lifted her hand, and her fingertips curved into black talons.

One slash ripped out the girl's throat. Blood spattered the blue floor, the map of the firmament, gouting in heartbeat pulses from the girl's ruined throat; she choked, spasming, spine snapping stiff as the Aiatar holding her let her go. She pitched forward. The bloodspray carved an arc across the dais, across the white sapsilk and fur of the queen's clothes, across her face, still and cold as a mask. It bathed the chunk of whaleglass, marring its iridescent surface.

Mazarin gave a cry, harsh and raw as the voice of her bird form, and thrust the whaleglass aloft. The sky lit white; a bolt of lightning struck the beacon high overhead, then seared down, a vein of pure power, blue-white and crackling with heat. It hit the bloody whaleglass in the queen's hands, turning it to light. Mazarin shook; the light wreathed her, it surrounded her, and it seemed to Val it was inside her too, like she was tearing into it, like she was gorging on it, light and blood and power and all.

As fast, the lightning was gone, leaving nothing but the smell of storms and bitter magic. Rain doused the queen: snow, melted by the heat. She stood in its fall, breathing hard, her eyes alight, the whaleglass steaming and smoking in her hands. It was no longer an oval; it had changed, transmuting into the shape of a massive sword, magnificent and terrible all at once.

"A fine weapon, indeed," she said.

Val backed away from the railing. Tuija's eyes followed her. "Where are you going?"

"That's what they do," Val whispered. All those slaves, all those years. Not just here. All across the barrier walls, all across Rashavir, all across the whole vast span of the Empire. How many had died? How many open throats had fed the queen's whaleglass weapons? Magic stung her lips, stung her eyes; she was crying, and tasted the salt on her tongue.

Had her mother died that way?

Had she died for the queen's power?

"The ones like me," she whispered. "The vala born with...with magic. Where do they go if they're found out?"

Tuija looked down.

"Where do they go?" Val cried.

"They kill them," Tuija said. "At birth, they kill them."

Val looked down: down, and down, to the barely-visible crescent of the barrier wall. She could just glimpse the form of a Sentinel down there, crouched on the battlements, staring out to sea. They came alive at an Aiatar commander's touch, to raze sea-beasts with blue fire, to turn skies and sea alike to baths of flame.

She looked back to Tuija. There was fear in the other girl's eyes. The same fear as the children below, with their knives and their taunts. Her own fear.

No, she thought. This isn't the way it should be.

"Take me down," Val said. She scraped the tears off her face with the heel of her hand. "Take me to one of the Sentinels."

"What?" The fear in Tuija's eyes became alarm. "No. No, you can't. That takes an Aiatar. That takes magic-"

Val stepped close, hands tightening to fists. "I have magic."

#tales of the great leviathan #grave of the great leviathan #original fiction #fantasy fiction #serial novel #chapter 1

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

The God of Magic just wants humanity to be happy and thriving;

Version 1, Good!Merlin

INTRO

(Version 2, Dark!Merlin)

“You’re late.”

From their place in the bushes, the gang can see a wide grin break out on the woman’s face as she raises an eyebrow:

“You’re always getting distracted by pretty flowers or interesting conversations, how was I supposed to know that you’d be on time for once?”

Her voice somehow sounds like an ocean in a storm, ear-splittingly loud as the sound cuts right through them to the core, but also a gentle stream, soft and clear and soul-cleansing. The gang struggle not to flinch in their confusion.

Merlin chuckles slightly, shaking his head as he softly replies:

“Ah, I see, you were expecting me to be late, so you told me to turn up half a candle-mark before you intended to get here.”

She raises an eyebrow and nods:

“In the hopes I wouldn’t have to stand around and wait too long,-”

She shudders slightly as her face falls, though she manages to look beautifully intimidating even with a slight scowl on her face:

“-you know how much I hate it up here, on dry land.”

Merlin nods. He looks around him passingly, and the gang tense as his eyes rove over their hiding place; their fear is quickly replaced with shock (and even more confusion) as it strikes them that they’ve never seen Merlin look so relaxed, so at ease. He finally looks back to the woman:

“Hmm. I may not agree with you on that, but I understand. I could have met you at Avalon, you know.”

The woman frowns even more, and the gang can see Merlin tilt his head in question, even more so when she replies:

“I... wanted this conversation to be private, away from the prying eyes and ears of Mother and our Siblings.”

Merlin’s shoulders tense, and Arthur can vaguely see the outline of his hands clenching tightly in his pockets as his cloak billows in a sudden wind. The knights, Gwen, and Morgana all look to each other in confusion, Merlin had never spoken of siblings before, in fact, they’re fairly certain he specifically told them that he’s an only child. This woman was so drastically different from Merlin in appearance, they couldn’t possibly be related by blood. Perhaps she means "siblings" in a similar sense to how the knights are brothers?

A tense silence passes between the two, but it’s quickly broken by Merlin letting out a deep, bone-weary sigh, his relaxed demeanour completely dissolved, and looking to the floor, mumbling:

“What’s this about, Ava?”

The woman, Ava, the gang now know, lets out a sigh of her own, tilting her head and waiting for Merlin to look at her again before speaking, her voice sounding more consistently soft the more she spoke, as if she needed practice to regulate her volume:

“I think you know, Em.-”

(”Em?? I guess that could be a shortened version of ‘Merlin’, but... not really.”)

“-Time is running out, existence is threadbare as it is, and only getting worse with each passing day. The world is splitting, cracking down the middle; magic is running thin-”

Everyone feels Arthur tense at the mention of magic, even more so at Merlin’s non-reaction to the word. Though everyone is already understandably on edge by the way the woman speaks as if the world is ending around them, and they hadn’t even noticed:

“-and we are starving. The fates of The Bane-”

Mordred manages to stop himself falling backwards, but his sudden shaky breath earns him a concerned glance from Gwaine, crouched besides him:

“-and The Darkness have been avoided, if you do not move forward now, then when? With every day you stall, you plan, you stand idly by and wait, we choke on the gaping emptiness of a world that is leaking.-”

Merlin holds up a shaking hand to stop her, his other running through his hair in frustration as he murmurs:

“I know, I know-”

The gang watches with tense, morbid curiosity as Ava cuts him off, her expression both annoyed and sympathetic:

“I don’t think you do, Em. You haven’t been home in years. Could you stand it? To be God of Magic with no Magic to be God over? No universe to hold dominion over?”

Merlin scoffs slightly and walks to the side in his frustration, and the gang can see the melancholy annoyance on his face, plain as day. It’s almost enough to make them forget that he visited Ealdor just last month. It’s definitely not enough to distract them from the fact that she had called Merlin a God. The God of Magic, of all things. What the fuck??:

“I don’t hold dominion over anything I just... am.”

Ava rolls her eyes:

“That’s not the point and you know it. Mother sent you to fix the problem, to stop the purge, to encourage the Once and Future King to bring magic back and start the Golden Age. He has been King for years, but you still act as a servant. You are a God, Em, assert yourself. You could fix the world with a click of your fingers, but you wait for the humans to do it for you.-”

Merlin interrupts her slightly impassioned speech with a deep huff and a shake of the head. From where he now stands, the gang have a healthy view of his side profile, and they can see the emotions warring on his face: frustration, grief, desperation:

“That isn’t... that’s not what I’m doing-”

She rolls her eyes again and the gang are vaguely aware of a distant crack of thunder as she gestures sharply with her hands:

“That is what you’re doing. You’ve become too attached to these... mortals.-”

She steps towards him, cradling his cheek in a soft, elegant hand as her face morphs to one of complete and utter sorrow:

“-You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak, Brother. Human lifespans, the lifespan of your precious Golden King, are but a blink of an eye compared to ours; they will all wither and die and fade from you, and you will be left with your grief forever.-”

Her other hand lifts to settle comfortingly on his shoulder, and the gang can see a single tear slip from Merlin’s lowered eyes:

“-Do what you came here to do, and come home, to Avalon, we miss you, Em, the family needs you back.”

Merlin stills for a few moments at her desperate plea, but then steps back, shrugging her hands off gently and wiping the tear from his face:

“No. I... I’m doing this properly. Mother understands my fondness for humanity, that’s why she sent me, and I’m going to do it properly.”

Ava huffs out a gentle laugh at his determined expression, shaking her head slightly in fond disbelief:

“How can you love them? These... humans, when they slaughter your creations, when they don’t even know what you are?”

Merlin smiles softly, his eyes gazing into the trees as he quietly responds, his voice full of enough adoration to take the gang's breath away, to temper the twinge of fear and betrayal that had been swelling in Arthur’s lungs:

"I love them because they don't know what I am. It's nice, to be human; to walk among them, being loved and hated and respected and touched as if I were not more than they could ever possibly comprehend. Humanity is... made of juxtapositions. Their existence is contradiction upon contradiction, weaved together and held with emotions so large I can scarcely understand how they're contained in such little bodies. I've been alive and watching them for millennia, lived side-by-side with them for almost three decades, and they still surprise me. To walk among them, to see them come to terms with this universe that We made for them, to see how desperately they crave knowledge, exploration, experience... it's beautiful. The way they love so fully, the way they find meaning and importance in every grain of sand, every ray of sun, every tuft of fur on every creature, it's humbling. It's astounding."

Ava has a soft smile on her face, looking as if she could listen to her Brother ramble about his love for humanity for decades. She shakes her head slightly, letting out a gentle sigh as she asks:

"Then why won't you save them? The Gods will starve without magic, but humanity will starve without the Gods."

Merlin pauses for a moment, his face scrunched in concentration as he tries to think of the right way to verbalize his thoughts.

The gang stare on in unconcealed bafflement; the realisation that Merlin is some kind of God brings less fear or anger than they think it should. Maybe it’s the shock, or maybe it’s the reverent way he speaks about them. Either way, they stay still and silent in their hiding place, and eventually Merlin’s face settles back into a soft smile as he looks to his Sister:

"I wish to see them save themselves, not because We need them to, but because they want to. Because their desperation to explore this universe will one day outweigh their misguided hatred of magic.-"

He nods decisively, repeating in a confident voice:

"-I wish to see them save themselves."

Ava sighs once more, stepping toward Merlin and putting her hand back on his shoulder:

“Your wishes may soon become... irrelevant. We’re dying, Emrys,-”

Arthur struggles to hold in a gasp at that. Emrys. He knows that name. Apparently it’s the name of a God, and not just some secret sorcerer who took a fancy to Camelot and deemed himself it’s protector. Lancelot’s eyes widen, though he manages to hide his shock well; no one else is focused on anyone else’s reactions, all internally freaking out.

Mordred is pale and breathing shallowly, being the only one in the group who had already known the full truth. Percival looks to be in shock, he grew up with the stories of Emrys, but to learn that Emrys was a God? That Merlin was said God? Not what he was expecting out of this little trip. Gwaine, Gwen, Morgana, and Elyan look worried, seeming to have pushed aside their shock in favour of being concerned over Merlin’s safety and sorrow. Leon stares upon the scene with scholarly-looking curiosity, hiding his apprehension and shock well. Arthur’s expression is... unreadable. Ironically, the only person capable of knowing what he was thinking just from looking at him was currently having an incredibly terrifying conversation with someone who is also presumably some kind of God(dess).

“-time is running out. I know that you don’t want to, but... it might be best to tell them the truth. You adore your humans because of their ability to love, do you not think they love you enough to forgive you your deceptions?”

Merlin clenches his jaw, and it’s the anguish on his face, paired with his almost-whispered words, that breaks their hearts:

“I... no. Just because I love them does not mean they love me back. I’m just a servant, Ava, I’ll never be important enough to be forgiven, God or not; I’ve lied to them for over ten years.”

She sighs, letting a tear of her own fall as she quietly responds:

“Emrys, you undervalue your worth, they don’t-”

“No. I don’t. You’re right, I have one life-time with them, with... with Arthur, and then I’ll lose them, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity grieving. I refuse to taint the already short time I have with them by having to watch them grow to hate me. I refuse.”

Merlin frowns as Ava rolls her eyes fondly, a victorious smirk on her face:

“If you would let me finish. They don’t hate you now, despite learning what they have just learnt, and you have yet to tell them of all you’ve done for them. Their love for you will only grow, Brother.”

Merlin tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. The gang take in a collective gasp at the realisation that she knows. And has likely known the whole time.

“What are you talking about?”

Ava’s smirk just grows, and she looks to the bushes the gang is hiding in, seeming to make direct eye-contact with a panicking Arthur as she speaks, he voice echoing unnaturally through the clearing:

“You can come out now.”

At her words, Merlin’s head whips around to stare at where she was looking. He opens his mind, allows his magic to stretch around him, and his skull is immediately full to burst with echoes of Mordred’s earlier, and ongoing, warnings, as well as the overwhelming presence of The (former) Darkness, The Once and Future King, and the others. He takes a stumbled step back, hand covering his mouth and tears spilling from his eyes as he becomes more and more convinced of... well... his time being tainted.

The gang stand and shuffle out of the bushes slowly, eyes trained on the floor and hands clasped in front of them tightly. It’s Merlin’s quiet, cracking “No...” that has them look up, paling at the absolute heartbreak on his face.

Lancelot and Gwaine give him weak, though genuine smiles, holding their hands out placatingly, but they halt their movements forward when Merlin just copies them pace for pace, moving away from them.

No one notices Ava rolling her eyes, not until she steps behind Merlin and puts a halting hand on his shoulder, stopping him from moving further away.

Merlin whips his head around, and another loud clap of thunder sounds out, much closer than the other one, quickly followed by a sudden downpour of frigid rain. The gang look to the sky in confusion, and Mordred desperately tries to reach Merlin through the mental link, offering comfort and reassurance; Merlin doesn’t seem to notice, the rain falling harder and harder as he almost fall to his knees, speaking in a desperate voice to his sister:

“Why... why would you... you know what this means. Why... why would you do this?! Ava?”

She rolls her eyes again, seeming to glow effervescently under the rivers of rainwater running down her face and over her clothes. She forces Merlin to turn and look at the gang, holding her hands on his shoulders to stop him from backing away (or collapsing in his grief) :

“Look at them, Em. Do they look angry to you? You should have some faith in the humans you claim to love so much. Look at them.”

Everyone in the gang gives Merlin varying levels of strained smiles; though Merlin, in his panic, is unable to tell that the strain is from concern and guilt, thinking that it was instead from hatred. He falls to his knees, his eyes shut tight enough to give him a headache and his hands clamped over his mouth in an effort to hold the sobs in.

Gwen and Morgana are the first to rush forwards, not paying the slightest bit of attention to Merlin’s... sister or the knights as they collapse to the floor in front of their friend, not sure whether to keep their distance or try to comfort the distraught man... God.

It’s his next choked sob that urges them to move once again, and the girls pull Merlin into a hug, tears of their own gathering at his agony. He freezes at first, then tries to pull away as lightening streaks across the sky, the violent bursts in sync with his choked breaths. When Gwen strokes a soft hand through his knotted hair, and Morgana pulls him further into her lap, muttering “We’re not leaving you, Merls, not ever, we love you.”, he relaxes slightly.

The thunder and lightening cease, but the rain still pours as Arthur stares over the pile of crying bodies to the woman, whose eyes seem to be growing brighter and brighter in the deluge. She stares right back at him, and The King jumps slightly when her voice echoes through her head, despite her still face:

“My brother has lost enough, please do not shatter his heart.”

Arthur nods once, before following Lancelot’s lead to the others, the rest of the knights not far behind them as Ava disappears. Whether she walked away without noticing or simply faded into the rain, no one knows, but no one really cares either. Soon enough, everyone is gathered around Merlin, stroking his back softly and whispering comforting promises over the sound of the rain. When Leon is the only one to notice Mordred’s eyes flash golden as he summons a shield above them, he simply shrugs his shoulders and refocuses his attention on muttering reassurances in Merlin’s head.

His breathing slows after a while, as does the rain, though everyone panics slightly when they see Morgana frown as she strokes the hair away from his face, revealing flushed cheeks and closed eyes. Mordred’s eyes flash golden once more as he presses a hand to his forehead, though no one lets the shock distract them for too long, latching on to his relieved tone:

“He’s just asleep, that would’ve taken a lot out of him. We should get him back to Gaius.”

The knights all stand, stretching and cracking joints to try and rid themselves of the cold stiffness that had settled in their soaked bones. Morgana stays on the floor, clutching at Merlin in her lap desperately, like he could slip away at any moment. When Arthur leans down to pick him up, she shoots him a glare, her own eyes glowing as the wind picks up once more, whipping through the clearing in an obvious warning. Arthur takes in a gasp, but shakes the surprise from his mind as he settles a soft hand on his sister’s shoulder:

“I... look, we’ll talk about this later, and I promise you’re going to be safe,-”

He glances up to an equally defensive looking Mordred:

“-all three of you, but Mordred’s right, we need to get him home and warmed up.”

Morgana hesitates for only a second, but the concern (and love) in her brother’s eyes sway her, and she nods, ever-so-carefully pulling her arms from around Merlin and helping Arthur get the younger (or... much much older) man situated in his arms before standing up.

The trek back to the castle is a fairly short one now they don’t have to worry about being quiet, and the rain has almost completely stopped by the time they make it to the citadel gates. It’s late, so the only people they come across are the occasional guard. But The King resolutely ignoring them as he carries his unconscious manservant through the corridors, his closest friends and advisors around him either openly crying or blinking away tears... well... it’s something that very much screams “DO NOT DISTURB US DO NOT SPEAK OF THIS IMMEDIATELY FORGET EVERYTHING YOU HAVE JUST SEEN”.

Elyan runs ahead to wake Gaius and warn him, so by the time everyone gets to the Physician’s chambers the fire is roaring, a patient pallet has been moved in front of the hearth, and Gaius himself is bustling around, preparing various concoctions and tinctures and blankets.

Merlin’s still shivering form is laid on the pallet, and Morgana shamelessly uses her magic to pull the heat closer and dry out his clothes. Mordred sits protectively close to the servant, one hand subconsciously close to his sword, the other resting on Merlin’s shoulder. Gwen settles between him an Morgana, and the knights figure that with her complete non-reaction to the magic... she probably already knew, she was smart like that. Gaius finally makes his way to Merlin’s side, tipping a gross smelling potion down his throat and running a hand through his hair, frowning worriedly down at his ward.

Not a single word had been said since they entered through the castle gates, and Arthur is the first to break the silence, sitting on Merlin’s other side, opposite Morgana, and settling an almost accusing expression on his sister:

“You knew, didn’t you?”

She looks up at him, somehow appearing powerful and intimidating despite being soaked through and shivering:

“I knew he was... powerful, I didn’t know he was a God.”

Gaius’ head whips around quickly, and Arthur is surprised at the questioning horror on his face:

“A God?? There must be some mistake, Merlin is powerful yes but he’s not-”

Mordred’s quiet voice interrupts him, though he doesn’t look away from the unconscious man as his fingers twitch over so slightly closer to the hilt of his sword:

“I knew. Though if I’d known he felt so... if I’d known how he felt, I would have spoken to him about it sooner, I apologise.”

Everyone looks at the group’s youngest member in shock, almost speechless, but Gwaine stutters slightly before clearing his throat and trying again:

“So... that was real, Merlin is a fucking God.”

Mordred nods absent-mindedly, eyes flashing golden as he presses his hand to Merlin’s forehead once again, frowning. Arthur’s brow creases in concern and he leans closer to Merlin:

“What is it? Is he ok??”

Before Mordred can reply, Leon speaks up, his voice tired, but strong:

“If he’s some... powerful God, then why is he hurt in the first place? Shouldn’t he be able to resist any sort of injury or sickness??”

Mordred shakes his head, finally looking away from Merlin to gaze at the group surrounding him. He looks doubtful at first, but when he sees the genuine concern on everyone’s faces, especially from Gaius and Arthur, he sighs and speaks softly:

“It’s difficult to describe. Merlin could access the full range of his power and do anything, if he wanted, but it’s draining and complicated when stuck in a human body. He himself is a God, yes, but this form is still vulnerable and mortal; he can get injured, and sick, he can die, or at least the body can. Merlin tends to repair this body when that happens, instead of moving on. He... likes it here.”

Everyone nods, understanding at least a little, though Gaius and Lancelot look the most shell-shocked. The room goes silent once again, and Percival, sat on the floor against the end of Merlin’s pallet with Elyan and Gwaine, is the first to speak, his voice shaking and sorrowful:

“He really thinks so low of himself. He’s a God... and he was terrified of the thought of us hating him, as if such a thing were even possible.”

Gwaine curses under his breath and Leon restarts his slow pacing around the room before he stops suddenly, turning to face the others with a look of anger on his face:

“Well of course he thinks it’s bloody possible. He’s right, we treat him like a fucking servant even though he’s one of our dearest friends, and half of us talk about the evils of sorcery on a near constant basis. He’s the God of Magic, of course he’d think we would hate him.”

Everyone is taken aback at Leon’s rage, though no one can deny that what he’s said is true. Leon is... quietly protective of everyone in the group, and it’s a time like this that reminds all of them that he had known Merlin just as long as Arthur had, and definitely held a certain brotherly affection for the younger (uh... yeah, whatever) man.

The older knight sags slightly, seemingly realising how exhausted he is, and pulls a chair up next to Arthur before collapsing in it, head in his hands. Arthur pats him on the back a few times before looking back to Merlin’s now thankfully not-shivering form, taking in a deep breath and nodding his head decisively:

“Well, we’ll just have to show him that it isn’t possible. I... we need to show him that he’s... important to us. Loved.”

Morgana just raises her eyebrow at The King, but doesn’t say anything as Gaius mutters a tearful “My poor boy.” under his breath. Elyan stands from his place on the floor, moving to perch on a bench behind his sister and setting a comforting hand on her shoulder as he softly speaks:

“He needs to know that we want him to stay here, with us.”

Percival shakes his head slightly, looking conflicted:

“Wouldn’t that be... cruel? That woman... Ava, was right. We’ll all grow old and die and he’s a God, he’ll live forever and he’ll grieve. Isn’t asking him to stay selfish?”

No one has an answer, and the room grows silent, everyone stewing in their own tense thoughts, trying to weigh the pros and cons, trying to measure exactly how selfish they were willing to be when it came to Merlin.

The sun rising over the horizon and peaking through the uncovered windows is what wakes everyone (bar Merlin) from their fitful sleeps. All of them had been plagued with odd dreams and nightmares through the night, so despite their exhaustion, they were grateful to be awake.

No one said anything though, waking one by one and pacing briefly around the room in an attempt to cure themselves of the aches gained from falling asleep in such awkward positions.

It’s still incredibly early in the morning, so thankfully none of them are needed for at least two more candle marks, but it’s Lancelot who breaks the silence first, clearing his throat and looking down at his best friend:

“It wouldn’t be selfish.”

Arthur looks up to him, noting the bags under everyone’s eyes and the tear tracks no one had bothered to wipe away:

“What are you talking about?”

The knight runs a hand through his hair, sniffling slightly and taking a deep breath before he stares around the room, making sure everyone was awake and paying attention as he spoke:

“For us to tell him we want him to stay, it wouldn’t be selfish. You heard him, he loves it here, he’s desperate to stay, he loves us. He still has at least thirty years worth of memories to make with us, and yeah, maybe that’s not a lot in the grand scheme of the immortal life of a God, but it’s more than the ten he’s already got. We can’t take that away from him. He... he wants to be here. Telling him to leave just to alleviate our own guilt... that would be selfish.”

Everyone looks a little doubtful, bar Mordred, and it’s him that Arthur turns to:

“Mordred? You knew... what he is, which we are still definitely going to have a conversation about by the way, what do you think?”

Mordred sighs, biting his lip for a moment before finally ripping his gaze from Merlin’s still unconscious, but now healthier looking body:

“He is more than any of us will ever be able to comprehend. You still see him as just Merlin, he is, but he’s also much more; he is Emrys, the saviour, the God, the Guiding Light. He is magic itself, woven into the fabric of the universe. He inhabits every space, and no space at the same time, he exists in every grain of sand, every drop of ocean, every speck of sky. To... to assume that he is not capable of deciding what he wants is an act of unforgivable hubris. If he stays, who are you to demand he leave and name yourselves selfish, when he has not deemed it so?”

Arthur pales slightly at Mordred’s words, as does everyone else. Gwaine seems to be taking it in his stride, and Lancelot seems less surprised than Arthur thinks he should (definitely something to question, but not right now), but before anyone can say anything, Merlin twitches, a low groan escaping his throat as his brows crease.

Everyone moves quickly, gathering around his bedside in a huddle. Morgana, Mordred, and Gwen are grateful to still be sat in their seats, and if they weren’t so busy worriedly leaning over Merlin they would be rolling their eyes at the way the others were pushing and shoving to be at the front. Gaius elbows his way to be stood by Merlin’s head, a cold compress in one hand and a grey looking potion in the other.

Morgana strokes a hand through Merlin’s hair and the frown on his face eases; he blinks his eyes open, swallowing before grimacing at the taste in his mouth and groaning again. Gwen leans over his head, smiling as she settles a hand on his warm cheek:

“Morning sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

Merlin just groans again, rubbing his shaking hands harshly into his eyes as he says, his voice dry and painful-sounding:

“Ugh. Like Arthur’s aim got miraculously better.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and flushes slightly, but before he can defend himself Merlin bolts upright, taking in a deep, ragged breath, eyes wide. Mordred focuses a concentrated expression on the side of Merlin’s head, but Arthur ignores it as he reaches forward, settling a hand on the dark-haired man’s shoulder and muttering his name:

“Merlin?”

Merlin’s breathing only gets deeper as he whips his head around to stare at Arthur. The blonde tries to smile comfortingly at him, but Merlin barely seems to notice as he scrambles back on the bed, only stopping when he comes into contact with Leon behind him.

Mordred’s face morphs into a concerned frown at Merlin’s terror, and now his tears, so instead of waiting for the man to calm down enough to let them explain, he rushes forward, grabbing the back of Merlin’s head and forcing their foreheads together before he can pull away. He shuts his eyes tightly, muttering some sort of incantation under his breath. Merlin gasps loudly and Mordred groans, holding their heads together for a few moments before collapsing back into his seat, clamping his hands over his eyes as if trying to press a headache away. Merlin slumps back against the warm body behind him, and Leon just about manages to catch him in strong arms before he falls to the floor.

This had all happened in the space of a few moments, and when the two of them still, the others unfreeze. Arthur turns on Mordred:

“What did you do?? What was that?!”

Mordred groans again, looking up blearily, first at Merlin, who seems to be in a similar state to him, leant against Leon, and then to Arthur:

“He wasn’t calming down, so I shared my memories. From when we met at the edge of the forest yesterday, to just before he woke up. It’ll take him a little longer than me to sort through them.”

Arthur nods and Morgana looks impressed, and everyone looks to Merlin again, waiting for him to pull the hands from his eyes and talk to them, look at them, anything.

He finally seems to relax his muscles and Leon rubs his hands up and down his arms softly; despite the fact that he’d been warmed by the fire, the knight was still oddly worried about Merlin being too cold. He lets out a deep breath, lowering his shaking hands as he slowly raises his teary gaze, staring at Arthur:

“You... you want me to stay?”

Arthur ignores the tears dripping down his cheeks as nods desperately, forcing a soft smile on his face as he sniffles:

“Yes. Please. We don’t want you to go, we don’t hate you.”

Merlin launches himself at Arthur and the only thing stopping The King from falling back from Merlin’s surprising weight is Percival’s hand on his back. Arthur wraps his arms tightly around Merlin’s middles, turning his head to press a kiss to the other man’s temple as he tries to get his tears under control; he completely ignores the others in favour of muttering into Merlin’s hair:

“It’s alright, Merlin. You stay here, with us, as long as you want. We... I, love you. Stay, please.”

Merlin just sobs harder, gripping the back of Arthur’s tunic as he kneels on the bed, his response stuttering and barely understandable:

“But- but I’m-”

Arthur just hushes him, stroking a hand through his hair and giving everyone else in the room pointed looks. They all crowd around Merlin again, placing comforting hands on his back and shoulders and arms and hands. Mordred whispers his adoration in Merlin’s head, and Morgana presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, all in the hopes of convincing him that the memories he had were true.

His breathing finally calms, and Arthur shuffles to the side so he can sit down next to him, not daring to remove the arms from around his neck or push him away. Merlin pulls away himself when Arthur settles, but doesn’t move far, and there’s no space between them as he hastily wipes the tears from his face, staring at him lap, cheeks flushed. Arthur takes his hand slowly in his, but Merlin still doesn’t look up, so Morgana kneels in front of him, placing her hand on his knee softly and saying with a teasing smirk on her face:

“You know, if I’d known that my teacher was The God of Magic, I might’ve complained less at the studying you make me do.”

Merlin finally looks up at her, a weak smile on his face, and Morgana winks at him. It’s Gwaine who tries next, settling on Merlin’s other side and sighing loudly:

“Forget the God thing do you know how many pranks we could’ve pulled if you’d told me you had magic?? Can’t believe you’d take that opportunity from me, all of you.”

He gives Mordred and Morgana jokingly offended glares and they roll their eyes, though their attention is quickly drawn back to Merlin, whose hands are clenching tightly in his lap. The room goes dark all of a sudden, and a glance to the window would tell them that the clear morning was suddenly overcast, thunder rumbling in the distance as rain slammed against the glass. Arthur squeezes Merlin’s hand and quickly, though gently, shoves Morgana out of the way, kneeling in front of Merlin and lifting his chin with his free hand:

“It’s fine, Merlin. We’ve all got a ton of questions but everything’s going to be alright, I swear. In fact, I’m glad we found out, it was cruel of us to make you live in a kingdom where you aren’t accepted, but that changes now, I promise.”

Merlin stands suddenly and walks between them, taking a deep breath before turning suddenly a scowl on his face:

“It wasn’t her choice to make, it was mine, and she took it from me.-”

With every harsh the thunder grew closer and the glass in the window frame shook more violently:

“-I was going to tell you after you changed your mind about magic because it had to come from the heart. You can’t change the Kingdom just for my sake! I wanted to do it properly and she took that from me because she was bored!”

Everyone rushes to say something in an effort to calm him down, both for the safety of the windows and his happiness, but Arthur’s blunt-

“Why?”

-stops them in their tracks. Merlin looks to him sharply, though Arthur is grateful for the thunder quietening down as he replies:

“What do you mean why? Why what?”

Arthur huffs out a gentle laugh, shaking his head in disbelief:

“Why can’t I change the Kingdom for you? You’re important, you’ve touched so many lives in so many wonderous ways; that in itself tells me that magic isn’t evil, so why can’t I change the Kingdom for you?”

The thunder stops and the rain slows to a gentle patter as Merlin tilts his head, his scowl of anger morphing into a sad, confused frown as he responds in a small voice:

“But... I’m just a servant. You’re not doing it out of fear, so I’m still just... nobody important.”

Arthur just laughs again, walking towards Merlin and settling soft hands on his shoulders, grateful to feel the others close to his back:

“You have never once been just a servant, Merlin. Something tells me you’ve been saving my life, and this Kingdom, since the day we met, so even if it had no effect on anyone else whatsoever, I would still change the law. Because you are a good man, and you are important, and you deserve it. Compared to you, it is us, who are just human.-”

Merlin frowns again and Arthur rolls his eyes to stop him arguing:

“-Just... give me another hug, and accept it. You idiot.”

He can feel someone (probably Morgana) thump him on the back, but he doesn’t turn around, eagerly returning Merlin’s hug when the brunette wraps his arms around Arthur’s middle tightly. The King presses closer, uncaring of what his audience thinks of him for the first time in his life (probably because he has a feeling that they’ve known of his... affections, longer than even he has) and mutters his question into Merlin’s ear:

“We... I love you, Merlin, more than anything. Will you stay with me?”

The King is vaguely aware of his First Knight whispering “I told you so, idiot.” behind him, but all he cares about is the sensation of the God, more ancient and powerful than anything he could ever comprehend, nodding into is neck.

THE END!!

I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope y’all like it!!

Link to the Dark!Merlin version (I warn you, it’s hella angsty) is at the top!! :)

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otptings · 3 years

Text

You Deserve It

slightly Tsundere!Taeyong

-angst (argument) , smut ( head f receiving, face fucking, emotional sex, unprotected (please wrap it before you tap it)talking during sex)

angry/makeup sex loosely based off of this post,

“I fucking hate you.” I stared at Taeyong, eyes filled with tears. I can’t even remember how this argument started. Same argument, different day. I’ve never said I hate you before, but all of my emotions came boiling over and I need him to feel my pain. He’s just been so nonchalant about everything recently.

We weren’t always like this. The constant arguments, and crying. Screaming at each other for hours on end, until he walked out of the apartment. Stale mates for days until we made up or had another argument, and the cycle repeated. It was tiring and I was tired of not knowing the person who I went to bed with every night.

Our relationship started off so sweetly. He confessed to me during our 3rd date. I remember the sun was so bright in the sky, beaming down on us. We were at a beautiful restaurant sitting on their terrace enjoying the warm weather. Taeyong was nervous, he complimented about 10 times while handing me the beautiful bouquet. I remember my face burning constantly because he was so sweet. The way he held every door open for me, and pulled the chair out for me. We laughed for hours over our food, just enjoying each others company. How he stopped eating and started up a whole speech just to confess to me.

He wasn’t truly my type. At least that’s what I thought so. My past relationships spoke for themselves, all of them being rude, cocky assholes. However, the boy with the pink hair who couldn’t meet my eyes caught my heart.

I couldn’t help but accept his confession. He was so incredibly sweet, and extremely attractive I’d have been stupid to reject him. He was a gentleman in every sense of the word. Our relationship was perfect or so I thought.

I’d sneak into the music building to bring him coffee, we’d talk in the studio as he excitedly showed me his beats, and lyrics that he was working on. Sometimes I’d walk in on him and his friends as they were recording, and would hear how as soon as he stepped into the booth he exuded confidence. Every time I walked into the studio he would look up at me, his eyes bright and doey as he made eye contact with me. A smile blooming over his face, as he came to me and pulled me into his arms. Always placing a kiss on my right then left cheek in that order.

He’d come to the library if I forgot to answer his texts. He’d always bring me a fruit smoothie because he knew that I couldn’t have caffeine. Sometimes he’d bring the smoothie along with food, or a snack because he knows that I tend to forget my meals. He’d made some noise before he approached me because he knew that I was jumpy when I was focused. Sitting down beside me he’d wrap his around me. Telling me jokes causing me to cover my mouth to hold in my laugh. Once we even got kicked out of the library because Taeyong kept on telling me telling cheesy pickup lines, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

I don’t know how our relationship became this way. I don’t know what I did to make him stop caring, or when he stopped caring. If I could’ve even stopped it from happening.

“Bedroom now.” I wanted to fight him. Tell him that I refused to listen to him if he didn’t care about our relationship. The other part of me, a different part of my brain knew that this was potentially the last time. The last time of me feeling his love, even if it isn’t truly his love.

Walking to the bedroom I took a glance behind me to see that Taeyong was staring at me. His eyes were full of fire, and I quickly opened the bedroom door and closed it behind me. I didn’t know what he wanted me to do besides this so I just sat on our bed.

Looking at the night stand I saw the picture of me and Taeyong from one of our last dates. Before we became like this at least. We were at the amusement park for my birthday trip. His arm is wrapped around my waist, and my arms are thrown around his neck. I have a big smile on my face as I look at the camera, and Taeyong was staring at me. Love shining in his eyes. I wiped the tears away and looked at the door right when Taeyong walked on.

Any sadness I felt was gone. The tension in the room became incredibly thick. Taeyong pulled his shirt over his head, before making his way over the bed. Grabbing my neck Taeyong pushed me back on the bed, placing my head below where our pillows were.

Without even talking Taeyong pulled my shorts and panties down in one go, tossing them across the room. Taeyong glared at me, a silent warning to not move, before releasing my neck and spreading my legs.

Taeyong got closer to my pussy, letting his breath ghost over it but didn't make any move. I whined and reached for his hair, but he smacked my hand away. “Don’t touch me.” Contradicting himself he instantly attached himself to my clit. Sucking on my clit causing me to let out a loud moan. I prayed that my neighbors weren’t home.

Taeyong lightly bit my clit causing me to hiss from the pain, before running his tongue over it. Taeyong’s tongue moved lower, yet never stopped moving or even slowed. Swirling in and around my hole I couldn’t even begin to contain any of my moans.

“Fuck Taeyong please.” I didn’t even know what I was begging for. I just felt overwhelmed not having him touch me for months, to suddenly him teasing me, constantly moving between my hole and my clit, giving them both equal attention. I didn’t know if it was because of how aroused I was or because of Taeyong’s spit (both) but I could feel myself dripping.

Without warning Taeyong inserted two of his fingers into my pussy as he sucked on my clit. I moaned as I reached for the pillows behind my head, desperate for something to hold on to. Out of reflex I felt my hips lift off of the bed, but Taeyong took his hand that was holding my thigh and pinned my hips down.

I felt the fire in my stomach start to grow intensely when Taeyong suddenly pulled away. His fingers never stopped moving, as he stared up at me. Anger and lust present in his eyes. Taeyong’s glare had me so overwhelmed that I came with a loud moan.

Taeyong never still didn’t stop moving his fingers, continuing his ministrations helping me ride out of my orgasm. As I finally started to come down, I could feel the overstimulation setting in when he finally pulled his fingers out. Tapping them against my lip I opened my mouth. Sucking off all of essence from his fingers, I swirled my tongue around them making eye contact with him. Tae whispered a fuck before pulling his fingers out.

Taeyong quickly took off his sweatpants, before changing our positions so he was laying down and I was in between his legs. Taeyong was pretty in this position. Looking down at me, hand gripping my hair as he held his tip to my lips. He was incredibly hard, his tip flushed red from the adrenaline of our argument still flowing through him.

“Open up. Time to put your pretty mouth to good use.” Opening my mouth I made my jaw relax and let him use my throat. His thrust started off slow, but soon he quickened his past. I breathed out through my noise, feeling the tears coming to my eyes. Drool came out of my mouth every time he thrusted him, and I could feel him hit in the back of my throat. I held my thumb in my fist tightly, trying to keep my gag reflex at bay.

Taeyong slowed his thrust and grabbed me by my throat again pulling me towards him. I straddled his lap when he grabbed my face and caressed it softly, looking in his eyes I saw that the anger had died down. For the first time in weeks he kissed me.

Our lips move in sync. I felt the tears streaming down my face, knowing that this was going to the last time. The last time we kissed, the last time we have sex, the last time I held him in my arms. Pulling away from the kiss Taeyong grabbed my face with both of his hands and wiped away my tears. “Baby I'm so sorry.”

Taeyong started peppering kisses over my face, I felt my heart swell with joy. It’s been so long since he’s treated me like this, as if he cared that it only made me cry harder. “I’ve been so stressed out with everything recently that I’ve been taking it out on you. I’m sorry I never meant to treat you like that, and I know it doesn’t make up for my behavior but I’m gonna try so hard. I’m gonna treat you the way that you deserve, I love you so much.” Taeyong kissed me on my lips again. I felt butterflies in my stomach, even after 3 years, and this near breakup he still makes me feel the same way.

“I love you, I'm so sorry I don't hate you. I just wanted to make you feel my pain.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, I'm so sorry. Can I show you that I'm sorry?” Nodding my head Taeyong held me up by my hip, and held his dick so that I could lower myself down on him.

After not having him for months, the stretch was almost too much. After I got halfway down I laid my head on his shoulder. “You’re doing so good baby.” Taeyong suddenly thrust up causing me to wrap my arms around his shoulders and dig my nails in his back. I whispered a quiet fuck as he apologized before thrusting up in me again. This time the pain lessened and I could only feel pleasure. Holding onto his shoulders I slowly started riding him. Swirling my hips occasionally to get friction on my clit.

Taeyong’s grip on my hips tightened and we made eye contact as I rode him. My breathy moans with his low groans filled the room along with the sound of skin on skin. I clenched around him causing him to let out a loud fuck, and I did it again to tease him.

Taeyong flipped out positions making sure that my head was resting against the pillows before he slid back in. My legs over his biceps as he held onto my wrist and thrust into me slowly. From this position he was hitting deeper then he was while I was riding him. I could feel his cock dragging against my walls better and I felt my head slowly start to get floaty. The only thing on my mind as he quickened his thrusts was him.

“Fuck baby you feel so good. It’s been so long.” I nodded my head,

“Too long I missed you.” Taeyong moved his grip to my thighs pushing them further down so that I was almost bent in half. His thrusts slowed down again, but he made sure that every thrust was powerful and hit deeper than the last. I felt him rub against my sweet spot with every thrust. Him pulling out until only the tip was inside before he thrusting so deeply that I could almost feel him hit my cervix.

“I’m so sorry, I love you.” Leaning down to me, Taeyong met my lips again and started to jack rabbit into me. Every time he hit deeper, and his hips meant mine as he thrust. I could feel the fire in my stomach growing at a quicker rate. Along with his steady pace I knew that I was going to cum soon. Grabbing his hand I intertwined our fingers, feeling the knot getting tighter and tighter.

“Fuck I'm gonna cum,” I felt tears coming out of my eyes, the feeling of him consistently hitting my spot along with my previous orgasm had my eyes closing him from the please.

“Cum for me baby.” His free hand reached down to rub my clit, and I felt my orgasm hit me full force. My eyes closed as I came with Taeyong's name on my lip. Taeyong continued to thrust helping me ride out my orgasm, before I felt his thrust stutter, and felt him coming inside of me. I felt his warm come fill me up as I felt my self go in and out of consciousness.

I flinched awake when I felt a warm rag rub over my face, and pussy (in that exact order). Opening my eyes I saw Taeyong look apologetic as he cleaned me up, and threw the rag on the floor before climbing into bed beside me. Pulling the covers over the both of us Taeyong pulled me into his arms so my head was resting on his chest, and our legs were intertwined. I listened to the beat of his heart as I lulled off to sleep. The last thing I heard was Tae promising me.

“I promise I'm going to give you the world. You deserve it.”

#Taeyong smut #Taeyong #taeyong dom #nct #nct 127 #nct taeyong #nct smut #nct 127 taeyong #nct 127 smut #nct one shot #nct 127 oneshots #Kpop smut #Kpop angst #nct 127 angst #nct angst

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glitxhwayventeen · 3 years

Text

A Different Kind Of Love…

Wonwoo: Chapter 2 (All I Ask)

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut (it got dirty fast my bad), breeding kinks, creampie, oral sex (female), pet names, dirty talk, biting (but y’all knew that this was a wolf fic so you should’ve been known about that one), angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, cheating (maybe?), violence mentions. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to All I Ask by Adele. The song just has this need to it that I was trying to convey in this chapter. It was just really… necessary.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

Some 🥀, a little ☁️ towards the end, but mainly 💋

A Different Kind Of Love… Master List

Chapter 2: All I Ask

“What- what do you mean you aren’t ready for it?” Wonwoo asked, still so completely stunned at your last remark, he was unsure that you had actually said it.

You had moved to his room as you wanted to head back inside once it had started to rain. He ran his hand through his damp hair in frustration before he looked back to you for an answer.

“I mean, your girlfriend JUST tried to kill me in a fit of jealousy. But I thought SHE was your mate, not me. I’ve- I’ve never even been in a relationship before. How am I supposed to just jump into one with you when yours isn’t even really over yet? Everything’s too… messed up” You explained, sitting down on his bed, brushing out your soaked locks with your fingers.

“I know it’s not really… normal. But we’re wolves. None of what we do is normal…” Wonwoo tried to reason as he resettled his glasses on his face after having cleaned the water droplets off of them.

“No it’s not. But being a wolf doesn’t give me the right to be a home wrecker. How am I supposed to be with you knowing that I’m the reason your relationship is ending?” You questioned, tears starting to brim your vision when you looked down at your hands to distract yourself from your anger at the entire situation you found yourself in, “I don’t want to be the cause of someone else’s misery. Even if I never really thought she was a good person, Song deserves better than this. I mean, have you even broke up with her yet?” You managed to whimper out.

“Of course I did!” Wonwoo defended himself, “Or at least, I thought I did. I didn’t necessarily say those exact words, but she knows she fucked up too badly to continue coming back here.” He spoke, seeming to be trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

You scoffed in annoyance and crossed your arms over your chest in a huff.

“So you didn’t ACTUALLY end things with her? See this is what the fuck I’m talking about! You ARE just as confused as I KNOW I am. How the hell are we supposed to be with each other? I refuse to just be some sort of mistress to somebody, even if my instincts are telling me otherwise. Whether you’re my mate or not, I can resist them” you declared, looking him dead in the eyes with complete seriousness.

“But I can’t! I’ve been trying. It’s not working! I’m already in love with you. I don’t care what happens with Song. Sure I’ll always care about her because of everything we’ve been through together, but I love YOU. I want YOU.” He responded, getting closer to you on his bed and taking your face in his hands.

Your heart started to race at the minimal contact. His hands were so warm and soft, you could’ve just started to melt into them with ease. Usually you’d have asked for your space, but you felt comfortable with him touching you. In fact, you loved him touching you. It had been SO hard for you to stay away from him during your stay, you truly wondered how you were able to keep from going insane.

“I know you can’t fight it for much longer. I know your heart speeds up when I walk into the room. I know you can’t think when we’re in the same room. I know that you look at me like I’m the only reason you wake up in the morning.” He continued as he started to stroke your cheeks with his thumbs.

“I know you feel the same dizziness I feel whenever you get close to me. I know that me touching you sends lightening through your every vein because that all happens to me whenever I’m with you. I don’t care about anything else anymore. I just want you to be mine already. I NEED you to be mine already.” He said in desperation while biting his lip, still holding your decision torn face between his hands.

He was tired of having to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night to rub one out from sheer thought of knowing you were in the next room behind Song’s back. He NEEDED to actually have you soon or he was worried he’d physically explode. He was about to start his rut and, although he’d NEVER EVER guilt or push you into having sex with him for it, every part of him was begging to touch you to relieve the aches he was beginning to feel. He was hoping if he could calm your anxieties about the situation that you’d want him as much as he’d want you. He already knew he had an affect on your more than you were willing to admit.

A deafening silence started to overtake the both of you. You didn’t want to start anything with him until things were sorted. But God, you wanted the same thing as he did. It made you sooo angry to see him with Song, but you didn’t understand why until now. Now, knowing he was your mate, you realized it was the primal jealousy you held from another woman being that close to him. You had wanted him from the very start, but you always had to hold yourself back out of respect for their pre-existing relationship.

You weren’t really sure where they stood at that moment, but you were starting to not care. Him being so close to you and not actually touching you where you wanted him to made you feel like you were going to catch fire. He smelled like Heaven, and his slight touch made you begin to lose your better judgement. His presence was started to cause a pool of arousal to form in your panties.

He was the first one of you to speak up again, “I know we still have so much to figure out.” Put it out of your head. No matter how much you need him and his plush lips right now.

“And I know that you’re worried about feeling guilt over Song,” Don’t do it. Control yourself!

“But please, if there’s any guilt let it be all on me.” You’re gonna regret it, no matter how phenomenal he smelt. You’re stronger than this. RESIST.

“A- All I Ask is that you at least give us a chance before-” Oh Fuck it, you thought before you quickly interrupted him with a passionate kiss, stopping him from speaking any further.

He was clearly dumbfounded by your sudden actions that had contradicted your previous statements. Even so, he reciprocated immediately anyways, kissing you so roughly that your teeth clashed together. Everything that followed happened in a blur.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it upward. He caught your hint quite fast and all but tore his shirt off, barely even breaking the kiss in the process.

You then locked your hands behind his neck and jerked him as close to you as you possibly could, raising yourself to your knees in the process. He growled lowly before he ripped your shirt from your body, leaving you in just your shorts and bra.

He put his hands on your hips and pushed you down on the bed. He threw his body to hover over yours and feverishly reattached your lips. Your tongues started fighting for dominance, though he inevitably won the battle.

Your wrapped your right leg around him and attempted to use it as leverage to grind against his pelvis, needing some sort of friction to satisfy the growing hunger between your legs. He groaned into the kiss before he pulled himself back.

He gave you a dirty smirk before he grabbed your leg and used it to push you up the bed slightly, giving him better access to your shorts. He slid them and your panties off in one go before he lowered himself down to your heat.

You soon felt his lips attach themselves to your clit, he drew in one harsh suck that drove you crazy. Your hands found their way to his hair and you tugged at the locks, letting out a high pitched whine due to his action. He repeated it a few more times, just to be an tease. He liked watching you squirm because of something he had done. It made him feel powerful, and you looked fucking gorgeous while doing it.

After he was done with his little game, he had his tongue run up and down your slit before he thrust two fingers into your tight entrance, knowing he had to stretch you so he could have you the way he really wanted to. This caused you to take in a breath of air and gasp loudly. It was music to his ears. He didn’t even mind the death grip you had on his hair, it just egged him to keep going.

He started to scissor his fingers before he added a third into you. It was getting harder and harder for you to control your volume, if the others could hear, they’d be deaf by morning. He was making you feel so good, your legs had started shaking. Before you knew it, they locked around his head and your vision went white.

As you came back down to Earth, you started to become sensitive from the orgasm you had just had. Wonwoo was still licking and sucking at your bundle of nerves, the feeling hurting so bad but so good. You let him continue his actions for a bit longer, jerking every now and then from your vulnerability.

Eventually. the overstimulation got the best of you and you started to push away from him, earning a smirk and small chuckle from him. He wiped his mouth off before he stood up and brought his wet fingers to his lips, cleaning your release from them.

Watching you come undone so easily beneath him had his cock begging to be released from it’s restraints. So he quickly rid himself of his jeans and boxers he was wearing. You had propped yourself up on your elbows and licked your lips when you saw his member bounce back to his abs as it was freed. God, he was huge. You absolutely could not wait to have him inside you.

You motioned for him to come back to you, which he did gladly, crawling his way back up the bed. You grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and crashed your lips back to his again, tasting what remained of your juices on his tongue. The kiss continued as he slowly lowered you to lay back down on your back.

He moved his mouth down to your neck and began to leave small love bites, earning little mewls from you. He had used his left hand to steady himself and used his other to unhook your bra, getting a full view of your chest. He trailed his bites down to the mounds of your breasts before he took one of your nipples in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the bud, flicking the other nipple with his fingers so it wouldn’t be left out.

He unlatched his mouth from your breast with a small ‘pop’ sounds and started kissing you again, grabbing his member in one hand and smearing the beads of precum that had gathered at his slit down his shaft. He began rubbing his tip up and down your opening, partly to tease you and partly to give you time to back out if you wanted. He halted the kiss, earning a small whine from you which caused a proud smile to appear on his face.

“Are you sure about this (Y/N)? We can stop if you want to” he said as he pushed some stray hairs behind your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

“Yes I’m sure. Now PLEASE just get inside me before I scream” you joked, sort of anyways, placing a peck on his nose. You thought it was sweet how much he cared about your comfort, but you serious just needed him to plow you like a corn field.

He positioned his tip at your entrance before he stopped one last time to look at you asking for approval, to which you nodding your head gently. You grabbed his biceps, readying yourself for the pain that was about to come.

Wonwoo thought it would be best to get the pain part over with as quickly as possible. So he lifted your chin and kissed you to distract you from your nerves and relax you before he pushed himself fully inside you all in one go.

“Oh fuck!” you all but screamed out, gripping his arms tighter, your nails no doubt having left marks on his soft skin

“Shit.” Wonwoo says through gritted teeth as he tried to control himself.

He wanted to start fucking you into next week already, but he didn’t want to move before you were ready. So he held still, using every bit of strength he had to hold himself back.

A small tear slipped down the side of your cheek as a reaction from the sudden feeling of being so full. He wiped it away with his thumb and kissed your lips.

“I’m sorry princess. Do you want to stop?” He asked eyes full of concern and worry. You gave him a short kiss back.

“No. I’m okay now. Please keep going. I really need you to keep going”

And, ever the eager people pleaser he was, he started to pull out almost completely before he pushed back in to you with a groan.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking tight. I dont know how much you’ll be able to take baby” he half joked to you. He nibbled on the sweet spot under your ear and continued his previous action again and again, making you see stars.

“I- I can take all of it. I’ll take anything you give me. Just please, go fast. I- I need you to go faster.” You whimpered out, attempting to meet his thrusts with your hips.

Your words lit a fire in him he couldn’t explain. The thought of you asking him to give you all he had sent an unexplained excitement through his veins. He didn’t know what it was about them that made it happen. But one thing was for sure, he was gonna give you everything he possibly could and he was gonna make sure you took all of it like a good girl.

He quickly sped up his thrusts to an almost inhumane pace, watching every pretty face you made in the process. You started chanting for him to ‘please go deeper.’ And who was he to deny you something when you were being so polite?

So he grabbed one of your legs that you had wrapped around him and pulled it up to rest on his shoulder.

“Oh God right there! Fuck please don’t stop!” You yelled out, dragging your nails down his back leaving bright red lines, some of which must’ve broken skin.

He smiled to himself as your eyes screwed shut at the pleasure he was giving you, small pleas and thank yous leaving your lips in rhythm with his thrusts.

He lowered his eyes to watch himself disappear into you as he pounded you harder and harder. You had never had sex before today and yet, here you were, taking him like a good little cockslut. Fuck. You were incredible.

“You’re doing so good baby. You look so good on my cock” he groaned out, laying his forehead on your shoulder.

“Come on princess, let everyone know how good I’m making you feel. Let everyone know who owns this pretty little cunt.” He cooed at you when he realized you had started to bite his shoulder in an effort to muffle your noises.

You whine in response, knowing normally you wouldn’t have wanted people to know about something so private, but also starting to lose focus on your priorities as his cock started brushing up against that special spot inside you.

“Oh Fuck Wonwoo! Right there! Fuck do that again!” You moaned out, begging him to repeat what he had just done. He smiled to you smuggly.

“Oh you mean right…” he teased as he fixed his position to touch your sweet spot again before you started to scream out in euphoria, “there?”

“Yes yes yes! Fuck yes! Don’t stop! God please don’t ever stop!” You choked out, starting to lose yourself to the immense pleasure he was giving you.

“Well I’m gonna have to in a minute baby. I’m almost there and I’ll need to pull out” he reminded you while tilting his head backward to try and hold his orgasm off just a little bit longer to get you there again.

“Fuck I- I don’t care! Cum inside me then! Just please don’t stop!” You wail, holding onto Wonwoo for dear life at this point.

Wonwoo’s eyes shot wide open at your words, “Princess I could get you pregnant if I do that. You don’t want that” he spoke while begging any fucking god listening to give him the strength to say no to your request.

“Ye- Yes I do. Fuck please cum in me Wonwoo! Please! I want you to fill me up! I want everyone to know I’m yours!” You sobbed, getting so close to your high tears were now freely falling down your face.

Wonwoo’s eyes went bright red. Fuck. You were gonna be the death of him. “Is that what you want baby? For me to fill you up? To get you nice and pregnant so everyone can see your belly and know you’re mine? So everyone’ll know you’re my little cumslut?” He responded, pounding into you harder and harder as he neared his high.

“Yes please! Fuck please! I want your baby! I want you to fill me up! I wanna be your dirty little cum slut! Make me yours” You screamed as his words sent you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. You asked him to get you pregnant and every instinct in him told him to do it, he was starting his rut. To hell with the consequences. If anything happened, he’d take care of you and everything would be fine. You were his mate after all. He’d breed you some day anyways, why not today?

His fangs elongated as he drew closer to his own orgasm. He sunk them into the apex between your neck and shoulder, the feeling pushing you over the edge. The pleasure mixed with the pain drove you to a release so amazing, you never even thought it possible. And it sent him to his as well. The last thing you remember was feeling his hot cum jet against your walls right as the darkness took over you.

“Well looks like sleeping beauty finally woke up” Wonwoo stated as he kissed your nose. You noticed he didn’t have his shirt on, you did. You didn’t remember putting it on…

“What- what happened…?” You groaned out, still pretty groggy from the activities of the previous night.

“We fucked. You passed out after. You must’ve either been super exhausted or super fucked up from cumming really hard.” He said matter of factly while he rubbed your back.

“I think it was the second one” You pieced together as you tried to sit up, soon realizing that your muscles didn’t want to work.

“Considering you were so out of it you were begging me to knock you up, I’d go with number two too” he joked while massaging your sore thigh.

“I- I did that?” You questioned, shocked that you had gotten that fucked up.

“Well… yeah. Don’t worry. We can get you the day after pill when we go to the market today. Of course… you’ll have to cover this…” he responded while moving your hair behind yout shoulder, pointing out the bite he had left on you.

“You marked me??” Your eyes widened at the thought, had you SERIOUSLY been SO fucked out that you didn’t even remember him biting you? You seriously were so lost in cumming that you didn’t realize he marked you as his?

“Yeah I guess I did…” Wonwoo whispered as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry. I hardly even remember doing it. I remember you saying you wanted me to cum inside of you. I remember how that made me have this sudden primal urge to make you mine, then everything went blurry.”

“It- It’s okay. I can’t really be mad if I was literally asking you to… well you know. We both ended up getting pretty fucked out huh?” You joked, a small smile forming as you spoke.

“Yeah. Pretty fucked out is a bit of an understatement. But still, I’m sorry for the unintentional marking and mating. I can’t really do anything about the marking… but we can at least help the mating thing by getting you that weird pill” he shrugged out, already getting ready to put his jeans back on.

“Wait!” You stopped him by grabbing his arm, surprising both him and yourself with the action. He looked back at you with confusion plastered all over his face.

“What? Isn’t taking it as early as possible better?” He questioned, your hand still holding his arm.

“Yeah… but I don’t want to get out of bed. I’m kinda sore. So do we… absolutely have to get it…?” You wondered aloud, trying your best to convey to him what you were trying to say.

“I- uh if you don’t want to get pregnant… kinda?” He stuttered out, now grabbing your petite hand in his large one and placing a little kiss to the center of it’s palm.

“What if- what if I don’t mind it? Getting pregnant I mean. Do we have to go get it…? Unless you want me to take it…?” You trailed on. His eyes widened and his heart rate sped up. Were you saying what he thought you were saying?

“Are you saying- are you saying that you’d actually be okay if I just got you pregnant?” He gulped, hand still encasing yours.

“Well… yeah. Kind of? I mean- we’re already mates right? We already know we’ll be together till the day we die. So I don’t see why it matters if we have a kid now or twenty years from now” you explained cautiously, hoping you didn’t just freak the poor wolf out. He looked back at you, his face completely unreadable.

“If- if you’re okay with it then- Yeah that’s- that’s fine. We don’t have to go get it if you don’t want. We can just stay here and uh… talk?” He let out very questionably, still not completely sure what to say. After everything you had said to him about… well- about everything, he had NEVER expected those words to come out of your mouth.

“Are you… mad? Because we can go get the pill if you-” you started, worried that you had in fact, upset him with your request.

“No- no! I’m not mad. Just… kind of shocked is all. I didn’t think that you’d… be okay with something like that so soon” he defended, holding his hands up in the air as a way to stop you from talking any further.

“Oh. Yeah well… me either really. But I’m not… absolutely hating the idea, ya know? I mean I’m not saying ‘I want a baby right this second so let’s keep going till I get pregnant’ or anything. But I just mean- if it happens, it happens. Why try to fight it if we’re supposed to be together anyways? Unless you hate the idea then I-” You say, slightly losing steam at the end of your sentence, while looking down and biting your lip.

“Hey” Wonwoo said while lifting your chin with his hand, “I dont hate the idea either. I know what you’re saying and… I feel the same way about it” he admitted with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Really? You’re not mad or gonna like freak out?” You quizzed him, still very worried that he was a mess inside and was just hiding it fo your sake.

“Really. I’m not mad and I’m not gonna freak. What you’re saying, it makes sense. I already know I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Hell, I’ve already marked and mated you, so why try and stop it if we’d both be okay with it.” He added taking your hand and kissing it once more, this time with love and adoration in his eyes rather than concern.

“Okay. Good. Now that that’s settled… can we lay back down now before you start your mating season? I’m in a bit of pain and kind of need to get my strength back before I have to deal with you for a whole week” you declared, earning a small laugh from Wonwoo.

“Yeah baby. We can lay back down. Come on” he chuckled out as he quickly moved under the sheets to lay beside you.

“Better?” He asked, playing with your hair as you laid on his chest.

“Better.” You answered before you snuggled further into him.

You knew that you trusted Wonwoo and that you loved and cared for him more than you did yourself. You may not have planned how today went, but you sure as hell weren’t complaining. No matter what hardships decided to come your way…

Another Author’s Note: Ahhh. This was a fun chapter. Wonwoo’s next chapter is where it’ll really start to hit home. I’m not that good at writing smut but honestly, something about this boy makes me always wanna just smash my lips to his and fuck him. Don’t know why. Don’t know if I’m the only one. Either way, I promised smut for his chapter and I delivered as best as I could.

(Updated 9/6)

#seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt au #seventeen x reader #svt wonwoo #wonwoo #svt wonu #seventeen wonu #wonu x reader

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

Text

𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑂𝑓 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑅𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑓𝑡. 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝐾𝑖𝑑𝑠

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, encouraging, supporting, justifying, or promoting mafia behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warning: Brief scenes of violence. Reader discretion advised.

「𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈」

When Hongjoong escorted you through the hall for your uncle's wedding, the last person he expected to be seated at the same table you two were in was none other than Bang Chan, who was also surprised to see him.

"You?!" They both exclaimed, already getting into a fighting position.

The people around you guys stared in shock, afraid of some shoot out about to happen. You however calmed Hongjoong down while explaining that Chan was your cousin's boyfriend.

"And you couldn't have mentioned this before?" He crossed his arms in front of you.

"Can you both just not cause a scene here? It's my uncle's special day." You begged them.

"Yeah, 5th special day in the last 4 years." Chan teased earning him a smack from his girlfriend beside him.

They just sat quietly during the entire reception, refusing to acknowledge each other, although occasionally they couldn't help but throw slight jabs at each other. It all culminated though when it was time for the bride to throw the bouquet which was caught by none other than you. Chan actually laughed at that.

"What's so funny?" Hongjoong asked.

"The fact that of all people, Y/N caught the bouquet when we both know you don't have the guts to make her walk down the aisle."

Hongjoong slammed his fists down and stood up.

"That's it! I've had it with you. You want to take this outside? Cause I'm ready."

「𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂」

Seonghwa and you happily strolled through the park, enjoying each other's affection, when you were startled by an all too familiar voice and face behind Seonghwa, one you had not seen in over 2 years.

"Y/N! Long time no see. How have you been gorgeous?"

Seonghwa noticed how you seemed to sunk your shoulders down, your eyes not wanting to directly look at the man in front of you. And Seonghwa was not at all amused by the way this man talked to you.

"I... I'm fine.... Lee Know..." You responded, your voice slightly trembling.

At hearing the name, Seonghwa turned around and indeed, it was none other than the infamous play boy Lee Minho himself, smirking right at you. He looked at Seonghwa and let out a tiny scoff.

"I take it....he's your new boo?" Lee Know asked, cocking his head to the side.

Seonghwa merely wrapped an arm around you protectively, clearly signaling an affirmative answer. Lee Know smiled.

"Well.....then good for you. If you ever get bored of him....you know you can always call me." He shamelessly said as he walked away.

Seonghwa looked down at you, the way you were holding back tears was enough to know Lee Know was your ex, the one who had torn your heart apart years ago, the one who made it difficult for you to accept Seonghwa because you were so heartbroken and scared about starting a new relationship.

Seonghwa kissed your forehead and held you close to him.

"You know I love you and I'd never hurt you like he did right?"

「𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐」

Yunho slowly walked through the city's streets, casually listening to music and overall trying to relax a little. He thought he spotted a familiar sweater on a rather familiar frame, but it couldn't have been you right? Especially when the figure seemed to be lovey dovey with none other than....

Seo Changbin?!

Yunho ripped his earbuds out, tearing them off when he noticed it was definitely you and you were definitely hugging one of his arch nemesis.

"Get the fuck away from her!" Yunho declared as he ripped you away from Changbin's embrace.

"Yunho! What are you?-"

Grabbing the smaller man by the collar, he easily hoisted him up.

"I'm warning you right now, don't ever come near my girlfriend or so help me your gang will be short by one member." He warned him.

"Yunho! Stop! Put my brother down!" You cried out as you tugged at his jacket.

Yunho widened his eyes and looked back at you, immediately turning soft when he stared at your panicked stricken face.

"Bro...brother?" He asked incredulous.

"Yes! Her brother now do you mind putting me down?" Changbin asked as he tried to pry Yunho's fingers off him.

Yunho put him down and you immediately checked on him to make sure he was ok. You only got a scoff from him as he warned you:

"Careful with him and his gang Y/N. I'm only holding back for your sake."

Changbin began walking away, not wanting anymore confrontation in front of you. Yunho sheepishly looked at you while you merely rolled your eyes.

"I'm sorry.....but you never told me you had a brother."

「𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈」

The young man calmly stepped inside the room, looking around, trying to figure out if it really was a set up or not.

"Hello?" He called out, not seeing anybody.

Suddenly the lights turned on and from the shadows, Yeosang emerged, hands in his pockets as he calmly looked at the man in front of him.

"Hwang Hyunjin, thank you for accepting my invitation." He spoke out, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Get to the point Yeosang. The fuck you want." Hyunjin didn't want to waste his time.

Yeosang hummed. "I simply want you to stay away from Y/N."

Hyunjin actually let out a chuckle at that.

"Of course the overbearing boyfriend would pull out this mediocre shit. Listen, Y/N and I have been longtime friends and you can't change that. She's my friend. "

"I know. And I also know you have the hots for her and more than once you've shit talked me to her in order to get her to leave me." Yeosang raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to contradict him.

Hyunjin's smile faltered for a moment, but then he smirked.

"You're not gonna do shit Yeosang. And you can't stop me from seeing Y/N."

"What makes you think-"

"Suppose I accidentally let it slip out to Y/N what you actually do for a living, let her find out who you really are?" Hyunjin threatened him.

Yeosang stayed quiet, clenching his fists, resisting the urge to break Hyunjin's skull against the floor.

"I think it's in your best interest to not try me Kang Yeosang. You'll end up losing."

Yeosang just stood there, unable to do anything but watch his rival leave victorious...

"For now..."

「𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏」

"Well well well.....look what the cat dragged in."

San let out an evil laughter as he picked up the blonde haired boy up and slammed him against the wall.

"I thought I told you never to show your ugly rat face around here Jisung." San reminded him.

Jisung got up from the floor, refusing to back down at the taller and obviously stronger male.

"I'm actually a squirrel, thank you." He replied with a smug grin.

San didn't hesitate to throw a punch at his face, knocking him down once again. San picked him up again, this time with his hands wrapped around his neck as he choked him.

"Wrong move to try and be brave with me punk." He sneered at him.

"San! Don't! Let him go!"

Your voice made San look over at you. You ran over to them, fear and panic written all over your face.

"Stay out of this Y/N." San warned you, inadvertently pushing you away rather roughly, making you fall to the floor.

Seeing you get hurt triggered something in Jisung. Using whatever strength he had, he swung his leg and kicked San hard enough to loosen the grip he had on him. He got to land one solid punch to his cheek, knocking him to the ground before he proceeded to take out a switchblade from his jacket.

"No Jisung! Please don't!" You begged him, your arms encapsulating his waist, trying to get him to stop.

San just stood looking at you in disbelief.

"Y/N....what on earth-?" He asked, his voice somewhat breaking.

"Jisung! Please don't! I'm begging you! Don't kill him!" You begged.

"Give me one good reason!" Jisung exclaimed.

You looked up at him with tears falling down.

"I love him..."

Jisung's face dropped as he realized what you meant. He looked back at San who had confusion written all over his face, which then turned to shock when he asked:

"So you're my sister's boyfriend?"

「𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊」

Mingi stormed into a room, watching as the younger male was strapped to the chair in front of him.

"Felix....." Mingi said, walking around and watching as the feline looking man remained quiet.

"Do you have any idea why you're here?" Mingi asked him.

"I can tell you the reasons I'm not here for." Felix scoffed.

"Stop acting you little shit! You know damn well why I brought you here!" Mingi's deep voice boomed throughout the room.

Felix wasn't intimidated though, he simply leaned his face closer to Mingi's.

"Try me."

Mingi huffed before taking a picture out of his wallet and holding it up.

"You see her?"

Felix squinted his eyes at the picture before realizing that it was none other than you.

"I want to know why you've been hanging around her place more often. Are you stalking her? Planning to kidnap her to get back at me? Was that your plan? Use my own girlfriend against me? You think I'd let you get the chance?" Mingi questioned him.

Felix rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Yes Mingi, I was totally going to kidnap my own sibling and possibly torture her in order to get under your skin." He replied sarcastically.

Mingi's face dropped. "What?"

"You dumbass. Y/N is my sister and I've been hanging around her place for protection. In case you don't know, there's another gang that's been recently rising up. They call themselves Oneus. About a week ago, they sent all of us pictures of our closed ones to taunt us, and so we've been on guard over them."

Mingi now froze as Felix said those words. He realized now you were in danger. He quickly cut Felix loose from the ropes before ordering:

"Tell me everything you know about these bastards."

「𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈」

"I love you so much." Wooyoung whispered, kissing your nose, making you giggle.

"Do you?" You teased him.

"I do. I love you more than-"

"Y/N! What are you doing with him?"

Your oldest friend, Seungmin promptly pushed Wooyoung away from you, placing himself in front of you.

"Kim Seungmin, do you want to die?" Wooyoung glared at him.

"You're the one that's going to die if you keep playing with my best friend." Seungmin warned.

"Playing?" You asked.

"Best friend?" Wooyoung was in utter confusion.

"Don't give me that. Everyone in the mafia world knows you're the biggest fuck boi there is. Only making girls fall in love with you so you can get in their pants and then dump them, you sick pervert." Seungmin cringed in disgust.

Wooyoung let out a dry chuckle at his words.

"Play with whoever the fuck you want but leave Y/N out of this. She deserves better than trash like you."

Wooyoung bit the side of his cheek, finally understanding where this was going.

"Like who? You perhaps?"

Seungmin gulped slightly, confirming what Wooyoung was thinking.

"How long have you been in love with her Kim Seungmin? Wait don't answer me, it honestly doesn't matter..."

Wooyoung snaked an arm around you and pressed you to him.

"Cause she chose me and she's mine."

Wooyoung couldn't hid the smirk on his face as Seungmin looked at you in disbelief.

"Y/N.....please don't tell me.."

Your words broke Seungmin as you replied:

"I'm sorry Seungmin.... I'm in love with Wooyoung..

「𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐」

You pulled your face away from your ex, getting disgusted when he dared touch your cheek.

"Come on Y/N. Don't deny you still have feelings for me." He chuckled darkly.

You could only glare at him.

"I don't love you anymore Jeongin. So why don't you just let me go before it gets ugly?"

He got up and began laughing.

"Seriously? You really think your boy toy is going to come for you?" He asked.

"I don't think.... I know he will." You stated proudly.

"Really? You really think the Choi Jongho gives 2 fucks about you princess?" Jeongin cooed at you, his hands petting your hair softly.

Right at that moment there was a loud commotion heard outside, guns firing, and the sound of running feet could be distinguished. In less than 15 seconds, the door burst open and none other than Jongho himself came in, eyes full of rage when he saw the close proximity of your ex.

"I'm giving you 3 seconds to get your filthy hands off my girl or I'll split your head open." Jongho warned, coming closer to him.

Jeongin quickly pulled out a gun and held it to your head, prompting Jongho to halt his steps in fear of you getting hurt.

"That's what I thought Jongho. Y/N was mine first and I'm taking her back." Jeongin declared.

Jongho clenched his fists.

"Over my dead body."

Swiftly, he lunged at Jeongin, knocking the gun out of his hand. Jongho tried to punch him in the face, but Jeongin caught his fist with his hand before it collided with his face, giving him a cold stare, refusing to go down without a fight.

"That could easily be arranged..."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez mafia au #mafia!au #mafia!ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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may-b-a-u-shewritestoo · 3 years

Text

Lady in Gold

It’s just a date at the Neue Galerie. That’s all it is, right?

Rating: M

Word count; 3,062

Warning/Includes: fluffy fluff, exhibitionism, slight choking, fingering, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink if you squint I guess?!

A satin tea dress, a mellow golden. It flowed to just below your knees, and it had been paired with nude block sandals. A simple yet elegant jewelled clip held a side of your hair back and you felt.. beautiful. This date had been planned for a while, he had said to meet him on the corner of 5th and 86th Street; you would look out for him, he would be in a brown suit. The night was young, the sun just beginning to set over the skyline. You’d wonder if he would be there earlier than you, or if he was barely going to come at all. These must be normal nerves, the churning feeling flowing around your stomach; it was just a date.

Clement and peaceful, the last streams of daylight laid upon your skin as you leant against a tree outside the building. Skimming your eyes against the array of people departing and arriving at the gallery; they finally landed on the tall figure ambling towards you. A soft smile, reflective aviator glasses and the brown suit. It was him. His own masterpiece, he gave a small wave as he grew closer. The faint scents of coconut, coffee and cologne overwhelmed your senses as you managed to stutter out a soft ‘Hi Matthew’.

‘Y/N hey! I’m glad you found this place okay, sometimes people end up on the wrong end of the mile.’ he exclaimed, waving behind him at the never ending street.

‘I’m that person, what should’ve been a 15 minute walk turned out a hell of a lot longer.’ you giggled out.

‘Well hey, we made it in time for the private slot, should we head inside?’ you nodded, and intertwined your arm around the one he held out for you. There was a way that he held you tightly against his side that felt as though you were fragile and he didn’t want you to fall and break. As he mentioned to one of the guards inside you were here for a private viewing, you couldn’t help but stare up at him with veneration. A king couldn’t hold the grace and charm he could.

You’d been meandering for a while, stopping to talk about Werkstätte accessories and admiring the vintage fashion. You were excited to get to the portraits. A favourite of yours was on display, Klimt’s portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer. Filled to the brim with facts and knowledge on his art, there was a passion in your eyes as you tugged his arm towards the exhibition you’d been waiting for. Placing your clutch bag on a nearby seat you almost skipped up to the portrait.

‘Wow,’ you breathed out, ‘it’s even more beautiful than I imagined. The gold just hits different when it’s not on a phone screen huh.’

He stood behind you a few steps, observing and listening to your spirited words and facts. The way you vehemently expressed yourself started to get into his bloodstream, every time you said something new, turned to look back at him; goosebumps arose across his forearms and the back of his neck. He sauntered quietly and slowly closer to you, gently placing a hand on each of your hips. Inhaling abruptly, you didn’t stop exuding truths about the painting before you.

[[MORE]]

‘The painting was handed down to Adeles family members, but the Nazis stole it in 1941. After quite a long journey through multiple agencies, it was bought in 2006 and displayed. I’m literally speechless that it’s in front of me - ah!’ Matthew had pulled your hair to one side as you were speaking, slowly leaving open mouthed kisses to your exposed neck. His grip had tightened on your hips, subsequently beginning to run one hand up your body; the fingers coming up to grip your chin and turning your head to look back at him.

‘Do you know how beautiful you sound?’ he muttered, eyes travelling from your glossed lips up to meet yours. Maybe two centimetres between each set of lips and breath fanning against each other had changed the mood immediately. ‘It, uh, it really is my favourite piece. I could stay here and look at it - all- all night.’ Stumbling over your words, you kept your gaze on Matthew, as he lowered his hand a little; the slender yet gentle fingers contradicting themselves by squeezing the sides of your throat slightly.

‘I could say the same thing about you. This pretty dress, on such a pretty girl. I know which lady in gold I’d rather stare at.’ Smiling gently, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours, breathing getting deeper when you whimper against his mouth.

Reaching your arm behind you to hold the back of his head, his other arm held you flush against him. It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t rough; but it was a higher level of passionate that you wouldn’t usually show in such a public area. You wondered if there was a subtle message in Matthew reserving the museum for a private tour, instead of the romantic gesture it had seemed to be.

‘Was this your plan the whole time? To win me over with my favourite art and fuck me in the middle of the gallery?’ you breathed out, pushing back into him and curving your hips upwards into his. The satin of your dress was thin enough to feel the coarseness of his trousers and the cool metal of the belt holding them up. Matthew’s breath hitched beside your ear and he bit down on your lobe. Quickly clutching at your hips again, he ground his hips down into you and mustered out a small grunt at the contact. ‘I bet you’d like that huh? Already pushing up against me, needy little thing.’

The quiet moan that left your lips woke you up out of the sudden delirium you had fallen into, remembering where you were. ‘We’ll get into trouble.’ Matthew let out a condescending chuckle into your ear, a hand beginning to ruche the fabric upwards at the front of your dress. ‘Your body tells me you aren’t at all that worried, y/n. I bet you won’t feel as worried once I bring my fingers a little higher hm?’ He read your body language like a book. You were leaning into him, your hips bucking and following his hands. You were completely under his spell, entranced by the gentle but somehow rough feel of his fingers growing closer and closer to where you wanted him. Until he pulled them away.

‘No fuck please-‘ whining, you turned around to see why the sudden halt on his movements. He’d walked a few steps backward to the leather spectator couch in the middle of the room, sat down with legs spread; watching to see if you’d get the hint. ‘Come and sit on my lap baby. I want you to be comfortable when you’re talking.’ He smirked, knowing full well his actions were going to cause your brain to falter and words to fade away. Slowly walking towards him, you lifted your dress slightly to be able to straddle yourself across his lap; frowning when he spoke a stern, ‘no.’ He wiggled his finger in a circle, indicating he wanted you to face away from him.

Two could play at this teasing game.

Spinning around gently, you still lifted your dress before sitting down on him, giving him a slight peek of the white lace garments underneath. Judging by the way he pulled your hips down hard against him, you knew he saw the underwear. Leaning your back against his chest, he flopped his chin against your shoulder and gave a sweet peck on your cheek. All of these cute gestures couldn’t foreshadow the sheer vulgarity of what he was about to do; if there had been anyone in the room with you, they would’ve thought you two were adorable. He leant back, pulling you with him and the front of your dress up to mid-thigh. Trailing his fingers underneath the thin, yellow material, he ran his middle digit along your slit, feeling the damp patch that had formed on the even thinner lace. ‘I knew it. Filthy little slut. Was it me or Klimt who did this huh?’ he chuckled, gripping your hip when you tried to push against his finger. All you could let out was pathetic whines, and attempt to manoeuvre his finger inside you.

‘Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you sweetheart. You were spitting out facts a minute ago, where have all your words gone?’ he said, the condescending tone not helping your situation at all. ‘Please, I need, fuck, I need your fingers Matthew please.’ you begged, head falling back into his shoulder and hands gripping his arm that was around your waist. ‘Wow, you managed to ask so nicely too. Good girl.’ The sudden dominance he portrayed had you completely at his mercy, feeling nothing but a dull throbbing inside that you knew he could provoke. Stroking up and down your lips slightly to gather up your essence, he hooked his middle finger inside you so deep, so harshly you mewled out loudly; Matthew promptly covering your mouth and smiling into your hair. He nudged his index finger into you, curling the two together up against the spot that made your legs tighten around his wrist. He pulled them back open again and held them in that position, trusting you to be quiet. He wasn’t messing around; quick to thrust and curve his fingers upwards until your thighs began to shake against his arm. ‘Shit Matthew, i’m close already, please.’ you tried unsuccessfully to say it quietly, but the feeling he brought you came on so intensely you felt he needed warning. ‘Fuck yes, you’re so good to me. Letting me play with your pretty cunt right here in the open. Are you gonna come for me? I want you to fucking break baby. Come.’ He sped up his fingers, the wiggle of his fingertips against the spot, mixed with his palm grinding against your clit; the uncivilised words he growled into your ear had you gone. The hand returned to your mouth as you moaned and whimpered too loudly, bucking against his fingers, arching your back and gripping your fingernails into his legs as you came.

Matthew bit his lip and smiled into your neck as he drew out your orgasm, cock at its hardest as he felt your cunt tightening sporadically around his fingers. He needed you here and now. This beautiful woman spread across his lap, desperate and needy under his touch. How tight you got when you released onto his hand, the way you breathed out his name. If he could take you like that in this room, he’ll take you on his cock now too. Withdrawing his fingers from you and abruptly pushing them into you mouth, he pushed your hips forward a little so he could pull himself out of his trousers. You’d barely recovered from the intensity of the orgasm when you tasted yourself on your tongue, moaning around his fingers and curling your tongue around the tips. ‘Gonna take you right here baby, can’t wait anymore. Can you lift your dress a little higher for me?’ Trembling out a moan, you bunched your dress up around your hips, letting the spare material fall to the front so as not to expose yourself too much, which seemed ridiculous given the previous activity. ‘That’s it pretty girl. Sit yourself down on me, I want you to take as much as you can okay?’ the condescension had left his voice this time, his voice had become lower and exuded urgency.

Matthew lifted up your hips whilst you balanced your hands on his knees, bringing your legs together in between his. He grasped the base of his cock, pulling the lace to the side before coating himself in you. Pressing against your hole, wanting you to do the rest. You gasped as you glided down onto him, the lips parting and taking him in entirely. He was so thick and hard, you had to wiggle your hips side to side to fit him inside. ‘Shit, you’re so fucking big Matthew. Can’t take it all.’ He was just past halfway and already you felt so full. Matthew’s eyes had hooded and glazed over watching your pretty pussy taking him in, he ran a hand over your exposed cheek and gripped it tightly, pulling you down further.

‘Yes you fucking can, you can and you will. I know you can do it baby. Make me feel good, that’s it.’ You cried softly as he had you bear down completely on him. He was fully inside you, pushing against your cervix. It felt so good even just sitting still on him, let alone the pleasure it brought when you pulled up and back down again. His hands pushed and pulled you back and forth slowly and gently onto him, hitting special parts of you with every thrust. ‘Matthew please, please I just-‘ ‘Please what baby? Fuck-‘ ‘I just want you to fuck me properly please.’

He purred out a deep moan and laid back against the couch, you laid flat upon his chest again. He spread his legs a little more to give him leeway to fuck up into you easier, the pace at an allegro. Rolling his eyes back and biting his lip, he couldn’t get over the entire position you were both in. This wasn’t discreet anymore; no one could see where the two of your bodies met, but he was fucking up into you so hard, one arm wrapped tightly around your stomach, your head against his shoulder with the other hand covering your mouth. It was obvious this man was fucking this woman in the middle of an exhibition, in a gallery in New York. ‘God you feel so fucking tight around me, I can’t hold on much longer. You close for me?’ He sputtered out into your ear, looking at your face to see you nodding and eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. ‘Want you to rub that pretty clit for me, make yourself come on my cock. Use me, I’m all yours baby.’ he said through gritted teeth, growing closer and closer to just letting go. He wanted to feel those spasms around his cock before he did though. You held onto the hand over your mouth, and used your other hand to rub quick and hard circles on your clit, teetering on the edge. Tears began to line the brim of your eyes, everything becoming super overwhelming. Being fucked in front of your favourite painting, out in public, by the sexiest man you’d ever seen and felt, the strength of how he held onto you, pushed into you had you right there.

‘You’re right there baby, I can feel it. Let it fucking go for me, good girl, that’s it.’ The deep, raspy voice in your ear was all you needed to burst out in pleasure. You rubbed faster, matching his thrusts just as your body shuddered against his, your toes curling in the heels, your moans being muffled by his hand. ‘Fuck baby, that’s it, what a good fucking girl coming on my cock like this, you’re gonna make me fucking explode baby.’ Matthew grunted into your ear, bucking up harder but sloppily as he reached his peak. You pulled his hand away and turned to meet his eyes; his pupils dilated beyond belief, hair messy where you’d tugged on it before, lips swollen where he’d bitten them so hard trying to keep quiet. God he was so hot. ‘Come inside me Matthew, please. Come inside me, I’m yours to fill please, fuck I need to feel you like that please.’

Quiet but desperate moans and cries left his mouth once you begged him for his come, his hand gripping your face as he brought your lips to his, silencing himself as he spilled inside you. He hadn’t come this much in a while, but the way you told him you needed it brought it out of him. Your lips were pressed together so hard, more of a muzzle than a kiss. The feeling of him slightly spilling out of you made you involuntarily clench tighter, maybe a natural instinct to want to keep him where he belongs. Matthew slumped back, his head dropping onto the black leather. ‘Let’s hope this stays in hm?’ after a few minutes absorbing what you’d just done, you spoke quietly, slowly going to stand up off of him. Smiling lazily, he let out a hiss when his cock slid out of you, falling onto his stomach, still slick with the mixture of you both. Adjusting your underwear and smoothing out your dress, you watched as he tucked himself away, sitting himself up properly and running his hands through his hair. He grabbed your hands and pulled you to stand between his legs, eyes shining with love and admiration as he looked up at you. ‘You really are so beautiful, y/n. Nothing in this gallery compares to you.’ Matthew whispered, stroking his thumbs out across your hands. You blushed and lost eye contact for a second, gazing at the artwork sprawled across each wall.

‘Thank you. I think one thing could make me a lot more beautiful though.’ You smiled and glanced towards your bag. Matthew imitated your smirk and grabbed it, pulling out the two sets of rings inside. The two of you slotting them back where they belonged on each other’s hands, you kept a tight grip on Matthew’s hand as he stood up in front of you. Twiddling with the wedding rings on your finger, you looked up at him beaming. ‘Much better actually, Mrs Gubler. Let’s go grab something to eat?’ he held out his arm the same way he did walking you in, except this time it was mostly to aid you in walking because you were staggering a little.

As you passed the guard who’d let you both in, Matthew turned back towards him. ‘Thank you for helping us out tonight. Can officially say we crossed a few things off our date night list.’

Slapping his arm, you dragged him away blushing profusely. It left you thinking; What would the next date night entail?

#mgg smut #matthewgraygubler #mgg #smut

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songzhong · 2 years

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AZHDAHA, SOVEREIGN OF GEO. GUIZHONG, PRIMORDIAL SHADE. LIYUE’S “TATARIGAMI”.

( Headcanon until debunked ! ) Backstory following the Enkonomiya lore reveals. I’m a mess trying to make up the lore with friends so if anything I say here contradicts any information it’s very probably an oversight I welcome feedback ! O)-(

As it is headcanon, I will never push interpretations on any direct muse involved in this interpretation of events, such as Azhdaha or Guizhong roleplayer.

At the beginning of times, dragons emerged from the very elements, immense predators with absolute power all creatures would cower at the very sight. Those dragons will be come to known as the Seven Sovereigns. And their reign was absolute. Amongst them, the Dragon of Water and, most of all, the Dragon of Geo. Retuo. Azhdaha.

As the Primordial One descended upon Teyvat, it shed its four shades to help him guide the humanity he had fought for and cherished, for whom he created heavens and earth. Amongst them, Istaroth would held dominion over wind and time.

And, amongst the glaze lilies, the shade of Dust and Wisdom would meet a qilin. A stern and powerful warrior who only knew the harsh ways of his kin and ruled over mountains. She approached him with no ill intentions, and the qilin listened to her. She spoke of her people and their will to live, their fragility and the beauty in them, similarly to how the qilin would silently cherish those glaze lilies, which bloomed to the shade’s soft voice.

"...In the beginning, when the people assembled to farm the land... A god named Guizhong descended, whose dominion was over Dust, and whose reach shrouded the skies for thousands of miles around..." ―Soraya, Treasure Lost Treasure Found

This qilin’s named was Zhongli. She presented him a dumbbell, as a sign of good will.

"Those little people are as small and fragile as dust." "Because they are so small, they know not when they will lose their lives to disaster or strife, and so they are afraid." "Because they are afraid, they try so hard to become more intelligent. This I understand." "So I thought that since there is such a gulf between us in strength, I should use technique and wisdom instead." "With your brawn and my brains, this city would surely become a great one."

"This is the mark of our pledge, and it is also my challenge to you." ―Guizhong, Memory of Dust

1. "To unite in ambition is to be steadfast and immovable for all time." 2. "Wisdom is like water, it nourishes all those who receive it and in it is a reflection of the truth."' 3. "Fortify the bones, that movement be supple when the time comes." 4. "Virtue grows tall like a tree, though there be shade it will flourish forever" ―Jade Plates, Treasure Lost Treasure Found

Those would be the commandments of the Guili Assembly, under Guizhong, the God of Dust, and Morax, the God of Contracts.

An enormous dragon as ancient as the mountains themselves. In an age that has all but faded from memory, he stood shoulder to shoulder with one who ruled over a harbor of stone. ―Archive, Azhdaha

Retuo, in all his knowledge ( ज्ञता ), wished to avoid any more violence for both his vishap kind, all other illuminated beasts and humanity. And so, Morax bestowed Retuo with parts of his power so he could see the world humanity cherished. They would ally against any threat to their home. Amongst those threats, Osial would be against compromises with humanity, which forced Morax’s hand.

...Rex Lapis overcame the Chi, but the Chi could not perish in its entirety. Thus did Rex Lapis conquer each of its facets in turn: its spirit was bound in the north, its bones were pinned in the south-east, its flesh was incarcerated in the north-west, its soul was fettered in the north-east, and its form was crushed in the south-west... ―Incomplete Writing at Qingce Village

Retuo leading the vishaps, Morax the illuminated beasts and Guizhong humanity... but the Primordial One would have it another way.

For to keep their dominion intact, the Primordial One’s heavenly principles would dawn on the world an its immortal beings Erosion, for them to slowly lose memories prior to the Primordial One’s reign... and this meant having the Seven Sovereigns defeated. None of them could walk the earth, a living reminder of times the Primordial One could not allow to survive.

As he watched his friend’s very being crumble, Morax did all he could for his companion to retain his sense of self, carving, using the same power he used to bestow sight, so he would not crumble apart as the fate of other Sovereigns, such as the Dragon of Water, was a cruel one.

Seeing as he may lose himself completely if all attempts would not work, Retuo and Morax made a contract : if the Lord of Vishaps would lose his sense of self and become a threat to all they fought for, Morax would have to end him.

The Primordial One had not gone unnoticed of Guizhong’s betrayal as she fought against Retuo’s fate and thus its Heavenly Principles. And so as they realized she was to reveal their weaknesses, they had her struck down.

"...and there they fought upon the Guili Plains, where black dust choked the heavens and a thousand rocks splintered..."

The black dust was so it devastated the lands, annihilating the fields of glaze lilies, turning people mad and poisoning the land. Amongst others, the God of Salt Havria was one of the casualties, killed by her very own people as they were driven to madness.

This would not be the first time such phenomenon and execution would occur ; in Inazuma, Orobashi was also struck down, leaving the black mist known as the Tatarigami.

However, the God of Stoves Marchosius sacrificed himself so the land would not remain poisoned. His friends could only watch as he weakened, to the point where he could not even speak nor comprehend them anymore...

To fight the rest of the black dust and the evils it spawned, Rex Lapis gathered the original Yakshas to protect Liyue. However, they too would become affected by what they would call, in place of the Tatarigami curse, Karmic Debt.

This place attracts monsters corrupted by sinister energy. According to Xiao, their mutation might be connected to his karmic debt... ―Karma-Heavy Cavern, Guili Plains

However, unbeknownst to the Primordial One, Guizhong had left Morax the very knowledge she had been struck down for long ago.

"All my wisdom is hidden within this stone dumbbell." "If you can unlock it—" ―Guizhong, Memory of Dust

―you will have what it takes to change the world yet again. Were the last words Guizhong would have said before her body crumbled at the hand of Morax himself, as was planned so he could keep the Primordial One’s trust and protect the people of Liyue. Because it always had been for them. For the shade loved humanity as much as her creator, and her Wisdom told her that, no matter how much she and the Primordial One cherished those people and this world, the day may come where change may be inevitable.

At the end of the war, Rex Lapis would be given one of the seven divine seat.

Later on, Retuo’s mind eroded, making him forget about Morax’s face and their alliance to protect Liyue. All he could see was his Sovereign kingdom being trampled upon and destroyed by invaders.

>Do you mean Rex Lapis? Hah... That usurper? Humans... They care only about history since the dawn of the age of mankind... Are people really happy to just draw a line under the litany of atrocities humanity's ancestors are responsible for, call it "ye olde worlde," and just get on with their merry little lives? Well, I hope that anyone who willfully indulges in this fantasy world of false prosperity will be consumed by it, and thus get what they deserve. ―Jiu, NPC dialogue at the Dragon-Queller

It was only because of the remaining of Retuo’s consciousness being willing that Morax was able to seal him away, unable to himself bring down the friend he had fought so hard to retaining the original Lord of Geo’s form so he could, maybe, someday, like it was written about The Dragon of Water...

But now that the Bathysmal Vishaps have evolved in this manner, they have lost their purity. As such, the Dragon of Water will no longer be born from among their ranks. Prophecy holds that the new Dragon of Water will definitely descend in the form of a human. ―Archive, Bolteater Bathysmal Vishap Hatchling

“If it is fated, Morax... we will meet again.” ―Azhdaha, No Mere Stone

However, despite the Primordial One’s desperate, drastic attempts, remains of the times prior to its dominion remain, just like the dumbbell.

As the new Cryo Archon becomes affected by the truth of this world and the Love she harbored for her people turned to Grief. And so, the Tsaritsa contacts the Geo Archon as part of her plan to burn the old world. It is then that Rex Lapis will sign a contract with her, one which is set in motion when she sends one of her hand-picked Harbinger to be guided through Liyue by a consultant to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

But no any of her Harbingers.

After all... “You shall ever be the eye of the storm, “And the clashing of steel shall ever accompany you. “The pitch-black memory of stepping into uttermost darkness, “Shall, at last, become the strength by which you will overturn this world.” ―Archive, Childe

#.songzhong ( headcanon )#watch this not age well #PUTS ON MY TINFOIL HAT #very long post tw #I've been hitting my head against the timeline and even then I'm sure there's some shit I don't see that's wrong O)-(

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

Forbidden Games: Chapter 6

“……What?”

At his unbelievable statement, Sherlock frowned.

“What did you say?”

The question was coloured with rage, but Alan responded nonchalantly.

“Oh, did you think that was it? If that’s the case, then you’ve been a little naive.”

In direct contrast to Sherlock, William pressed on in a deathly chilly tone.

“What happened to our agreement that you would let this man go if we won?”

“Indeed, I had promised that. However, there was no requirement stating that he had to be in one piece.”

Taking Alan’s answer as a signal, the accomplice who had subdued the hostage swiftly slashed at the young man’s face with his knife. The man let out a high-pitched scream.

“You bastard……”

That inhumane act made Sherlock remember his rage. It was then that William knew the premonition he had before the game began had come true.

Without a doubt, this man wanted to keep playing—— until he won.

A paltry self-respect that led him to disregard the clear settlement they had reached, and be unable to accept his defeat: in order to protect that, he would use every trick in the book to force the game to continue.

“Have you no sense of shame?”

“——I know it all too well. To me, the greatest humiliation is admitting defeat to scum like you.”

Alan had instantly discarded his superficial formality, spitting out his words in a threatening tone.

Sherlock shrugged.

“Going to such lengths for a shallow motive like this is worse than a woman’s selfishness. Well, that wouldn’t be the case if we were really playing on an equal footing.”

“Don’t act like you know what you’re talking about, lad. You hear me? You and I mean very different things when we talk about equality. The weak will always watch the faces of the strong and live off their graciousness. It is only when the balance of this hierarchical relationship is maintained, that equality is achieved. In other words, where we are standing, as the one in a position of absolute superiority, I am the very rule, the very principle of law you must follow. If you’ve got that, then get on with it and follow my instructions.”

“…………”

After hearing Alan’s perverse argument, it wasn’t just William and Sherlock, but even his own accomplices who couldn’t help but laugh.

As their ‘fair’ game continued in this small world, it seemed this man’s arrogance would only continue to inflate until it became irrepressible.

However, it was also clear that no amount of objection to this injustice would benefit the hostage.

“It seems he’ll no longer listen to reason.”

It was a contradiction: no matter how many times they won, their victory would never be acknowledged. William said so in resignation, and Sherlock let out a huge sigh in agreement.

“It’s no use. Let’s play one more time then. That okay with you?”

Alan almost laughed in triumph.

“Absolutely. ……Well then, let’s begin the next match.”

“The same game again? Or perhaps another one?”

At William’s question, Alan drew close to an accomplice and whispered into his ear. Then two more revolvers were placed on the table.

A total of three guns. In other words, the next game would have three players. If that was the case, then——.

William stared at the guns in silence.

“Just as you guessed. Our next game is also one you've heard about from that club member earlier.”

A game where three people would use three guns. Sherlock remembered hearing something like that in the hall.

“In this next game, the two of you will be playing with me. Each of us will take a gun and choose our positions. But now when it’s your turn, you will be firing at another player. The last man standing is the winner. ……Or rather, should I say there can only be one winner?”

Just a single victor. The two of them could guess what that rule meant.

If only one man would be left standing, then no matter which side won, it would still be their loss.

Between William and Sherlock, one of them would have to die.

Alan continued his explanation.

“Most importantly, each of these guns will contain a different number of rounds.”

Sherlock cocked his head.

“Different? You mean we’re not loading one bullet at a time?”

“That’s right. So the guns will have six, three or two bullets respectively. We’ll start from the player whose gun has the fewest rounds.”

Each gun had a maximum capacity of six rounds. In terms of probabilities, the chances of getting shot would be one-in-one, one-in-two, and one-in-three respectively. If they managed to reach the third player, someone would definitely be killed.

“…………”

William brooded over this new development.

A perverse game of Russian roulette where two players were sure to die. If they were to proceed as-is, one of them would be sacrificed, but Alan was also risking his life. However, for one so proficient at self-preservation, it stood to reason that he had prepared a trick to remain alive in this game. And it was—— that.

Having watched the events unfold as he had predicted, William cast a sideways glance at Sherlock.

Now all that was left, was for him to die.

With that ominous warning in his heart, William spoke up.

“As for the sequence in which we play…… how will we be deciding that?”

Alan rested his chin on his hand, and raised the corner of his mouth.

“This time, I’m at a disadvantage. So it’s only fair for me to choose first.”

“! You bastard, I’ve had enough of——“

Sherlock attempted to protest against that reversal in logic, but William reached out to stop him before he could do so. Here, where their opponent could be as selfish as he pleased, it would be pointless to say anything further.

“Then, what position will you choose?”

“I’ll take the gun with three bullets. So I’ll be going second.”

“I see.”

So Alan had chosen three bullets.

“How about you, Mr Holmes?”

“……You sure you’re alright letting me pick first?”

“I don’t mind.”

Sherlock spoke slowly, as if he had been forced to make a difficult decision.

“I’m choosing the one with…… six bullets.”

“Third place, I see. So I’ll be taking the gun with two bullets, and going first.”

With their positions decided, William and Sherlock picked up their newly-issued revolvers.

The sequence went as follows: William would go first, with two bullets, followed by Alan with three bullets, and finally, Sherlock with six bullets.

Alan watched with amusement as the two men, unable to escape, were doing exactly what he wanted. However, there was no sense of agitation among the two of them. At first glance, it did seem that they were forced to play along with his whims. But in reality, the entire situation was in the palm of William’s hand.

In the end, Alan was merely obsessed with the game. In contrast, at this point William and Sherlock had no regard for winning or losing. The games would go on forever and ever until their opponent was satisfied. They had no intention of playing along with such a farce.

“So the order has been decided. Then let us proceed to load the bullets into our guns, and as for that——”

“——There is a concern that players themselves may miscount the number of bullets, so may we invite another party to do the honours?”

As if he’d stolen Alan’s line, William personally presented his revolver to the gentleman standing behind him.

Having been preempted, Alan sniffed in displeasure.

“……We knew that already. That’s right. In the interest of ‘fairness’, let’s have a third party load the bullets.”

Saying that, Sherlock also passed his gun to the man standing behind him. Although it could never actually be fair when they were surrounded by Alan’s men, William and Sherlock had ceased to object.

Instead, William listened carefully. He took in the sounds of Alan’s accomplices loading the bullets without hesitation. Sherlock’s gun had six rounds. Alan’s gun had three. His own gun had two. That was the only aspect where it seemed they were disciplined enough to follow the rules. It was as if they were trying to convince themselves that the game was fair.

Soon the preparations were complete, and the game began.

The first to go was, William.

He looked at his revolver. As expected, there were scratches: three on the body, and one on the cylinder.

“Well then, young noble. Who will you shoot?”

His target could be Sherlock, or Alan. Or……

He cocked the hammer, and aimed the barrel at his target. Right then and there, Alan and his accomplices were rendered utterly speechless.

William was pointing the gun at his own head.

With neither hesitation nor regard for the reactions of the people around him, he pulled the trigger.

——A click.

His strange act left Alan and his men dumbfounded.

“What the heck were you——”

It seemed like Alan wanted to question the motive for his eccentric behaviour. But immediately, his expression changed as if he’d thought of something. He pointed his gun at Sherlock and pulled the trigger.

His chances were one-in-two — and the revolver fired.

“Guh……”

He’d been hit in the stomach. Sherlock’s face twisted in agony as he crumpled from his chair onto the ground, and lay still.

“With that, Mr Holmes has been eliminated,” William announced indifferently.

Taking in the extreme calm with which William accepted his partner’s death, Alan felt fear for the first time.

“Is this, what you were aiming for?”

Back then, when William’s gun had not fired, Alan needed to ensure that Sherlock was taken out before he could use his own gun, which was guaranteed to fire. If Sherlock was shot, then with him eliminated, the next turn would cycle back to William.

Things had worked out exactly as he’d hoped. In a quiet voice, William spoke to the horrified Alan.

“Have you heard the story of the three assassins?”

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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celestialices · 3 years

Text

QUEST!

Greek Mythology x Haikyuu

Haikyuu!Ensemble x Reader

OVERVIEW. You were just a perfectly normal student at The University of Tokyo, when suddenly a bunch of 'normal boys', as they call themselves, appeared in your life and started to squeeze themselves into your life. Always saying something like "You're a goddess, we need to take you back to Olympus" (you brushed it off, saying that it was just a silly compliment) and even absurd sentences such as "You got Medusa's eyes" and "You're really Medusa's daughter!"

003: PLAN OF ACTION

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Tense.

That's one word to describe the atmosphere in the pantheon right now. Usually, the after ceremony gathering of the Twelve Olympians plus Hades, everyone would be drinking, having fun, and feasting their eyes on humans just for pure enjoyment. Even Hera doesn't know what to say, normally the one talking too much was her, often bragging about her dearest son, Kuroo Tetsuro.

Unlike others, Hermes is rather enjoying himself, sipping his wine every now and then. This day is truly a blessing. Ever since the Medusa incident, Zeus prevented all his might to keep Olympus on track. He had his sons take care of each problem before it aggravates.

Subsequently, Athena grew tired of the silence. Opting to break it, she was about to say what's been bugging her mind, but paused after locking eyes with the mischievous god. "You fancy these situations, don't you?" Athena is annoyed, no doubt.

Like the bastard he is, Hermes only snickered. "Perhaps."

"Hermes, you did something." Athena hypothesized, the wise goddess is somewhat sure of her assumption. Hermes is the most cunning of them all, the amount of times he tried to bring trouble was uncountable. But he was never held liable, taking in the fact that he did a lot of sacrifices for Mount Olympus. He's responsible for a lot of things too, in comparison of the added vigorous deities, he still remains as the best choice.

"Oh," Hermes acted dumbfounded, behaving as if he didn't know Athena will catch on sooner or later. "Did I?" He teased her. Athena isn't easy to annoy. She would rather ignore all the insignificant etiquettes of others than wasting her time expressing wrath. It's useless for pea-brains.

But with the recent events damaging her calm mind, Athena was easily irked, just as Hermes desired. Thinking of punching Hermes just to get over with it, Athena put on a smile. My punch won't hurt that much. She thought.

"Aletheia and her daughter are here." Ares announced while Athena was readying her fist, making the goddess halt and look at the two deities entering the pantheon.

Quivering in fear, Yachi held her dear mother's hand tightly. This meeting could change their lives after all. Bitterly regretting her actions earlier, Yachi reflected on her previous actions. She should've stayed quiet. If only Hermes didn't interfere, she wouldn't have said anything. Now everything is going downhill, because of a possibly wrong vision.

She just got her powers. Something could go wrong with it, right? But that never happened before. Well, Asami's case with Medusa was a first too. How would one be blinded that a mere immortal is living with them? Especially Zeus! It just doesn't make any sense. She's doomed, that's for sure.

Oh, just stop, stop, stop! Everything was too confusing. Yachi's truly conflicted, she just want pull through and move onto another day.

The two goddesses of truth bowed their heads down, showing their respect for the upper gods. “Good thing you made it promptly after we sent off Sakusa.” Zeus said with a smile. Sakusa Kiyoomi, son of Hygieia, currently under the supervision of Artemis. He was instructed to call Aletheia, after all, he originally planned on visiting to Earth after the ceremony. Artemis reasoned that, hence he can’t refuse.

"Shouldn't we call in Asami?" Demeter asked, feeling anxious. No one really knows what will happen. Demeter was only enjoying Asami's companion yesterday, now things are like this. If this doesn't go well, she'll lose another daughter. Oh, how will she just react to that?

"Before we do," Aphrodite finally spoke, standing up from her seat. "I just want to remind you all that we should set our feelings aside. Whatever the conclusion of this discussion may be, think before you act." She reminded.

This wasn't the first time a mortal was blessed by immortality, but requiring the discussion of the important gods of Olympus surely was. Meetings were typicaly in the hands of their trusted sons and daughters, however; this was too major to be dealt by them.

"Bring her in." Zeus ordered.

Three words made the room tenser. Every deity noticed how Poseidon stiffened, his agitation worsens minute by minute. It didn't help when Asami entered the pantheon, looking frightened. Poseidon locked eyes with her, his heart burning in discomfort. He never saw her like this before.

"Well?" Hera asked, raising her right eyebrow. These kind of situations bores the hell out of her. What Hera likes the most is being straight to the point. Just decide if you'll keep her or throw her out, that easy.

Yachi and Asami stared at each other. Yachi’s face was full of regret, asking for forgiveness. Asami only smiled, hoping that it will deliver her message. That it wasn’t Yachi’s fault, she would never blame her.

Aletheia stared into Asami’s soul, widening her eyes after a span of seconds. Yachi looked at her mother’s reaction, instantly panicking. “What my daughter saw is true.”

Quiet. Too quiet.

“Asami is not one of us.” Aletheia dropped the bomb. Yet no one spoke. Everything was back to square one. In spite of the fact that they prepared themselves for the truth, it was traumatizing.

Poseidon wants to protest, but if Aletheia already confirmed it, there was no way it’ll make a difference. Hades was on the verge of asking their opinions, if not accidentally making eye contact with an unoccupied space. He’s got a feeling that someone sneaked in and is currently listening to their discussion, someone being Suna Rintarou.

As he was walking towards it, his intuition suddenly disappeared. That only means one thing, Suna knew he saw him and left straight away. Hades shook his head, someone will be in trouble. Back to the real issue, “Now, what?” Hades broke the silence.

“Well..” Apollo is utterly dumbfounded. It feels surreal, is that even possible for a god? He can’t believe it. He wants to deny it even though it’s no use. “We can just make her one of us, right?”

“I don’t think we should.” Athena argued, eyes travelled to her before you know it. She is always determined, standing by her first decision no matter what happens. “We should presume that the real daughter is there, with Asami’s real parents. Switching them would be a better plan.” After what she said, almost every deity in the room swerved their opinions. Athena is the wisest, her words are always right.

“I stand by Athena.” Ares backed her up. Their opinions about this matter were alike, that’s surprising itself. They never get along; having opposite opinions is common for them. It’s truly shocking that they won’t debate over this.

“We should first check if the real one is alive and well. Before dealing with Asami. For now, I’ll reside her in my place.” Hestia said.

“No. Lock her up in the underworld.” Hera contradicted, studying Asami’s response to all of this. But all she can see in her face is blankness. Huh, Hera pondered, Affecting her already? “Hades would look after her better.”

Hestia frowned, offended by what Hera said. Just as she was about to retort, Zeus spoke up. “That’d be better. Does anyone disagree?” Zeus was emotionless. His voice is laced with seriousness, but it looks like he doesn’t really prefer that choice.

No one spoke up. Seems like they’re still processing what the hell just happened. “I’ve got no complaints.” Hephaestus spoke for the very first time, just wanting to go home. He isn’t really close with Asami, so he doesn’t care, at all. Being in the same room with the other upper gods makes him want to vomit.

“Then that’s it.” Zeus replied straightaway, evidently scared that he’ll lament his decision and change it abruptly. “May every Olympian send their desired deity in hopes of finding the real deity in Earth? Until they bring her back, they can’t come back to Olympus. So, I advise you to think wisely.”

Everyone was taken aback. Today is just full of surprises.

“Everything will be fine.”

Lies. All lies, everything was obviously not fine. His closest friend, the one who's always there for him, is not fine. Regrets piled up in Yamaguchi's heart. Reminiscing to what happened back there, he regrets not doing anything. Those eyes, those eyes crying for help. He should've ran to her, he should've hugged her and tell her everything will be okay even though it won't. Because it was always like that. They’re always like that.

Everything will not be fine!

It's been hours since the big commotion, hours since the supposedly ‘meeting’ of the upper gods regarding the issue, Yamaguchi never heard any news since then. It was new, since every time there’s a meeting, words will circulate fast.

Hearing Hera's last words were only making him more anxious. Human world? The real daughter? That can't be it. He sincerely hopes that Yachi was mistaken. That this was all a big joke. The consequence will not be that bad compared to what can possibly happen to Asami.

Yamaguchi groaned in frustration. "Don't think too much." Hanamaki said, feeling guilty watching his fellow Aeolian suffer from his thoughts.

"Asami made a big impact to everyone, Yamaguchi. I don't think Zeus will throw her out that easy." Mattsun added. Seeing how Asami's close not only to a lot of superior gods, but also to Zeus' heart, he can easily turn her into an immortal like them, and then proceed like nothing happened. He did it a lot, so it won’t make sense if he won’t do it to Asami.

"Don't know. If all of them agree, then that will happen. Just like Shirabu’s?" Hanamaki said, making sure to choose his words carefully. He doesn't want to hurt Yamaguchi, but he doesn't want him to hope either. In a matter of fact, it's 50/50 right now. No one is sure what the outcome of their decision will be. Seeing it's been hours yet there still no rumors, it's better to expect for the worse.

With the two discussing what the outcome may be, Yamaguchi stayed silent. His mind was still replaying what happened in the courtyard, only snapping out when he heard a voice calling out to him. He frowned and looked around, not familiar with the voice at all. Down! Frustration was evident in whoever voice that is.

Yamaguchi looked down, only to see Oikawa Tooru, the mighty son of Athena, waving a hand to him like a fool. Oikawa gestured a wind after seeing Yamaguchi’s furrowed eyebrows.

Confusion immediately disappeared from Yamaguchi's face after understanding what he meant. Using the ability he received earlier, he made a wind current, and brought Oikawa up to the floating palace, Anemoi.

After a couple of seconds, Oikawa arrived, laughing at the enjoyable ride. It truly feels like flying, it might even be better! Matsukawa and Hanamaki looked at him disgustingly, not getting his questionable humor at all. "I have news." Oikawa said, switching to a serious demeanor. "It's about Asami."

The three stiffened. They were just talking about it earlier, obviously not prepared by whatever Oikawa might say. "Where did you get that news?" Yamaguchi asked. Oh how he hoped it's good news, or else he wouldn't know how to react at all.

“Well, I heard it from Kuroo who heard it from Bokuto who heard it from Atsumu who heard it from Suna.” Oikawa sat down the sturdy tree, glancing at the three’s confused faces. "You know Suna? Son of Hades." He asked, his companions nodding at him. “Heard it from him.”

“You could’ve just said that in the first place!” Hanamaki complained.

“Shut up Makki, I’m talking!” Oikawa yelled. "Well, he used his ability to sneak in the meeting. And gathered a bit of what they've discussed. He left after he accidentally locked eyes with his father, so it's not much." He chuckled, only imagining the wrath of Hades in his mind.

"Just get to the point, Oikawa. What do you know?" Mattsun asked, irritated by how chatty Oikawa is. He always get sidetracked, always adding useless information to whatever story he's saying. "The point, okay? The point." Repeating it since he know Oikawa doesn’t know how to listen.

"My Zeus, Mattsun!” Making a dramatic gesture, “I'm deeply hurt. I, the great god of wisdom and creativity, immediately went here after gathering information. Appreciate me first!" Complained Oikawa. Hanamaki can already tell he's lying, knowing his first go-to person is Iwaizumi.

“Oh, great god Oikawa Tooru, thank you very much for blessing us with your presence!” Hanamaki sarcastically praised. Yet Oikawa still loved it anyway. “Now just say it, Oikawa.”

Oikawa’s playful expression was immediately replaced with firmness. “It’s true.” He paused, wanting to be cautious. “What Yachi said.”

A sigh from Matsukawa,

Hanamaki’s startled facial expression,

And Yamaguchi’s lifeless eyes.

Every reaction they gave can tell how sadden they are with the news. “And.. Mother told me that,” Oikawa continued, staring at the cloud, unable to look at their faces. “The Olympians will send out deities to find the real daughter.”

“Well, that was unexpected.” Sakusa Kiyoomi whispered to himself while wandering at the park. “A mortal, huh.”

Silently enjoying his free time away from the deities, Sakusa took time in strolling away. He has plenty of time to waste before proceeding to do his duties, the reason why he came down in the first place.

However, he was absolutely not expecting to bump into someone. His eyebrows instantly met, he was already walking slowly. How can a person be so dumb to bump into him?

“Oh, sorry.”

Oh, sorry? His frown only worsens when they sprinted away after saying their apologies to him. Sakusa gazed at the person before him, the aura is different compared to other humans he interacted with.

It feels like..

Like he’s encountering a..

His eyes widen in realization, still staring at the person who’s almost out of his sight now.

A deity.

Anemoi - The floating castle in Aeolia. It is often where Aeolians are found. It has four temples; Glacithyia, Scortus, Forphyrus, and Aurus. All protected by the Four Seasonal Winds and their children.

A/N: Hello! If there are any warnings that I should’ve put, please tell me! There are probably a lot of typographical errors, so please forgive me. I plan to edit all the current chapters next week. ^^ The adventure starts now! The next update will probably be next week, since it’s almost winter break. I just wanted to update before my exams begin, I hope I didn’t disappoint. Thank you for reading! send me an ask! If you have any questions regarding the AU, I would gladly answer them. Or even reviews! It makes my heart happy ^^

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

carolina

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

summary - you meet emily in a bar, she doesn’t realize who you are until she hears a song about her on the radio

warnings - nsfw mentions (nothing graphic), cursing

series masterlist

the second emily layed eyes on you, she was instantly captivated.

you sat at the bar, your back pressed against the counter. a drink was in your hand, your cherry red lips occasionally taking a sip. you were observing the crowd, a slightly smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

and then came your outfit. tight black jeans and heels, a silver sparkly cropped tank as your top. a gold necklace was around your neck and hair in your natural style, or what she assumed was.

while emily could have stayed in her spot sneaking glances ever so often, a gentle shove to her back made her tear away her gaze. “emily come on, i need a drink,” j.j. teased.

the three girls pushed further into the venue, already buzzing about their night out.

penelope had been raving about a bar she had discovered. it wasn’t downtown, further away from everything in location. it was a more formal bar in details such as a taxi service and places to drop of coats and accessories if needed.

with no case being presented, they had all agreed to go out. after heading home and getting changed, they all met up to inevitably get drunk.

while j.j. and penelope quickly got drinks and headed out to socialize on the floor, emily decided to head over to the counter.

you shot a smile at the woman who slid into the seat beside you. she cooly ordered a drink, spinning around to face the same direction as you.

“going with a daiquiri? i can’t blame you, they’re my favorite,” you smiled, figuring you might as well introduce yourself to the woman beside you.

“i’m y/n,” you greeted.

“emily,” she replied.

you never really fell hard for someone, let alone a stranger. but something about emily was different. maybe it was her looks, her raven hair and dark brown eyes were nothing short of beautiful. or the way she spoke, her name flowing easily as she introduced herself.

maybe it was a combination of the two and her personality already begining to make an appearance. all the times you rolled your eyes at people mentioning love at first sight were really contradicting themselves. maybe not love yet but you knew emily was special.

“who are you watching?” emily asked, being the first one to initiate small talk.

you raised your drink in the general sea of people dancing. “alice and mel,” as you spoke, you pointed towards the two girls, each occupied with others. “you?”

“penelope and j.j. can’t believe we’re both the designated sober friends.”

“oh i’m not, i would just much rather be here talking to you,” the flirty remark rolled off your tongue easily. a blush passed across her cheeks, a smile tugging at her lips.

you ordered a second drink, offering to get emily something if she wanted a second. after shaking her head ‘no,’ you shrugged and leaned back against the counter.

“so what brings you to this bar?” emily questioned.

“night off from the public eye. figured i would spend one of last days in the city out with my friends.”

the alcohol clouded emily’s thinking process a bit, not allowing her to process the first part of the question. “last day?”

you nodded, “i live in d.c. most of the time but i have some work which involves traveling. i’ll be back soon, you can definitely find me here at least once.”

another drink was ordered for the both of you, your attention focusing on emily.

“so what do you do for a living?” conversation flowed easily.

“not sure if i want to reveal it so easily. any guesses?” emily replied.

you leaned close to her face. “well,” you started, eyes flickering down to her waist. “i’m going to go with something in law enforcement.”

a brief shocked look passed over emily’s face letting you know you were right.

emily chuckled. “i’m a profiler for the fbi. though with your guess i’m not so sure you aren’t. how’d you know?”

“well you have an imprint of some clip on your side. adding on your pant pocket is stretched out, probably from some badge. i just put the two and two together and guessed,” you answered, taking another sip of your drink.

“alright, how about you? i’ll be honest, i have absolutely no idea what you do and have no clues.”

your heart fluttered at that. “it’s not important. it’s not anything bad, i promise. just would like to enjoy this night without having to think about work,” you answered truthfully.

talk went on, mostly about your mutual interests and introductory questions.

you were only interrupted when some guy took the now empty seat on your right. he opened his mouth to talk, probably some dumb pickup like, but you caught him off. “don’t even try, i don’t play for your team.” both for you were thankfully he left you alone.

emily grinned into her drink. “sorry about that. i really hate men sometimes,” you apologized. “no it’s okay i promise. i’ve had to deal with people like that for so long with my work. you think they would just realize that we just aren’t into them.”

maybe you did internally smile when you realized you may actually have a chance with her.

flirty remarks were tossed around after that, both of you completely forgetting about your friends who came with you.

“come with me to grab my coat?”

emily nodded, leaving her drink at the counter and following you back.

the two of you couldn’t have been away from the center room of the building for more than a few moments before your lips were on hers.

“already undressing me here? thought you’d be more classy than that y/n,” emily groaned as you pushed her jacket back. you hummed against her neck, moving to the pulse point along her jawline.

“come back to mine?” you mumbled in between kisses. emily nodded, “call a cab.”

the entire ride back, the tension was almost unbearable.

you tired to be quiet for the sake of the driver but emily’s occasionally kisses to your neck made it quite difficult. to add on to that, she kept her hand on your thigh, it trailing higher and higher up as you neared your location.

after paying your ride fee (with a pretty hefty tip), you pulled emily out of the cab and towards your apartment bulding. you could tell she was in slight awe just from the outside. but with one quick tug of her hand, she was following you once more.

you fumbled with your key trying to open your door after waving to those at the front and heading up the elevator.

when the door was pushed open, you waisted no time pushing emily in. the two of you moved as quick as possible, kicking off your shoes and slowly moving towards your bedroom.

“you sure you want to do this?”

the question made you grin, “absolutely.”

____

you woke up to the weight on your chest being lifted, the sound of sheets shifting as well. your eyes struggled to open, fighting with tiredness, especially from the night before.

it was easily one of the best experiences ever.

your eyes slid open, head lolling to the side to find the creator of the noise.

emily was sitting up, sheets pooled around her waist. her raven hair fell down her back, covering up the top half of her body.

“what’s up?” you asked, pulling the covers up over your bare chest.

“i need to get going if i want to shower and be at work on time,” emily rushed out, standing up to grab her clothing strewn across the room. “shit,” she mumbled upon seeing her very revealing shirt she wore last night. there was no way to could go home in that.

“just borrow one of mine,” you offered, keeping a pillow over your eyes to block out all of the light.

she mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and was out the door without another word.

you later smiled to yourself at the shirt she chose.

____

neither of you could stop thinking about the night at the bar, well more the night after.

the bruises littering your neck served as a lasting reminder. the amount of concealer used in the days following was definitely a new record.

but, as always, life had to go on.

just like you had told emily, you had flown to los angeles the next day for work. well in your case, it meant photoshoots, writing music, and recording new songs.

with your hookup still in your mind, you channeled all your feelings about it into the best way you could.

emily went to work as normal, pounding through paperwork as no new case had been presented to the group.

j.j. and penelope has cornered her in the break room, already gushing out their girls night before bombarding her with questions. “where did you go that night? we looked around and one of the bartenders said you had already left.

“i know,” emily confirmed. “i saw your text.”

she grabbed her freshly made mug of coffee, already turning around to leave. j.j. followed, not quite done with figuring out where her friend went. “you met someone,” she concluded. “maybe i did j.j., i guess it’s a mystery.”

the conversation was done after that.

after work, everyone went their separate ways. the team all bid their goodbyes, each happy that they would be home on time.

emily grabbed her bag before heading out to her car, sitting in the drivers side for a few minutes before she could head out.

a text from penelope made her phone buzz. emily picked the device up before looking down at the screen and focusing on the message.

‘have you heard y/n y/l/n’s new song? oh my god it’s so good. i know you don’t really follow her but it sounds like your vibe. here’s a link with the cover art if you want to listen. i’m sure it’s playing on the radio too :)’ -p.g.

emily sucked in her breath as she read your name, mind already wandering back to the night at the bar. your words slowly pieced together in her mind, “night off, public eye, last day.” all were related to your status as a celebrity.

the first half of the song went by in a blur, emily only partially listening.

“she feels so good. i met her once and wrote a song about her, i wanna scream yeah i wanna shout it out, and i hope she hears me now,” your voice played out of the speakers.

there was absolutely no way those lyrics were about anyone else.

she examined the cover after listening to the entire song. it was fairly simple, having a more vintage vibe. you were seated on the end of a couch, arms resting on your knees and looking directly at the counter.

what initially caught her eye was your shirt. plastered across the white fabric was a band logo, the exact same one sitting in her drawer. even the small tear along the left shoulder stitching. it was the exact same one she had worn out of your apartment.

there were way to many factors for it to be a coincidence.

the lyrics. the shirt. your one night stand. it all just connected.

she was carolina.

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @sapphicspence @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @zoseph @kissessfordraco @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @matthewgublerswife @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @babyangellee @agentshortstacc

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #luke alvez #matt simmons #tara lewis

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jamilelucato · 4 years

Note

hi!! I just followed and saw your open request for hp fics!! congrats btw!! I was wondering if you could write for me either a Fred Weasley x reader or Sirius Black x reader with Enemies to Lovers? If y/n could be a hufflepuff that'd be awesome too lol ❤️❤️ also I'm here for the banter + unresolved sexual tension 👁️👄👁️ thank you!!

Gryffies and Puffies [F. W.]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: Fred and [y/N] were never close, in fact, they hated each other, but Angelina is determined to change that.

A/N: Hi! Thank you, really! I tried to follow your request as much as I could, sorry if the Hufflepuff portrait is not much Hufflepuff like, I’m not one and I don’t have many friends that are, but I tried to keep it as I knew. Hope you like it! (gif not mine)

Last chance to send a request! || Harry Potter Masterlist

Although, generally, [y/N] doesn’t bother doing her homework way earlier than needed, this time she knew she had to start soon if she wanted a good grade.

Professor Snape wasn’t very fond of the Hufflepuff’s students, so, as a proud member of her house, [y/N] felt like she had to prove the Professor wrong, and show the authoritarian how smart Hufflepuffs can be.

It was the third book she had got from the Library, and this one specifically was just about the subject — Ageing Potions — but [y/N] seemed more lost than before while reading it. Sh even asked, politely, to the Librarian if the book was in English because she couldn’t understand a full paragraph.

“Having trouble there?” asked Angelina Johnson before sitting down in the chair next to [y/N]’s.

[y/N] smiled at her long-time friend. Angelina’s mom was a great friend of [y/N]’s mom, and so, they grew up together, as a weird but cool duo. Angelina had a more explosive personality, when [y/N] was generally softer and prefered to talk instead of punching.

“A lot, actually,” [y/N] sighed. “Have you started yours yet?” the sixth-years Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors shared Snape’s classes, so [y/N] knew Angelina had the same assignment as her.

“Oh, haven’t even started,” answered Angelina, catching one of the books in front of them and flipping through it.

“Angie! Professor Snape already has something against you, don’t give him an extra to work with!” [y/N] retorted, genuinely worried for her friend.

Angelina chuckled. “By something against me, you mean because I sit with the twins?”

“Exactly!” the girls burst into soft laughter.

Angelina knew that [y/N] was out for the Weasley twins ever since third-year when they painted the whole Hufflepuff common room black for one week. Professor Flitwick had to step in to help get rid of the magical paint.

But that wasn’t just it. It seemed as if whenever [y/N] got into trouble, the twins, and more specifically, Fred Weasley, was around.

“So... Hogsmeade this weekend. You comin’?” asked Angelina when the laughter calmed down.

“Nope, got this to finish,” [y/N] sighed, pointing to the parchment blank. “Or gotta start it.”

Angelina protested, “come on, you never come!”

“With you, I don’t!” [y/N] frowned. “You always bring them!”

“They’re my best friends!”

“Ouch,” [y/N] pretended to be offended, but only gained a shove from Angie before her best friend started laughing again. Those two were always laughing.

“I promise they’ll behave,” Angie sparkled her dark brown eyes towards [y/N], and seeing a pit face, [y/N] knew she had lost.

“Fine,” the Hufflepuff agreed, closing the books in front of them, knowing very well that no preparation in the world would make her homework worthy of a good grade in Snape’s eyes. “But you owe me one.”

“Put it on the account,” smiled Angie.

***

“Here she comes, the Hufflepuff princess,” smirked an inpatient Fred Weasley, watching with a brow raised as [y/N] finally got out of the train.

Without staring the identical redheads, [y/N] apologized to Angelina, “sorry, got stuck with Bryan and Clary, they were tellin’ me about the...”

“No one cares, puffie,” Fred whispered, in a voice that sounded almost like a whistle.

“Shut it, Weasley,” [y/N] warned, with a tired look. If her visit to Hogsmeade was going to be like that, she did not know if she’d be able to honour the motto of kindness and forgiveness of her Hogwarts House.

“Oh, she acknowledges I’m here,” Fred smirked again, “finally.”

[y/N] rolled her eyes, wrapping her arm around Angelina’s, while she murmured apologies. The two girls took the lead, while the twins followed, and [y/N] could swear that every announced turn she and Angie decided to take, she could hear Fred sighing in complain — and she was loving that.

“First stop: Honeydukes!” [y/N] shouted, stating the way.

Angelina stopped when she noticed Fred had stopped too.

“No way — Zonko’s first,” he debated.

[y/N] turned around, facing the redhaired boy — really facing him, like she had not done yet. She sometimes forgot how cute he was.

Well, any boy taller than her, she considered cute really, because she loved how they leaned down to look at her — and Fred had a lot of leaning down to do.

“Honeydukes,” [y/N] said, hoping her voice sounded as scary as Professor Snape because he was the one she was trying to imitate.

“Look, you can eat later, puffie, but the good products will sell out if George and I don’t go to Zonko’s now,” he continued his pledge.

“You two go then — I’m going Honeydukes first,” [y/N] was trying her hardest to stand her point, but when Angelina and George puffed next to them, she lost a bit of her posture.

“You expect George and I will let you two girls walk around alone?”

“I don’t need a bodyguard!” [y/N] shouted, crossing her arms.

“If that’s supposed to be your scare-people-away face, then yes, you need bodyguards,” Fred argued.

“Let’s go to Zonko’s first, y/N. It’ll give less time for the chocolates to melt,” Angelina stepped in the argument, knowing that the two would continue to argue all day if they could. In fact, Angelina had already witnessed them arguing two whole hours about which team was better at Quidditch — and it seemed to be horrible to [y/N] offend Angelina as a player just to win the argument.

Puffing the whole way and not daring to face Fred, [y/N] followed them to Zonko’s. It was easier to avoid looking at him when the boys entered the store (already crowded) and got lost from the girls in the middle of the shelves, their eyes shining with new and classic products.

Taking advantage of the momentary peace, [y/N] wandered around the store, looking for something that could be used for good fun, like some board game. She didn’t realize that Fred was right behind her until he opened his mouth.

His voice a whisper so close to her ear, that it shivered all over her: “you should buy it if you can’t stop staring,” he smirked.

She turned around to face the boy way too close than she expected. Trying to step away, she bumped into the shelve, but fortunately, nothing fell.

“I don’t want a stupid...” [y/N] battled with herself if she should say or not the next word, “furry bear,” she ended up saying because she hated leaving phrases unfinished.

“Yeah, okay,” Fred pretended to believe, puffing his chest.

“I don’t,” [y/N] stated again.

“Sure, if you say so,” he continued his little game.

“Just because Hufflepuffs are kind, it does not mean we like all cute and fluffy and soft things, okay,” [y/N] tried to prove her point using of more complex sentences, but noticing his smile, she thought she only contradicted herself.

“Not all Hufflepuffs are the same,” Fred tried to help her.

“Exactly,” [y/N] crossed her arms.

“But you like the fluffy and plushy,” Fred raised an eyebrow, but he did not look into her eyes.

“Yes,” [y/] agreed, before even realizing what she was saying yes to. She only had time to listen to Fred burst into laughter, she could no longer take back what she said.

But for a second, it didn’t matter; his laugh was worth it. Until it wasn’t.

“So you like plushy, huh,” he repeated non-stop.

“Oh, for Helga’s sake,” [y/N] she puffed, desperately trying to get away from the ginger boy.

***

When the boys had finally bought all they wanted from Zonko’s, [y/N] and Angelina were already outside waiting. There weren’t many things that the girls founded interesting there. Angelina favours Quidditch stuff and, [y/N], as pointed out by Fred himself, prefers fluffy things.

“That took a while,” you pretended to whisper when actually you spoke loud enough for the twins to hear.

“Oh, did we make you wait, puffie?” Fred teased, but [y/N] just rolled her eyes, not ready to fall into his traps again.

“Well, for fairness, it’s you girls’ time to pick a place,” George said, and [y/N] involuntarily smiled at the more delicate Weasley twin.

“Honeydukes!!” [y/N] shouted before Angelina could say anything, but it didn’t matter. The three Gryffindors immediately started giggling at the girl’s excitement to visit the candy store.

Angelina and George got themselves involved in a talk about the new best broom in the market, leaving Fred and [y/N] behind. They both played Quidditch too, but George and Angie made no effort to include them in the conversation.

“See,” [y/N] decided to tease Fred since they were closest, “if we had gone to Honeydukes first, you wouldn’t need to carry those many bags around.”

Fred almost forgot how to walk. He was generally the one that started the teasing — [y/N] wasn’t much of the provocative kind unless she was provoked. However, Fred liked it.

“You would be the one carrying the bags then, genius,” Fred pointed out, turning his face sightless to the right to get a glimpse of her reaction.

“How many sweets do you think I’m buying?” she asked, analyzing the three plastic bags in his left hand and the two others in his right one. She compared it to the three chocolate bars and a couple of chocolate frogs she had in mind, and she was sure it would be just one bag.

Fred shrugged, letting out a soft chuckled. [y/N] might have had a point, but he was not going to admit it.

When they finally arrived at the candy shop, Fred lost sight of [y/N] because she fastly ran inside. Angelina entered the shop too, but George and Fred had so many bags they were afraid to walk in, so they decided to take turns inside.

Fred went in first, excited to see how [y/N] would be in her environment, but he didn’t like what he saw. As soon as he walked in, he saw her in a corner on the left-back, surrounded by some boys. At that distance, Fred would not guess they were Hufflepuffs.

His first instinct was to suppose she was in danger, but then she laughed. Really laughed, in the sweetest way possible, in a way she had never laughed to his jokes.

He knew she was alright, but he wasn’t. He rushed out of the store, surprising George.

“Back so soon?” George asked.

Fred was not in the mood to tell his twin that might have caught feelings for a certain uneasy girl, so he lied.

“Yeah, had no money left. I mean, if I still want a butterbeer,” Fred said, shrugging and taking his brother’s place as the guard of their Zonko’s products.

George said no more, glad to have the chance to buy something sweet for himself. In the middle of the night, after running around with Fred, George loved having a chocolate frog to recharge his energies.

“Next stop,” said Angelina, once the three got out of the candy store, “Three Broomsticks.”

Everybody agreed with ununderstanding whispers. [y/N], as she planned, got out of Honeydukes with only one plastic bag, that she teasingly raised towards Fred, who rolled his eyes, with a troubled expression.

His reaction wasn’t the one [y/N] was anticipating. She wanted him to make a quick remark, mess with her bad eating habits, anything like that. But ignore a clear chance to mess with her — she did not expect that.

She rushed to Angie’s side, happy to get a chance to gossip with her best girl about what the boys she had met in the shop had just told her.

“So, Luke told me that Cormac McLaggen is chasing after your friend Alicia, is that true?” [y/N] asked.

Angelina turned her face to her best friend, confused with such a question. Not that the two never gossip before, but [y/N]’s tone was generally less invasive and judge than this.

“Why? Are you interested?” Angie asked, raising a brow.

[y/N] almost choked.

“Interested? Me?” she puffed. “Please.”

Behind the girls, one of the twins was paying very close attention to the conversation.

“He’s not really your type, is he?”

“I’m not interested in him,” [y/N] debated. “I could be, but I ain’t.”

Angie turned her face to the front again before pulling the door of the Three Broomsticks. The four got in, and George was looking around for an empty table when [y/N] asked: “what are you guys taking?”

“Butterbeer,” the three Gryffindors answered together, causing the girl to smile at their synchronization.

“I’ll get it; you go sit down,” she was actually being nice because, of all of them, she was the one with fewer bags.

Being friends with Madam Rosmerta had its privileges, such as [y/N] was first attended as soon as she reached the counter.

“Hey, Madam Rosmerta! How’s it goin’?” [y/N] asked, working extra hard her charm. The whole counter was staring at her, half angry, half not believing, that she was being served before them.

When the woman finally gave [y/N] her drinks, she headed to the table her friends had picked, noticing with an exhalation that the only chair left was in the middle of Fred and George.

“That was fast,” pointed out George, getting his butterbeer with a smile and tossing you a sickle.

“No need, it’s on me,” [y/N] said, giving George his coin back. “Actually on Rosmerta, but that’s supposably to be a secret.”

Angelina smiled, reaching for her cup and savouring the butterbeer as if it was more tasteful because it had been free.

Fred looked at you without exactly turning but grabbed his drink anyway.

“Thanks,” he whispered, this time Fred’s tone had no sign of banter.

[y/N] was scared they would remain in that dreadful silence, bt Angelina took her chance to tell everyone about her father’s newest accomplishment and how it would affect them — he had a bought a summer house near the beach. She was sure he would allow her to bring them for a weekend.

“Wow, Angie, count me in! Would love beach day!” [y/N] beamed.

Angelina chuckled. “I’ll see if we can go next holiday.”

The whole table cheered in excitement, and George was so happy that he decided to buy them the next round of butterbeer.

When the day in Hogsmeade was over, [y/N] and Fred got back to their usual bickering. George knew that would happen, but Angie was, in fact, hoping for them to finally develop a real friendship, better than the day to day teasing.

Days and months went by. [y/N] ended up getting the better side of Professor Snape, after all — he said her essay was the best one from that class.

Angelina kept trying to connect Fred and [y/N], but it was like she was running from him. Fred seemed neutral about it all, and that was a first.

“So my father got back to me...” Angelina started telling the twins as soon as the Quidditch practice was over.

“And?” George was genuinely enthusiastic.

“And we can go for the Easter holiday!” cheered Angelina. “Unless your mom doesn’t allow you to come...”

“Molly will be pleased to have two less in the house,” admitted George.

“Is [y/N] coming?” Fred asked, raising his voice so he could be heard since he was in the back of the tent.

Angelina exchanged looks with George before answering, scared that he wouldn’t like her answer. “Yes, she is, and I hope you behave.”

“Are you saying that to her?” Fred retorted.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t the one who messes with her,” Angelina tilted her head towards Fred, who just shrugged, puffing as if he was innocent. “Well, gonna invite Alicia and Katie. See you later.”

***

Part of [y/N] wondered why she had said yes. Sure, Angelina Johnson was her best friend of all times, but still, as her father drove you two to the beach house, all she could think of was that it would be a house filled with Gryffindors and she would be the only outsider.

She wasn’t friends with the others. She could become friends with Alicia and Katia, she guessed, and George was somewhat of a colleague, but Fred? Oh, Helga, she signed in for a nightmare.

Since the Hogsmeade trip a couple of months ago, things without explanation kept on happening with [y/n] more often than before. Clothes coloured in bright pink, her cat turning in with two tails instead of just one, and she even received letters with nothing written on — those were the most confusing of the pranks. Again, she was almost sure it was Fred’s fault, but since the pranks were harmless, she never confronted him about them.

Angelina and [y/N] had time to settle themselves down in a room just for the two — Katie and Alicia were getting another one, and Fred and George the one far most at the end of the corridor.

When the six kids were all together, things started getting, well, exciting. There was no way Fred and George were going to let that trip be a bore.

Without parents around, you six stayed on the beach until 4 a.m, watching the sun rising far away. Alicia had brought some firewhisky, but since it was only two bottles, the group decided to save for later.

When [y/N] woke up on the second day, she found herself lying in a mattress-shaped floater, tossed in the middle of the pool.

“WEASLEYS!!” she shouted, waking the whole house up.

With no wand around, [y/N] had no option but to jump in the pool and swim to get out of there. When she managed to cross half of the backyard, Fred and George appeared at the door, and you took a glimpse inside the house, where the girls ate breakfast like nothing was happening to [y/N].

“Morning-swim, huh?” Fred crossed his arms, smirking slightly.

“You’ll pay for that, Fred,” she replied, shaking, the coldness of the water that soaked her combined with the wind of the beach was not doing her good.

“Cute pyjamas, puffie” he continued teasing as she passed him by — his eyes following her back as she went upstairs. The nickname was not something she was quite fond of, especially because she knew he used it just because of her house.

George nudged his twin. “Don’t ask why she doesn’t like you,” George said, leaving his brother at the door and sitting down next to Alicia.

“What? You helped,” pointed down Fred, sitting too.

“Yeah, but she likes me,” George raised a brow, his confident expression did not even shake at the dark look his twin cast.

*** When the night came, [y/N] was sure she had gotten a tan, but after she got in the shower and took a good look in front of the mirror, it was like the tan was gone. She wasn’t hurt, though, so it wasn’t all bad.

Getting downstairs, she noticed that the group hadn’t been able to keep themselves away from the firewhisky any longer, because the only two bottles were displayed in the middle of the table set outside in the backyard.

[y/N]’s white dress was practically sparkling in the dim light of outside, and for a minute, Fred was out of breath, staring at her in a way he had never before.

Well, actually... Never before since they arrived. But Fred was not gonna mention the other thousand times she left him breathless by her looks.

“Where’s Angie?” [y/N] asked before sitting down, noticing that her bestie was the only one left.

“Still showering. Angie says she can feel the sand everywhere yet,” explained Katie.

“And who’s to blame...” [y/N] wondered aloud, trying to provoke the twins who had been fighting everyone in the sand earlier.

Even though Fred teased her the whole afternoon — how she would never win him in the fight, how she was laze, how he was fast — she didn’t give in, preferring to get sunbathed. It didn’t work though, but at least she didn’t have sand in all weird places now.

Angie finally got outside, wearing a beautiful set of shorts and a floral blouse.

“Let’s start the game, come on, I really need it,” she said, and the whole table agreed.

They played an updated version of beer pong, the muggle game, and [y/N] was losing badly to everyone else. That meant that she was the one drinking more, and, for Helga, she was not used to it, but with time, the effects seemed to disappear.

When the game was over, [y/N] had been sitting for minutes at the edge of the pool, wetting only her feet. There was a cup of firewhisky in her hands, but even if not drunk, she knew she shouldn’t keep drinking it.

Someone found a way to play muggle music, and Angelina, Alicia, Katie and George were having the time of their lives in the improvised dance floor.

Fred was walking, as silently as he could, towards [y/N]. He wasn’t very fond of the music playing, and he wasn’t as drunk as the others. Generally, he would have pretended to be, like George was doing, just for the fun of it, but watching [y/N] all alone, he knew he had to something about her.

“Hey,” she smiled softly, noticing the boy sitting down next to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, but she never answered. She put the cup down though — Fred thought that was a good sign. “I’m sorry about the pool earlier.”

[y/N] stared back at him, this time trying to analyze every aspect of his face. Like how he had moe freckles on his left cheek then the right. How his nose was big but yet perfectly pleasant to look at. How he was leaning towards her even though he wasn’t noticing. But she did. And she leaned in too.

“You know, if you wanted my attention, there were other ways to get it,” she said, surprising herself with the bravery to speak up.

Fred froze.

“You could have apologized to my cat, that would’ve been nice, for starters,” she said, this time surprising him, who laughed it off.

“He didn’t like the extra tail?”

“He actually did,” she joined him in the laughter, remembering her pet playing with a smile in her dorm room because he now had two tails. “Hey, how did you found out that he was my cat and not any other?”

Fred smiled in the dim light.

“He was the fluffiest,” was his answer. [y/N] elbowed him, pretending to be angry, but she knew that, unfortunately, her cat was the furriest cat Hogwarts had ever seen.

After a moment of silence, [y/N] decided she better get back to her room — and she hoped this time she would wake up there too. Getting up without warning, she ended up scaring Fred.

“Where are you going?” he asked, getting up too.

“Back to bed,” she said. “Better get a good night sleep before tomorrow — it is our last day after all.”

Fred wrinkled his nose. He knew she was right, but he also knew that it was his last chance to do something with her, at least, under the spark of the moon.

But she seemed so far away...

“Well, at least let me accompany you,” Fred offered [y/N] his arm, which she took with a smile.

They walked in silence — the rest of the group didn’t even notice they were gone.

[y/N] was about to get to her room when Fred stopped her.

“Wait,” he was confused whether it was the best time or not, but it was his only time so... “wait here, I’m gonna grab something for you.”

He walked to the end of the corridor, rushing to his room. Fred was rummaging through his suitcase, looking for what he wanted to give her.

[y/N] waited patiently — and quite anxiously — for whatever Fred was going to give her.

“Here, ” he said, giving her something he had hidden in his back. [y/N] grabbed from his hands, surprised with the texture of what she got. “I don’t know if Angelina ever mentioned me and my brother want to open a joke shop, and well, this product... You kinda inspired me to do it.”

She studied the hairy, yellow ball in her hands. Thankfully, she held it gently, because when she turned the thing over, she noticed that two little blue eyes were staring at her, startled.

“Oh my Helga, Freddie, is this alive?” she asked, but the answer didn’t really matter because she was already petting the small furry ball.

“It’s she, actually,” he smiled, noticing how happy she was with the gift. “Has no name, though.”

“What is she?” she asked while playing with the pet, noticing she was warming up to [y/N]’s touch.

“George and I named it Pygmy Puff — a miniature Puffskein,” Fred explained, petting the furry ball too. “They are generally pink or purple, so yours was made with a lot of care.”

[y/N] looked up from the yellow Pygmy Puff to Fred and tilted her head, uncontrollably smiling.

“Guess the Pygmy Puff has something to do with me too,” [y/N] teased.

“The whole thing has something to do with you,” Fred let out, blushing immediately, but [y/N] didn’t notice. Fred fake-coughed. “So, what will you name her?”

[y/N] thought about it for a while. “I guess it would only make sense if she was named Gryffie. After all, her creator is a Gryffindor,” [y/N] blushed but avoided looking at Fred, focusing solemnly in the Pygmy Puff.

“It makes sense,” Fred looked from the pet to the girl and bit his inner cheek. “Two houses come together for an invention.”

“That’s the Hogwarts spirit,” [y/N] laughed it off. “Thank you, Fred,” she said before leaning on tiptoes to place a kiss on Fred’s cheek.

The Pygmy Puff enjoyed the time with no attention and walked from [y/N]’s hand to her shoulder, and Fred stared at the fluffy thing while [y/N] kissed him.

And somehow it felt like the pet was trying to say something.

[y/N] stepped away and said good-night, entering her room with a sad look. She didn’t want the night to end. So, after placing Gryffie on the bed, she turned to the door, ready to open it again. But Fred was faster.

They stared for a full second before both rushed towards each other, locking their lips in a soft but potent kiss.

Fred’s hands found her waist and pulled her closer, as closer as Fred could — close as he always wished she was. [y/N], of course, ran her fingers through his hair, something she had been wanting to do for a while now, and she was glad to find such fluffy and soft hair.

They were breathless, but neither wanted to pull away. Fred leaned to her neck, finding her sensitive spot right away, and there was nothing better than hearing her moan so close to his ear.

Behind them, the Pygmy Puff made some sound weird, but they just laughed it off and pulled each other closer again, as if they could be closer than they were.

The Pygmy Puff cried again, and this time non-stop, so [y/N] had to pull away. She was the mother of that pet for only a couple of minutes, but she was very protective over it already.

“What is it?” she murmured towards the fluffy ball at the same time Fred cleared his throat, making [y/N] turn to Fred again, who was looking at the stairs.

“Hi, little love birds,” giggled a very drunk Angelina.

Fred and [y/N] were instantly red, from head to toes, but Angelina and the rest of the group didn’t even care, they just couldn’t giggling and bumping into each other.

“Hey, George, I think I’ll better sleep in your room,” Angelina spoke again. “I believe you’ll have an empty bed.”

“Good idea,” George said, locking arms with Angelina to protect her from falling — she could do it at any moment now. “Good-night, love birds. Or should I say love puffs?”

The four teenagers were laughing out loud, they could wake someone up if only someone were sleeping. George and Angie closed their door as soon as they walked in and winking at [y/N] and Fred, Alicia closed the door of hers and Katie’s room.

“Well, I guess I just lost my bed, puffie” Fred sighed, pretending to be upset, leaning on the door frame.

His eyes sparkled in the dim light of her room. [y/N] smirked, pulling him by his collar, suddenly very aware of her Femme Fatale powers.

“Good thing I have an extra one here,” she said, kissing him again, and again, and again...

#fred weasley #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff #pygmy puff #gryffindor #hufflepuff #fred and george imagine #fred imagine #angelina johnson #george weasley

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prongsies · 4 years

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Adore You • Remus Lupin

PAIRING: Remus Lupin x Reader SUMMARY: An unlabeled relationship complicates things between you and Remus WARNINGS: possible mild language A/N: This has been in my drafts for so long I’m so happy it’s finally finished!!! Fine Line Master list

Remus Lupin never believed in the idea of opposites attracting, mainly in the context outside science. He’s heard this far too many times from his mother, who had him watch muggle telenovelas on their small television at home. He didn’t understand the idea - a ‘bad boy’ falling in love with a ‘good girl’? why would she even be okay being with someone like that?

But his mind changed upon meeting a particular girl named (y/n). She was the complete opposite of him! She was the ray of sunshine in his particularly cloudy day. He had even joked multiple times about how impossible it is to believe that she was able to rope him into her rainbow paradise.

And she laughs it off, cuddling closer to him in the common room sofa near the fire, listening to him read a brand new book towards her. While he does so, he takes his time to admire her - how her smooth honey tanned skin contrasted his paled scarred ones, how his calloused fingers intertwined with the soft pads of her own.

They were the complete opposite, which had also brought problems along the way.

See, (y/n) had always voiced out that she wanted a relationship - a serious one that would last her lifetime. She made that point when they’ve confessed their feeling for one another. But Remus? Remus was unsure of the idea.

As much as Remus liked her - loves her, even - he was afraid his furry little problem will cause major complications along the way. He was afraid he would eventually end up hurting her. Little did he know that by avoiding the topic of making things official has been hurting her far too much already.

"A knut for your thoughts?” Sirius’ voice pushed his thoughts out his mind as he prodded his shoulder with his finger.

“My thoughts are worth more than a knut, Padfoot” Remus retorted, slapping Sirius’ hands away in irritation.

The full moon hadn’t been too kind to him the night before, leaving his muscles aching and his body covered with fresh wounds soon to scar. He wouldn’t have left his bed at all today if only their exams weren’t nearing. His three friends insisted they’d provide him their notes instead, just to get him to rest even for a day, but knowing them, he wouldn’t be able to understand anything they wrote.

So of course he forced himself out of bed, forced himself to eat his breakfast and lunch just so he could get through the day. That’s all he needed, really - to get through the day. After that, he’ll be able to go back to the Gryffindor Tower, take a well-deserved hot bath in the prefect’s bathroom, then cuddle up next to (y/n) on the common room sofa.

He could fight back the smile making its way onto his face at the thought of her body pressed up against him, a blanket over their shoulders as they continue their journey in Narnia, a book (collection) gifted to him by (y/n).

He frowned once more as Sirius’ interrupted him again, this time with his palm outstretched towards the prefect, a single silver coin placed in the middle, “I believe a sickle if enough for your thoughts now?”

“Barely, but I’ll take it” Remus grinned, snatching the coin from Sirius’ hand who grinned proudly, “I’m thinking about (y/n)”

“That’s not fair” The older boy exclaimed, catching the attention of both James and Peter who were busy rushing an assignment to be passed in their next class. “You always think about her”

“That’s because I like her”

“But you’re too chicken to actually seal the deal” Sirius pointed out, a smirk still on his lips, “Best do it as soon as you can, Moony. You’ve got quite a woman on your hands, let her go and there’s someone else already waiting to swoop in”

“What do you mean by that?” Remus asked.

“I’m just saying there are talks about her getting really impatient about your whole... ‘relationship’“ Sirius wagged his fingers to mimic quotation marks, “and with those talks come other talks about boys in our year already planning to woo her - myself included”

“Shameless, Pads” James warned from his seat, surprisingly listening to the conversation despite doing something else.

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind being with her” Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, knowing the effect his words had on Remus, and hoping maybe he’d put the poor girl out of her misery. She did express to him her fears of Remus walking out on her, and how easy it would be since they weren’t even a thing... so maybe this approach would get the idea into Remus’ oblivious head.

“I mean, with my reputation, I think I’d actually consider settling down if I were with someone like her” Sirius continued, eyes darting to James who immediately understood where he was going with.

“Exactly!” The bespectacled boy butted in, abandoning his parchment to lean closer to Remus, “This is not in bad faith, Moons, you know that. We just... want you to consider it s’all”

Remus swallowed thickly, feeling too hot under the stares of his best friends. “i’ll think about it” he stated before gathering his belongings in a rush, leaving the three in the courtyard as he made his way back into the castle.

“I reckon I should’ve tried a better approach?” Sirius spoke after a stretch of silence, looking over at James whose look says it all.

“You think?”

*★,°:.☆*.°

Remus let out a contented sigh as (y/n)’s fingers ran through his hair. They found themselves in the privacy of Remus’ dormitory this time, his head resting on her chest as he read his book aloud for her. He was pleasantly surprised the boys had snuck into Hogsmeade again, leaving the room all to themselves.

“Rem?” Her soft voice nearly brought Remus’ heart to explode out of adoration.

Shutting the book and tossing it on the bedside table, he turned to look up at her, resting his chin onto her stomach as their eyes met. “Yes, (y/n)?”

She seemed to be lost in another world as she smiled down at him, before something flickered in her eyes making her smile falter a bit despite of how hard she tried to hide it, “It’s nothing, Rem. Let’s get back to the book, yeah?”

“It’s not nothing, (y/n)” Remus stopped her as she reached over to grab the book, his hands holding her hips down on the bed, “It’s clearly bothering you. Let’s talk about it”

“I’d rather not”

“(y/n)! Just the person I want to see!”

Remus groaned as rolled away from (y/n) settling on the space beside her, on his back now. She hopped up from the bed, wrapping her arms around Sirius in greeting, who presented her with a paper bag full of Honeydukes sweets. “Advanced Happy Birthday, love!”

“It’s not until tomorrow, Siri!” She giggled, bringing Remus’ eyes to widen. Shit, he forgot her birthday!

His eyes caught James who seemed to understand his thoughts, his mouth going agape trying to fish for an idea on the spot. “Uhm, Pads, I think I forgot my quill in the courtyard a little while ago”

“Nonsense, you have it right there” Sirius motioned towards the quill poking out of James’ bag.

“Just go out, will you” The raven-haired boy grumbled under his breath, pushing Sirius and Peter out the room, before tossing a look towards Remus as he shut the door behind him.

(y/n) was grinning happily as she settled back onto Remus’ bed, peering into the bag full of goodies with her face lit up like it’s Christmas morning. Remus’ heart clenched in his chest at the realization that it wasn’t him who made her that happy today, but the same boy who said he’d be willing to change for someone like her.

Things were clear to Remus now - he doesn’t deserve her.

“You and Sirius would make a cute couple, you know?” He stated before he could even think about it.

Her eyes left the bag to look at him, her smile dropping into a look of confusion, “What?”

He scrambled to sit beside her, grasping her hand in his, not missing the way it shook slightly probably from nervousness, “I think- I think Sirius would do a much better job at treating you better”

“Are you seriously pushing me towards one of your friends, Remus” She asked incredulously, snatching her hand away from his, “Because if you are, you better think of what you’ll say next”

Remus’ hand ran through his hair in frustration, his thoughts contradicting each other in his head, “I just- I don’t think it’s best if we don’t take this further?”

“Don’t take this further?” She was furious now, Remus could tell, “So what’s all this shameless flirting for? For fun? Because I’ve expressed how much I liked you and you thought you wanted to take advantage of that?”

“It’s not that-”

“Merlin fucking beard, this is exactly what I told Sirius would happen!” She was on her feet now, walking over to the bed opposite his, “I told him you’d walk away from me so easily - I told him! He told me you wouldn’t but here you are!”

“You thought I’d walk away from you?”

Her anger-flared eyes turned to him, though it looks as if she was angrier at herself. “You told me you didn’t want a relationship, I respected that! I was willing to wait! Willing to deal with the uncertainty of what exactly this is because I love you!”

“You love me?”

“Please let me let this out before- before we stop this” Her knees collapsed under her, bringing her to sit on the bed, panting as she kept her face in her hands. She let out a sigh, turning to Remus with teary eyes.

“I just wanted to love you, Remus. I never asked anything from you, never asked you to say you love me too, never asked you to say you’re mine. Merlin, I didn’t even ask you for a birthday present even though by the look on your face a little while ago, it’s clear you’ve forgotten”

Remus frowned guiltily, head dropping in shame as his eyes connected with his hands, both placed rigidly over his lap. He was surprised when they were taken in hers, squeezing them tightly as she knelt in front of him, staring up at him forcing their eyes to connect.

“I just want to adore you for all my life, Remus Lupin” She concluded, “and- and if it’s your wish to end this? I respect it wholly. Just know that I’m here, whether you need me as a friend or you’re ready to commit, I’ll wait for you”

Without another word, she leaned up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, letting his hands go as she made her way out the room.

It took him a couple of minutes to register everything she said, and before he knew it, his legs were taking him out the dormitory, the wooden floorboards rough against the pads of his bare feet as he chased after her down the stairs.

He was lucky no one was in the common room when he finally caught up to her, pulling her by the arm into him as he finally connected their lips. Her arms immediately found their way around his neck, melting into the kiss as they communicated both their frustrations and desires.

“I was so wrong” Remus mumbled, as their lips continued to move in sync, feeling intoxicated just by her lips alone.

He had to force himself to pull away, just so they could have this conversation properly. His heartbeat quickened at the sight of her dazed state, her eyes looking intently into his as if she couldn’t believe someone like him is actually real.

“I was so wrong to think that keeping myself away from you was the best way to avoid hurting you” He breathed out, aware of the butterflies in his stomach because of just how good it felt having his lips brush against hers as he spoke, “when I had been hurting you all along”

“Rem-”

“Shh, let me finish, love” Remus chuckled, smiling upon seeing her own smile making its way onto her lips after hearing him use a term of endearment towards her for the first time.

“I am so crazy about you! I’m convinced a day does not have enough hours for me to think about you, because you’re always the one in my mind. I know I’ve been awful making you feel like this, and I understand if you’ve changed your mind about us after everything that happened minutes ago but” He could help but let a peck on her lips escape, not getting enough of her lips feel, “But I want to be with you. I can’t imagine myself being with anyone but you!”

“I’ve been so patient”

“I know, my love, I know” Remus held her against him tighter, “And I’ve been an absolute tosser taking advantage of that, and I promise you I’ll make up for it - every second you’ve spent waiting and more”

“Suddenly, I’m not so sure anymore”

“Then I’ll be the one waiting for you” Remus smiled reassuringly, “I’ll be the one waiting for you this time. You can even break my heart a hundred times over and over again, and I’ll still wait for you”

“Are you sure you want this? That you’re not forcing yourself just for my sake”

“I am an thousand percent sure I want this” Remus dug his fingers on her waist in a tickle, making her giggle and squirm slightly, “And I promise you I’ll make up for everything. So please, would you make me the happiest man in the world by allowing me to be your boyfriend”

She smiled, her arms tightening around his neck as she brought their lips back together, relishing the way they felt and tasted, mumbling a ‘yes’ in between the kiss. A grin spread across Remus’ face as his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off her feet and twirling her, making her squeal in joy.

They were so lost in each other they had completely missed the three boys standing near the portrait hole, watching in delight as the new couple started making their way up the stairs.

“Would you look at that” Sirius stated proudly, nudging James who was grinning as well.

The bespectacled boy nodded, before mumbling “Finally”

FINE LINE TAG LIST: @cedricisnotonfire @rexorangecouny @susceptible-but-siriusexual

#remus lupin #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter imagines #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagines #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders x reader

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struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor · 3 years

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I don't get it - what's wrong with the BB interview? Even you've addressed how PTD wasn't that great yet still raced to #1. They could change their rules but to what exactly? It's a popularity chart. If the same people are streaming the same song over and over - is that not precisely what manipulating the charts is? I mean, we're smart and found a great loop hole but how is this great for the boys? Making them think they're more popular than they actually are? PTD was weak, man and I love them??

I'm really glad you asked me this question because I wanted a chance to talk about what I did find insightful about the article. To be honest, when I started reading the article I thought "They're right", but the more I read it the more the lack of professionalism and the clear agenda it had bothered me.

First of all, talking about chart manipulation isn't a bad thing. But paying a group to be on the cover of your magazine and mentioning their achievements only to question them isn't the right way to do it. You think they'd do this with anyone else? Had it been Dua Lipa, the article would've been about her artistry and achievements in the industry, and she would've been portrayed in a positive light. Did BB even treat BTS as artists? To me they were only treated as an interesting phenomenon.

BB could've done an exposé on BTS and chart manipulation, but not like this. It's a bit rich for BB to question BTS only. Instead of opening a discussion about the merit of the charts and the ways the industry circumvents BB's guidelines, the article points fingers only at BTS, implying that, in contrast with Dua or Olivia, BTS are cheating the charts. BB essentially avoids taking responsibility for its own methods and its influence in the industry by saying BTS are the only ones compromising the legitimacy of the charts and their value. It's an easy way to make BB look good and BTS look bad - the charts and the US industry aren't the problem, BTS and the Korean music industry are. Throughout the whole article, the way they talked about the "fascinating" case of HYBE and BTS's success felt more like an insult than a compliment, or even an objective analysis. Anything related to Kpop or Korea was more or less used against BTS.

Second of all, the way they discussed chart manipulation was deeply flawed. They didn't lie about Army's strategies nor were they wrong to question the ethics of mass buying, but they should've done their research first. Quoting twitter users, alluding to "experts", admitting they didn't know exactly how Army operated, etc. is really bad journalism. They want to expose BTS for chart manipulation without proper evidence? The language they used conveyed ambiguity and uncertainty too. They never explicitly stated things, it was all hearsay. What kind of journalism is this?

But, again, even if they had done their research, targeting BTS without likewise exposing other artists on the charts is having a clear bias.

The article was also very interested in HYBE. This is another interesting topic, sure, but HYBE isn't BTS. If they wanted to write about HYBE they should've done so in another article. And it's telling that they talked about HYBE almost exclusively in an unflattering light. What they said wasn't false: for example, they questioned the company's longevity and worth due to their undeniable dependence on BTS - I agree with that, but what about HYBE's success story? BB aren't anticapitalism. They are pro-money hungry companies, and HYBE is certainly smart when it comes to money. Were it any other company, BB would've been all over that. But with HYBE they mention Army, and how HYBE exploited the fan-artist relationship, as the reason behind the label's success only to make HYBE and Army look bad. Artists profit from their fans, but usually no one talks about it; it's bad form. We talk about how cool and iconic Beyoncé is, not the amount of money she made, directly or indirectly, from her fans - or rather, the money she makes from her fans is legit and not worth questioning, unlike the money BTS make from Army. (As an aside, had Beyoncé been on their cover, do you think BB would've questioned the legitimacy of her feminism/activism due to the money she earned from a clothing line made at sweatshops employing mostly woc?...)

I agree that the relationship between BTS and Army is interesting, but streaming is only the tip of an iceberg that BB didn't bother to uncover.

To me, it's clear they had an agenda. The way they spoke about BTS's diplomatic passports, HYBE, Army, the charts, etc. - all of it had a negative connotation and contributed to the narrative of BTS being shady or puppets, or whatever. It was more of the "dark side" of Kpop. Why does no one talk about the dark side of American pop?

Also, like I mentioned, the article tackled too many topics. If you want to talk about HYBE, write an article about HYBE - the company's executives were quoted more than most of the members; it doesn't make sense. And if you want to talk about chart manipulation, that's a separate topic that shouldn't be the main focus of a magazine Army is expected to buy. Who, if not Army, is expected to buy the 7 different editions for each member? Army is supposed to buy an article slamming them and BTS?

There is a time and a place to discuss these things. Most of what was said was legitimate, but the authors twisted the truth to fit their narrative when they refused to do actual research on the topic, quoted fans of artists competing with BTS on the charts, and refused to look at chart manipulation as a whole and how other artists are attempting it as well (they even pointed out that other artists' fans try to do what Army does but less successfully - which is why they are... what, more innocent than Army?...).

Another thing that was unprofessional was the fact that BTS were rarely quoted directly. On the last part of the article, regarding the English singles, I can't even form an opinion on what was said due to the ambiguous, even manipulative way, the section was written. They quote an executive on how BTS compromised with the company and make it seem like BTS were unwilling to release English tracks (which fits their narrative), but they don't quote the members themselves. In the initial article I read they noted that RM remembered the situation differently and quote him saying "There was no alternative", which made it seem like RM was never in conflict with HYBE. But now the article states "RM wasn’t fond of the idea, though he acknowledges it was a crucial way to keep buzz alive during the pandemic. “There was no alternative,” he says.", and now it seems like RM opposed Dynamite at first, contradicting the initial article. This correction only corroborates with BB's narrative. But what about the members that were allegedly in favor of the single? And why is Jin only quoted to share the struggles of recording the song? Why was nothing positive said about Dynamite when we know for a fact they must've said it? It simply wasn't interesting to BB. The members were only quoted when they had something juicy to say, and we were never offered much context or told what question they were replying to, what tone they used or how it fit the real time conversation BTS were having with each other and with the interviewers.

Essentially, although the writers didn't lie about most things, the article was biased, ambiguous, unprofessional and lacking in direction. It was like three insufficiently researched and prejudiced articles in one.

Also, while PTD wasn't that great, there are many not so great songs that make it to n.1 on BB. Being great has nothing to do with your results in the chart. Many artists make songs no one really likes yet we're forced to listen to them on the radio anyway. Fans streaming like it's their job and bulk buying songs isn't right, but at the very least you can say that it is their choice, and it reflects the fans love for their artist even if it doesn't always reflect their love for the song. A lot of American artists have it easy and top the charts with generic songs that the GP listens to without even meaning to - they're just shoved down our throats by their labels. That's chart manipulation too, isn't it? What is BB supposed to represent? Popularity? If so, maybe BTS don't deserve the top spot, but maybe those artists who do only get that number 1 because their labels know how to put them up there. If more artists had the same treatment that artists like Dua Lipa get, then maybe the n. 1 song would be different. Isn't that chart manipulation as well?

#ask #bts #billboard #I hope I expressed myself correctly #this is a long post but whatever #thanks for the ask #sorry for any typos

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 3 years

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JATP Analysis/Theory: Alex and Carrie

I know I need to stop but I am having way too much fun overanalysing this show. Besides I promised you all a Alex and Carrie post so here it is. So my newest theory is kind of to do with the phantoms unfinished business. All through out season 1 there has been this theme of connection, Julie’s connection to the boys, their connection to Julie’s mum, Julie’s connection to her mum, Luke’s connection to his parents etc. We also know that the phantoms have some burnt bridges, with their parents and with Bobby. Julie too also has a broken bridge between her and Carrie. I think their unfinished business is to mend all of those broken relationships and reconnect with everyone. This is where I think Alex and Carrie come in.

I think that Alex and Carrie are going to be really important in reconnecting everyone and here is why I think that. I think you can draw alot of parallels between Alex and Carrie and I think the show producers have created these parallels because they want us to connect Alex and Carrie.

The first parallell is something I have spoken about before and I think it’s talked about alot in the fandom, but many of the characters in the show have a colour connected to them Alex and Carrie both have the same colour connected to them, pink.

In fact its very rare to see either of these characters not wearing pink, it happens occassionally but not very often. This is interesting considering on the surface these are very different characters.

But the colour pink had a lot of symbolism around it and even more interesting than that, different shades of pink have different meanings. Pink is made up from two colours, Red and White. Red symbolises, passion, energy, power and sometimes agression. White symbolises purtiy, morality and innocence. Obviously these are two contradicting colours but when you put them together the passion of red is softened by the purity of the white creating a calming, romantic and gentle loving colour. The more red in the pink the more energetic the colour.

Alex wears alot of light pink. Light pink is a much softer and calmer colour than the brighter pink that Carrie is often seen in. And that fits their individual personalities, Alex is a much calmer and softer person whereas Carrie is more engergetic and agressive. However pink is also a playful colour and I would say both characters have shown that playful side to them when Carrie performs and when Alex joined in with the dancing is one example. Pink also represents friendship, unconditional love, understanding and compassion. I think you could easily relate all of these things to Alex but you might have a harder time seeing Carrie that way. However I think from the fact that Julie used to be friends with her and that little clap at the end of Stand Tall she definitely has the capacity to be all of those things. I do think that clap at the end was the beginning of her redemption arc but that its going to take some time for her character to grow and I think Alex is going to play a big part in helping her with her journey.

Dancing is another thing that is similar between them. The both seem to really enjoy that aspect of performing. I do think that this love of dance could be what helps them connect in season 2. Alex is always shown to enjoy Dirty Candy’s performance and has joined in with the dancing both times. But they also seem to be wound tightly and often seen as tense or stressed. I do think that they both use dance as an outlet, its their way to let loose and just be themselves without any cares. I do think this could be something they’ll bond over.

So why is it important that Alex and Carrie make this connection? Well I personally think that out of the three boys Alex is the one that is going to be most willing to forgive Bobby. When they found out that Bobby had stolen their songs both Reggie and Luke had very specific reasons for being angry about it. Luke was angry because if he had been given credit then his parents would have known his dreams were worth chasing. Reggie was angry because if Bobby had given them credit then some of the money would have gone to their families and maybe his family wouldn’t have had their house turned into a bike shed. But Alex never gives a specific reason for being angry therefore I think he’ll be the one most likely to be willing to sit down and chat with Bobby and listen to his side of the story. I think it’ll be through Carrie that Bobby and Alex will reconnect. I spoke in another post (here if you like dot read it) about how alot of the characters have a necklace that they always wear and the symbolism behind those necklaces. Alex always wears a gold chain which as I said in that other post, chains have been a symbol of everlasting love and life since ancient times, its the circle that never ends. Gold is also a symbol of purity, illumination, love, compassion, courage, passion, magic, and wisdom. Again all of these things are very similar to what the colour pink represents. What’s interesting to me is that even though Carrie doesn’t have a necklace that she never ever takes off she does have one that she wears more often than any others and like Alex this is a gold chain or rather two gold chains.

Also if you look at the picture on the right where she has pink hair you can see she is wearing another necklace on top of the two gold chains. Now I’m not an expert on designer jewellery but I know there is a brand that is like known for its panther/ leopard necklaces called cartier. I’m pretty sure that’s what the other necklace is. I do think this is obviously suppose to show Carrie’s wealth, gold is also a symbol of wealth and glamour which is probably why alot of Carrie’s jewellery is gold. But it is interesting that it is a cat necklace, again in that other post I talked about cat imagery in the show and how Flynn is often seen in animal prints and has cat imagery associated with her. Cat’s in alot of cultures are guardians to the underworld and spirits. This necklace isn’t the only instance that we see Carrie with cat imagery in Edge of Great she is wearing a leopard print pale pink outfit.

Although there is nowhere near as much of this cat/ leopard imagery with Carrie as there is Flynn I do still think this represents that Carrie will also like Flynn will be on team phantoms at some point and like Flynn will act in a helper/ protector capacity.

Staying on the subject of cats though there is something else I want to talk about. Like I said I think mending their relationship with Bobby is going to be a big part of completing the phantoms unfinished business. Well I didn’t notice this until @this-is-a-name-dont-worry pointed it out to me but like the rest of the boys Bobby also has a necklace that he wears all the time and whch he was wearing in 1995 and 2020.

I spent ages trying to figure out what the hell his necklace was because in most shots it just looks like a hunk of silver metal. But I finally figured it out and I’m 99% sure that its a lion.

Sorry about the quality of the picture it’s as clear as I could get it. I’ve tried to make the features a little bit clearer by outlining them. The red dots are the eyes, the orange circle is where the nose and open mouth is and then the mane is outlined in brown. Also like Carrie and Flynn he has been seen wearing leopard print. This makes Bobby the third person to be associated with cats of some kind and what is also interesting is that all three characters are lifers. But the Lion holds a even more special symbolism. Most of the characters can be divided into being more connected to Julie/ lifers or to the Phantoms/ afterlife. For example Willie and Caleb are very much connected to the Phantoms and the afterlife. But Flynn and Carrie are much more connected to Julie and life. However you could argue that Bobby is that one character that is very much in both worlds. He is very connected and was a big part of the phantoms lives but he was also quite a big part of Julie’s life and is very much connected to her and the living through Carrie. The interesting thing is that Lions are neither nocturnal (active at night) or diurnal (active during the day) but are sort of inbetween. Night time in many cultures is symbolic of magic and the afterlife, the haunting hour as Caleb put it. Daytime is very much the time of the living so its interesting to me that Bobby has a necklace that is the image of a animal that is part of both worlds just as he is. Also as a slight sidenote I do have a new maybe not theory but headcanon, all four boys from sunset curve each have a necklace that is unique to them and that they never take off, I like to think that they all brought the necklaces together, maybe at a stall or something and that they are a symbol of their friendship kinda like friendship bracelets but as necklaces. Still its really interesting to me that Bobby never took that necklace off. Anyway back on track I think the fact that all three of these characters have associasions with cats makes me think that each of them will be instrumental in helping the phantoms complete their unfinished business, especially as cats are often not just depicted as protectors for spirits in the afterlife but as guides. I think each of them is kind of like a roadmarker on the journey to the phantoms completing their unfinished business.

Ok so going back to Alex and Carrie and why I think Alex will be an important part of Carrie’s character development and redemption arc. In episode 6 there is that truly iconic scene where Dirty Candy is performing and Alex ends up joining them on stage. During the dance Alex passes through Carrie twice. When Ray passed through Reggie, Reggie then formed an attatchment to Ray. The same thing happened between Julie and Luke they formed a deep connection. Obviously I do think that there were other factors than just they passed though them but I do think its significant and its for that reason that I think that Alex and Carrie will form a bond. Also from Reggie’s comment about being able to tell that Ray has a good heart and the looks on Julie and Lukes faces it seems like they can sense the other persons I don’t know personality or maybe even their soul, maybe when passing through for a moment your souls connect who knows. I think Carrie has alot of issues, clearly, but I think underneath all that she is actually more like Alex than we know, a gentle, sweet girl. I think this is something that Alex sensed and that he is going to help her get back to who she used to be and help her reconnect with Julie. I do think Carrie and Julie’s story is the same as Bobby and Luke’s/the Phantoms. I think like Bobby, Carrie has a deep rooted jealousy of Julie. I think that Carrie has a love for music and wants to be successful in the industry and she probably feels a bit like she’s in her father’s shadow and that there’s alot of pressure on her to succeed because of how successful her father is. Although she is good I do think she probably feels like she is constantly outshone by Julie and that Julie’s talent comes really easily to her. Like her father I think she was given an opportunity, I spose you could call it, by death more specifically Julie’s mum’s death. I think with Julie being unable to sing or play music Carrie was suddenly getting alot more attention but like Bobby I think she has alot of conflicted feelings about it because although she is now getting more success she is grieving for someone who has passed. It must be a very conflicting feeling and I think that is why she is so moved in Stand Tall because I do think she had a bond with Rose and just didn’t know how to deal with her dying. Also as another little detail during that scene Carrie isn’t in pink but is wearing a dress that is covered in hearts.

I think this is suppose to symbolise how her heart is opening up. But the really interesting thing is that the hearts are coloured pink, red and blue which are the colours of the boys maybe this is an indication that the boys will be helping open her heart or that she will help open theirs to forgiveness for bobby.

Another sign that Carrie might be getting a redemption arc is that in episode 6 again during that scene where she performs all eyes on me she is wearing a pendant of Saturn.

Saturn is symbolic of transition and transformation. I think the message here is clear that Carrie is going to go through a change. As I said I think Alex will play a big part in that. Part of the reason why I think that is because I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Carrie is wearing the Saturn pendant at the same time that Alex joins in with the dance and passes through Carrie. Also I think its significant that the song that Alex joins in with is All Eyes On Me. Again in that other post I talked about how I actually thought the song was telling the story of what happened between Bobby and the boys. Like I said Carrie and Julie’s situation I think is the same. I think just as Alex was interfering and making the dance better (because you know he made it better as fantastic as it already was) he is going to be ‘interfering’ and making Carrie and Julie’s relationship better and then as a result of that Carrie is going to help heal things with her father.

Ok this one even I will admit is a bit of a stretch but it popped into my head so I figured I’d add in. But in episode 9 when Caleb gives the Phantoms new threads each of them have, well I’m not sure exactly what they are but lets go with brooch. I don’t know if there is any significance to Luke’s and Reggie’s because I haven’t been able to get a clear enough image of them yet but this one is Alex’s.

Alex has a cross and a chain that curves like a crescent. The symbol for saturn is this.

Obviously its not the identical but I can’t help but think they look similar. The other interesting thing is that the Saturn symbol is made up of two components a cross and a scythe. Saturn is symbolic not just of change and transformation but with death, or more specifically death’s scythe. I don’t know I just thought it was interesting and if his brooch is suppose to represent the symbol for Saturn then that means that both Alex and Carrie have worn jewellery associated with Saturn. I do think that both of them will grow and change. I also think it would be really interesting to see these two getting to know each other and them bonding. I’d love to see a dance scene with them both. You know one where Carrie knows he’s there and can interact with him.

So yeah that was my incoherrent ramblings about Alex and Carrie with a side of Bobby. Now all I need is for Netlfix to renew the show for a 2nd season already.

#jatp speculation #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #carrie wilson #jatp

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archetypal-archivist · 3 years

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Hermitcraft-What is Glass but Crystal Light?

There is a woman, sleeping in the heart of an eldritch being beyond mortal ken. There is a man, strapped into a chair, watched over by worried friends as his mind flies across the cosmos- looking for someone. There is a ship that sails the rivers of light that flow through the outer reaches of the void. And long ago, there were two boys who were nearly consumed by a star that should have stayed dead.

This is their story, split into ten parts, each inspired by a song and each part written within the song's duration. May they receive their happy ending yet.

Also known as, I took on a drabble writing challenge and came out with 1500+ words of Sad Grian the Space Sailor content. Links to the songs will be at the bottom.

-----

The boat rocked through the waves, glowing light washing against its hull as nebulas and galaxies spun by. Grian stretched out his hand, letting the solar winds trail over and through his fingers, giving his skin a pale, silver glow. To Mumbo, standing stock still- near invisible in the light of the void, purple and dark and impossible to describe- Grian looked ethereal. Impossible. Like light in the void, like a man made of nothing, stretching out beyond his galaxy to see a glimpse of his lover across the cosmos... Was he talking of himself or of Grian? Best not to think about it. (Best not to think.) He was too boring for the brunet, he knew, but even if his redstone skills lacked the ability to hold his love’s attention, not like the starry seas could, it at least gave him this. Back at home, his body lay strapped into a cold metal chair and electrodes and wires poked harshly against his temples. Iskall watched helplessly as his friend’s eyes flickered behind his closed lids. Alas, if only his friend could see the heart that stood before him, wishing for a spark of that brilliant mind to be turned his way. (Sailor Song by Autoheart)

The seas were cold comfort, although few could tell. Grian knew that better than most. Mumbo was precious, truly, but he was better off without him. The seas had claimed him, marked him when they were younger, back when it was just him and the sea and the drowning feelings inflicted upon them both by a man too much like a black hole to be survived. He and the sea had come out changed, something less than human, in the case of his friend, and a bit less than whole for him. Mumbo really did deserve a whole person, not just a shell of one. But still, even if his heart had been eaten by the void, despite the sea’s best efforts, he could leave Mumbo this- a kiss, pressed to a sleeping temple, a key on the table, and a bottle of dreams. All he had left of his heart, all that he could give. (This is Not Goodbye by Sidewalk Prophets)

Taurtis was not always the sea. He was not always light. But always, as before and as always and as he always will be, he was not enough. Grian blamed him, he knew this too. He had come out of the mess of Sam and his pull just as broken as his best friend, but somehow Grian always spoke as if he had come out the poorer of the two of them. As if losing his physical form and his very name, his very identity, was somehow less of a burden than simply losing a heart. Perhaps that was why Grian was so cruel to him now, insisting that having Taurtis wasn’t enough these days. Perhaps losing a heart really was a burden. But compared to a body, to a soul set loose among the cosmos to join the solar seas and the stardust whipped up by the waves? Having to learn the art of surrender in all its brutal perfection? No, Taurtis had it worse by far. But even if he had lost his body, even if Grian blamed him for not protecting them both, even if he wasn’t enough (had internalized the blame, just a bit). Well. At least they’ll be together forever now. He would learn to be enough, maybe. Given time. Time enough in all the world. (Neptune by Sleeping at Last)

The void was not dark. The void was not silent. Beings roamed its reaches, things of light, borders and physics and string theory made flesh. The voids were treacherous, and those who sailed the cosmic seas knew its dangers well. There were things that lurked in the void’s fractalling, mind-hazing fog, in the light that was anything but. Things that ate men alive, bundled them up in contradictions and questions until their who unraveled from their what, until their atoms pulled apart at the seams. But the most eldritch of things in the void was hope. The most dangerous by far, it’s light cast out across the void, glimmered upon the waves and luring in the foolhardy and the desperate into its reach. And yet, it never struck. Never consumed, not as the other monsters of the void did. It didn’t need to. Any who caught glimpse of its might would throw themselves into its mass whole-heartedly. And yet. And yet. Not all who lost themselves to hope were devoured. Deep in its heart, there sleeps a woman. Her name is Stress, because that is what she is. And the heart of the hope at the center of the void is always breaking, because that woman, that Stress in the fabric of reality? She is trying to break free. And someday, she will succeed. And all will be torn bloody and new again. The seas know it. The absent skies know it. Taurtis knows it, in his piecemeal state. And oh, how hope pulls at him for the knowing. Best to leave his Grian in the dark. { Voidfish (Plural) by Rachel Rose Mitchell}

Vintage Beef knew better than to sell to traders and pirates like the man before him. Anyone who looked like they stepped out of a children’s picture book weren’t likely to be able to pay. Pirates belonged in a by-gone age, even ones that stank of light more than anyone he had ever met. But the man before him, edged in salt-spray golden glow, seemed so lost. So desperate. What was a drink, in the face of that? So he served the man a drink and a side of cow, as a treat to keep the man from hopefully getting too sloshed. No luck. And soon, the story came pouring out, a story of a pair of boys and a man who shone like stars, who blinded them with his light and sucked the life from their bones like marrow. A black hole in all but name. The fork in his hand clicked against the man’s teeth as he choked out the words, hands shaking. A childhood gone wrong. Beef just nodded, wondering, lost in the face of such loss. He could understand that, perhaps. But what was his own lost prospects, lost to his bar and his job, in the face of a lost life? He just hoped the man didn’t end up like all other men in story books. Stories ended. And, as the man stumbled out of the bar, starshine glittering around him like grief, he seemed as if he was rushing into his epilogue. Best wishes, Beef spared him a thought. He would need them. (Golden Leaves by Passenger)

Joe loved the sea, for all that he could not bear to touch it. As an ender hybrid, a bit like that prince in the far tower, its waters would burn him to the quick. And he loved the man he caught glimpses of when he stared out across the waves even more. The man had no name, not that he knew of anyway. Though, it’s not like he could ask, locked in his tower as he was. Part of the job description of a poet, of course. Call it an occupational hazard, just like falling for impossibly distant figures straight out of myth or legend and feeling your consciousness splinter across the cosmos to bring you inspiration in your dreams. (Sleep… hurt. He tried not to think about it.) But yes. The man on the edge of the sea, who rode the waves like he was made to. Perhaps he would write a story about him… (Venus by Sleeping at Last)

Grian knew that things were coming to a head. The sea beneath his boat was insisting that it was not actually the sea. Again. He must be going mad, too, losing his mind just like he lost his heart to that awful void-beast monster from so long ago. But somehow, it felt right, to listen to the sea. To lean over the prow and let his fingers trail through its liquid light waters, let the starshine climb up his veins and ooze through his pores, through his system. It was dangerous, yes, but when he cried tears that glowed like joy, it felt good. Cathartic. Like a piece of his was returning to him. He could never get his heart back, and even if he could, he’d turn right around and hand it to Mumbo. But maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. (It’s Alright by Mother Mother)

Taurtis knew the end was coming. And he was okay with it- longed for it even. He had a heart, unlike his friend. But where he was going, the woman who he had set that feeble organ on, he didn’t need it. Ha. This was why Grian really was stupid, as much as he was his best friend. As if you needed a physical heart to love someone. Deep in the heart of hope lived the most beautiful of women in existence, and she would wake soon. And her emergence would kill him in all the ways that didn’t matter. So in the face of that, why not give his best friend one last gift? A steady trail of heart’s blood was perhaps not quite equal to a heart, but for Grian- so caught up on the physicality of the world, the goof- it would do well enough. And perhaps, with this, he would stop moping. Heroes got their happy endings at the end of time, right? (Never Seen Anything “Quite Like You” by The Script)

Bloody hell. What a way to wake up. Stress stared out across the broken remains of a world blown apart by her emergence. How awful it was that her chance at life was paid at the price of a hundred thousand lives. Tears ran down her face. She did not want this. But soon, a man came to her, or a figment of one perhaps. A breath of comfort on the wind, blacker than pitch, black enough that pulled light from the void itself. It wrapped itself around her, kissing away her tears. Clothing her in mother of pearl- fitting, for she knew she was destined to bear forth a new heart of hope. She did not want this, but the affection was appreciated all the same. It would be the only kind touch she would receive in a while, the work would take up most of her free time for the next millennia at least. The void-black ghost introduced himself as Taurtis, at her service, to help her in her task. It was more freeing than service to his best friend, he explained. A service chosen, not owed or forced or bound. And besides, he whispered shyly. He loved her. And perhaps, as Stress turned her eyes to the newborn universe beyond, she could learn to love him too. (cover of On the Arrow by AFI, sung by Rachell Rose Mitchell)

In the distant black, a goddess bore forth a new universe, her shadow of a lover at her side. In the light of the sea, a ship capsized as the waters underneath shuddered and bucked, for the spirit that ensured the ship’s safety was dead. And the man aboard it did not drown. To his amazement, of course. He really had expected to die. But then, hearts full up of love are perhaps the lightest things around and instead of sinking, Grian floated. And when he saw he could do that, joy filled his heart, buoying him higher, and he swam. He had his true love to return to. And when he returned, soggy and beaming, he saw just what lengths his Mumbo had gone to watch him and he freed him from his prison of redstone and wire to kiss him awake. He laughed, giddy, despite Mumbo’s groggy confusion. They were free! Free of longing, of hoping, of heartlessness and cold metal substitutes for love. They could be together! Mumbo just blinked, once, twice, before breaking out into a bright peal of jingling laughter. They were free! He tried to pick up Grian to swing him into a kiss, but his long vigil in his machine left him loose-limbed and weak. Grian kissed him anyway. (Time to Run by Lord Huron)

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(Sailor Song) (This is Not Goodbye) (Neptune) (Voidfish Plural) (Golden Leaves) (Venus) (It's Alright) (Never Seen Anything "Quite Like You") (On the Arrow) (Time to Run)

#hermitcraft #my writing #minecraft #space #minor hermitshipping #taurtis #grian #stressmonster101 #vintagebeef #joe hills #mumbo jumbo #trigger warning: sam is mentioned #fanfiction

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