#i think we should have cut out the crows (my beloved) so that we could really see ravka's wars. the fold. the grisha system. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bontenten · 3 years

Text

The Choosing

Pairing: Daichi x f!reader (ft. Captain Squad <3 and Sakusa)

WC: 3.2k

Genre/Warnings: Crack/Bad Humor, Smut, Romance, Reverse Harem, Royalty AU!, mention or hints of size kink, exhibitionism, creampie, breeding kink, dick and ball worship, you’re perverted and gross

Summary: You are the Princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym and you need to choose a husband.

Repost from my main because I say so. Lee... :gru: i miss u

Also, no beta we die like Daichi.

It’s a tradition carried through many, many generations that the daughters of nobility from the Kingdom of YoreNaym must choose a suitor from the eligible bachelors from the neighboring kingdoms. It’s a show of kinship to the other kingdoms and also a means of securing peace.

At some point, everyone’s sister’s cousin’s second uncle’s sworn brother’s adopted daughter’s nephew twice-removed will be related and connect back to the Kingdom of YoreNaym. In short, the blood of this kingdom’s daughters unite the lands. No incest, there’s enough genetic diversity, if you will. And because you are also a princess of this kingdom, it’s your turn. Yay.

While growing up, you hear the elders say that the youngsters should be grateful that they have the agency to at least pick a suitor. They spin their looms and cackle, reminiscing that, “Back in our days, we didn’t get to have a choice. Our elders appointed a spouse for us from whichever kingdom had a suitor. Unlike you girls who get to choose, ungrateful wenches…”

Does it really matter? It’s just the false pretense of choice, isn’t it? At the end of the day the selection of eligible bachelors are all chosen ahead of time, deemed worthy, and then after the initial picking, you are just allowed to pick. It doesn’t matter who you choose, any one of them will fit the criteria. Maybe you’ll just close your eyes and pick one randomly. Can you actually say, “I’ll choose my own hand and marry myself.”

That’s pretty brave, hell yea that’s a main character move right there. Speaking of which, who are the eligible bachelors you can choose from today? It’s practically your engagement day, yet you really haven’t been paying any attention at all.

“Hey,” you whisper, lifting the curtain of the palanquin. A maid quickly answers to your beckon.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Who are the candidates today again? You have a...list or brochure of sorts?”

“Just a moment, my lady, I’ll retrieve the scroll for you.”

You open the scroll and peruse the contents. Huh, all the neighboring kingdoms are going all out this year. There’s the Kingdoms of Nekoma, Inarizaki, Fukurodani, Aoba Johsai, Shiratorizawa...Wow, even Johzenji and Nohebi have candidates? Funny, all of these are all presenting their crown princes too. As they should, you are the most beloved princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym, and the suitor you choose will bring you back as a blessing to his kingdom. It’s a total bummer that the Kingdom of Itachiyama isn’t participating this year. Sakusa’s crown prince succession is next year! You have heard so many swoon worthy stories about that princeling, even paid handsome amounts of money for paparazzi paintings of the beautiful man. No one will find out that the princess of YoreNaym actually hoards little pictures of Prince Sakusa in her panties drawers. It’s a shame you aren’t picking your husband next year.

There’s one more Kingdom on the list that surprises you. Kingdom of Karasuno, or more commonly referred to as the Kingdom of “Fallen Crows”. According to legends, they used to be quite a prosperous kingdom, but after a few generations of inept leadership, a drought, and poor trade economy...the Kingdom has mostly faded into obscurity. It’s been years since a suitor candidate has been offered. So who is it?

“Sawamura Daichi,” you whisper to yourself, “Interesting.”

The festival ground outdoors is especially grand. There are a huge number of tables prepared off to the side for guests. Trays of food, fruits and wine are provided for every single guest in attendance. You are led by the attendants to the temporary throne seat as the guest of honor. As you make your way to the throne, all the guests stand up to acknowledge your entrance. It’s so pressuring and a part of you wishes you can just dig a hole and bury yourself on the spot. You don’t even want to think about how many eyes are on you. They are all just jealous because, really. Take my word for it, I’m the narrator.

When you take a seat, the guests reseat themselves. A shaman comes to the center stage and bows to you.

“My lady, the time is auspicious, let us commence the Festival of Unity. At this time, I’ll be introducing the eligible bachelors from neighboring kingdoms near and far. They have passed the arduous tests and come as the best to offer in asking for your hand. Each of the suitors will present to you with a talent or skill, as to show you their excellence. After the demonstrations, you will be allowed to take your pick. Whereupon you will—”

“Okay, I get it! They will participate in a talent show, we clap, and I choose a husband, I got it!” You snap, cutting the shaman’s words off. Your patience is wearing thin.

A number of guests can be heard mumbling in the crowds, probably commenting on your behavior. Your eyes scan the guests, you can care less. Judgmental eyes, scheming eyes, lecherous eyes, disgusting eyes....Your gaze meeting with a pair of eyes that are absolutely blank. Wait, not blank as in emotionless. Non-judgemental? The opposite of unkind? Dare you say, polite? He gives you a smile and returns to taking a sip from his goblet. You scan his clothing up and down to look for his family crest. Black and orange. A crow. Karasuno.

Your thoughts are jumbled as an increasing amount of questions fill your mind. He? Karasuno? That Kingdom of Fallen Crows? You barely hear the shaman announce the first candidate.

“Bokuto Koutarou from Kingdom of Fukurodani.” Bokuto is a very large, very well built man. He is wearing his family crest of an owl across his back proudly. You can tell his chest is incredibly broad, the bulge of his big tiddies stretch the tight shirt he’s in. If you squint hard enough, you can maybe see the outline of his nipples through the training shirt, but maybe that’s just your perverted imagination too. Bokuto comes to the center stage and greets you.

“Hey! I’ll uh, demonstrate my strength to you, my lady.” He easily picks up a huge hunk of metal and lifts it with ease above his head. Damn beefiness, those arms of his. Seeing the bulges flex when he flexes has you dreaming of mouth along that delicious flesh. And when he pins you down under his massive body? Ooh, if this is the first demonstration, you’re excited to see the whole lineup today. Gasps and murmurs can be heard in the crowd. Bokuto grins and drops the load on the ground. You can almost feel the tremors beneath your feet. Truly, a herculean feat.

“Thank you, Bokuto, I have seen your demonstration and all those here are witnesses.”

Bokuto’s demonstration is a showy start of the competition for your hand. The shaman announces the next candidate. “Ushijima Wakatoshi from the Kingdom of Shiratorizawa.”

Ushijima walks up to the stage exuding the regal aura of nobility; a byproduct of his strict upbringing. The twin crests of an eagle decorate his shoulder pads. His expression is quite cold, but there’s a saying, “it’s always the quiet ones.” You lick your lips and study him some more.

“Greeting to the princess,” he says with a deep bow. “I also bring a demonstration of my martial prowess.” Ushijima takes off the bow and quiver of arrows from his back and nods at his attendant who then catapults three apples high up into the air. Everyone’s eyes follow the trajectory of the objects, squinting to see what’s happening. No way.

Ushijima draws the bow back and calmly shoots one arrow, perfectly spearing the three fruits along the shaft. The crowd bursts into cheers. You also find your tight grip on armrest loosening, the tension from the scene dissipating in a moment. Ushijima’s calmness, accuracy, decision-making...he would make a very suitable partner for sure. Co-workers of sorts, that is.

You know your marriage carries a lot of weight politically and the fate of the whole universe will rest on your decision. Maybe not the whole universe, but close enough. But, marital bliss is important too right? Is Ushijima the right choice? There are still many more candidates, it’ll be best not to make a rash decision. Your gaze wanders over back to the Karasuno prince who is clapping earnestly for Ushijima’s performance. He’s acknowledging a rival’s strength, you think to yourself. Well, that’s certainly a rare but admirable trait. A confident man, he is.

After Ushijima’s demonstration, Oikawa Tooru’s enchanting musical performance offers a much desired change of pace. The rhythm and melody from his zither carries both the energy of fortitude as well as a graceful spirit. Quite stunning, but just not quite the musical vibe you’re feeling at the moment. Bummer, maybe a different day, really. Could be friends?

Kuroo Tetsurou from the Kingdom of Nekoma offers a particularly memorable performance too. Kuroo comes to the center stage with a trough filled with flames. Everyone is at a loss as to what is going on. Kuroo flashes you a grin before taking out a few pouches containing some powders. In a poof, the flames burst alive with colors blending blues and purples. And moments later yellows and greens, even reds. No one has ever seen fire change color like so.

“Witchcraft!” someone gasps.

“No it must be alchemy. Dangerous craft,” another adds.

Kuroo bows to you. “My lady, this is called chemistry, a discipline of science.”

Kuroo’s smiles teeter on the edge of flirtations and you cannot deny that your heart flutters just slightly when you see his crooked grin. He’s intelligent, humorous, and attractive. Definitely also a contender. A union with him might be fun. And especially when you see Kuroo run a hand through his messy, black locks and give you a piercing gaze, you almost wonder if this is the feeling of chemistry. It feels like you are naked under his seductive, golden eyes, completely submitted to his will and absolutely drugged. And you fear that if he sends you another one of his grins, you’ll come untouched. Dangerous, send him off immediately.

“Thank you, Kuroo, I have seen your demonstration and all those here are witnesses.”

After Kuroo, many more candidates also come to the center stage for their demonstrations. Kita Shinsuke from the Kingdom of Inarizaki composes and recites poetry on the spot. His literary talents and mastery of public speech move a very large crowd of the literati officials. Kita is a charismatic leader and commands confidence. But he doesn’t seem to be the best fit. Your brain says ‘yes’, but your coochie just isn’t feeling it. The nerve signals say no.

Terushima Yuuji demonstrates a one-man comedy show, but his storytelling skills, although humorous, fall just a little short after Kita’s. Had Terushima been slotted for a different position, perhaps he would make a stronger impact.

Daishou Suguru. Interesting. But tongue itself will eventually get boring too.

A few more candidates demonstrate their talents to you. Most of them fail to impress you at all. Your blank expression is more than enough to make a few almost shit their pants or cry on the way they exit the stage. It’s really not their fault, you’re just a bit tired after seeing so many performances and demonstrations. You are just trying to find the best fit after all. It’s your duty and responsibility as the muthereffing princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym.

“Sawamura Daichi from the Kingdom of Karasuno.”

The crowd is silent as Daichi stands up from his seat and makes his way to the center. His shoulder is relaxed and his head is held high. He doesn’t have the large build of Bokuto nor is he decked out in regal fabrics like Ushijima. His hair is simple and clean. His expression is polite and pleasant. Amongst the sea of beautiful and talented men, Daichi is like an ordinary seashell buried in the sand. But like how too many bites of dessert beckon the simplicity of water, Daichi’s humble presence makes him stand out in particular.

Daichi bows deeply. “I send my deepest regards to the princess. I am Sawamura Daichi from the Kingdom of Karasuno.”

“Please rise, Sawamura. What demonstration do you bring to me today?”

“My lady, I have nothing showy in particular. I only bring myself. And please feel free to call me Daichi.” You can feel his piercing gaze on you, confident and assertive. So he has some guts. It beckons you to submit, but you bite back. Grrrrr.

“Just yourself? That’s quite cocky of you Daichi. Others bring talents and demonstrations of qualities that make them fit as my suitor. What do you have to offer for me to choose you? Or is that something you are not looking for at all?”

“Karasuno,” Daichi begins, “Karasuno is a good kingdom. For many years long ago, our people have suffered greatly and we have gained a poor moniker. However, for the last few years, the kingdom has made significant progress and improvements. Alongside my brethren and officers of my court,” Daichi gestures to his entourage sitting off to the side, “We have come a long way. ”

“You tell me much about your home, Daichi, but what about you?”

Daichi pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. He is well aware of the pressures you are putting on him, testing his convictions to the limit. You are a princess after all, so it’s only natural that you test his qualifications. Diachi swallows his nerves and faces your confrontation head on.

“I come to tell you the truth, my lady. I cannot hide these facts about myself or my kingdom. I am truthful, honest, but I have an unshaken belief that my kingdom will prosper because I have my closest and trusted with me. Each of them have their talents and strengths. Karasuno is a band with a bit of everything, and we’re family.”

You inwardly sigh. It seems like Daichi won’t be completely living up your hopes. At first you thought that his confident yet humble demeanor must hide something. Something incredible, because he can sit back and freely applaud other men for their talents. Something remarkable because he doesn’t feel the need to jump out in front of others. Something big. Very big.

“I don’t doubt your family’s bond or strength, but I am here to choose a suitor, a husband in layman's terms. So, I suppose that—”

“Wait,” Daichi cries out, and gestures towards his Karasuno brethren.

A tangerine head jumps up and brings out a scroll. He skips a few steps towards you and passes the document over to the shaman who brings it to you.

“My resume, if you will, my lady. I have no other talents but what is shown there.”

You glance at Daichi, studying him closely. From his clenched fist, you can tell that even in this moment, he’s a bit shaken and nervous. You undo the ties on the scroll and unravel the contents.

All eyes are fixed on you, trying to decipher every microexpression you make. The slight widened eyes, the twitch of the brow. The slight part of the lips and the deep breathes from you trying to calm the invisible fire that’s building in your core. It’s big. If the resume is accurate, Daichi’s demeanor truly is hiding a beast. A massive, humongous, schlong. Finer than any specimen you have seen in banned pictorial books you read and hide under your massive princess bed.

The sheer size and girth of the XL 2d image is rendered in X-TRA fine detail. You brush a finger onto the parchment, tracing the lines depicting the veins running along the shaft. You gulp, rubbing your finger down what is drawn as a big, swollen tip that’s glistening. Artists these days are so detail-oriented, it looks as if precum is just dripping from the tip and shimmering. So realistic, you just want to take it all into your mouth. To gag or to choke. Neither are a question.

The balls, those massive balls that are the storehouses for an endless supply of fresh cum. Organics from the finest the kingdom has to offer. Precious jewels hanging at the base, ripe for your licking. It looks so juicy and plump and you want nothing more than to rub your cheeks, cooing at how cute they are.

You know it’s good. It better be good if the painting is depicting something this sumptuous. If this is the real deal, then you really have nailed the jackpot and secured a brilliant future for yourself. Marital bliss. Bedroom adventures. Bedroom adventures where he’ll fulfill every nightmarish fantasy you ever have. It’ll be hard at first, your cunt’s so tight and he’s so big! But it’s okay, you’ll take him like the royal princess you are because the Kingdom of YoreNaym raises whores and sluts only!

No scratch that. Coital activities can take place anywhere. Maybe you’ll cockwarm him while the two of you hear what the morning court has to say about the affairs of the kingdom. Maybe you’ll find yourself tumbling around in the garden after a cute game of hide and seek, skirt hiked up, as he fucks a grass stain into your back! Okay. That might not be the best idea. Perhaps just once. For novelty’s sake.

But hear me out, when you are sneaking into the kitchen for some snacks, he’ll pin you on the large baker’s table and just take you right there to fuck his babies into your womb. His cock pumping into you as the table creaks and shakes from his thunderous movements. He’ll fill you to the brim with copious amounts of his hot cum, heaps and heaps of them, just like the baker fills the buns with cream custard in the most obscene fashion ever. Watch your belly rise and bulge up like pastries in the oven. Oooh cummies.

You sigh and squirm in the seats as you continue examining the masterpiece of a dick. You feel your heartbeat racing wildly as if you are caught tinkling in the castle fountain. It’s unknown if you ever did that, by the way. Just saying, your memory is failing you just a tad. But oh gosh, you’re wet already. The slick pooling between your folds is just soaking through your princess panties; the ones in the drawer where you keep all your secret prince Sakusa drawings heehee. But Sakusa’s pretty face aside, you are now face to face with the most magnificent dick pic you’ll ever receive. Not really unsolicited, but damn work of art. Literally.

The crowd is silent when you clear your throat and roll up the scroll, taking extra care to not let anyone else touch your new precious treasure. You lean forward and perceive Daichi. Daichi gives you a cocky grin, showing his teeth. Slightly stained with the wine, but it’s just temporary. It doesn’t matter as long as the real deal is...well, real.

Daichi catches your eyes wandering to the outline of the bulge between his legs. The glorious dickprint that he’s casually showing to everyone present. It puts Herculean Bokuto to shame, Ushijima into a blushing mess. Kuroo nearly snorts his colored powders. Daishou’s tongue hangs out and dries. Oikawa is sent to the medics. Kita no longer waxes poetry about the weather. Terushima leaves the party early.

Daichi is smug and casually asks, “My lady, would you like to examine the goods? I am a pure man and would not carelessly offer tastes to anyone. But you are a princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym. You can have a sampling before you commit. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #daichi smut #daichi x reader smut #daichi x reader #did y'all see kazooli's post on fetishizing fictional men and their fictional dicks and balls?#this is my answer #forever a princess of yorenaym #you can be too if you want #emi.freshtea #ch daichi #🍵.daichi

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another-fantasy-world · 3 years

Text

5:1 with Natasha Romanoff

GIF isn’t mine

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Title: The 5 Times Natasha Held Her Tears Back, And The One Time She Couldn't

Pairings: (Romantic) Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Just pure angst. Maybe a sprinkle of Fluff. Major Character Death

Reader Pronouns: She/They, (I don't even think I put the reader's pronouns in, but it's what I was thinking of.)

Word Count: 5065 words

Author's note: I was feeling angsty these past few weeks so why not? I think this is all the angst I have stored in my body for this month. I'll go back to writing fluff now. I sincerely apologize for this.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You hated this.

Of course you did. SHIELD managed to destroy what you considered a home. It wasn't the best, they made you fight each other, they made you sit in a chair, electrocuting you or injecting you with weird chemicals. But you were their best, the best in that institute, and now you would have to fight for the top spot again.

“You. You're facing our newbie. We need to test her strength.” This too old to be alive, bulky man pointed at a brunette girl, who was now shaking.

“Let's see if you are what they made you out to be.” Madame B uttered as the guy pushed you to the center.

“Begin.” She said, her eyes focused on your movement.

You begin by circling the brunette, sizing her up. The perks of the power you were born with is that you can easily see their weak spots, parts that would make them cry out for mercy that you'll never give.

She begins the fight with a fatal mistake, running at you with her fist almost hitting your face, you caught the fist and twisted it just enough for her wrist to be broken. She didn't scream, which was disappointing.

You decided to do the next move, still holding her broken wrist, you held her elbow and flipped her onto her back, knocking the air out of her.

“Stand up.” You glared at the brunette, pissed that she was knocked down way too easily.

And she stands up, hiding her broken wrist behind her back as she fought with her legs and feet instead. Blocking a high kick, you held her right foot and slammed your elbow to her knee as hard as you can, making her leg bend in an unnatural way, this time making her scream in pain as she fell down to the ground.

“Eliminate the weak.” Madame B's voice echoed in the room

“Understood.” You replied, kicking the brunette so her face is on the ground. No matter how hard they train and brainwash you, you refused to see the face of your victims as they died, so you always turn their head the opposite way. She cries and begs for mercy, and you smirk at her pathetic attempts of surviving. Should've fought better then.

Producing a dagger from your thigh, you straddled her hips and plunged the dagger deep into where you know her heart is, making blood pool around her.

“Hmm.” Madame B hummed, her body language shows her positivity.

“Fine. We'll take her in.” Madame B said to your previous handler

You stand there, bored out of your brain as people clean the mess you made.

“Natalia.” The name Madame B mumbled brought you back to reality as a gorgeous redhead made her way to you.

“She's going to be the one you'll see frequently. Both of you are going on missions, so get along girls. I can't have our greatest assets kill each other.”

“Natalia.”

“Y/N” you accepted her handshake, her tight grip on your hand as she pulls you close.

“You'll regret killing her.” her voice faltered, giving away that she's close to sobbing her little heart out.

“The weak has no place in this world. It's kill or be killed, Natalia.” You bit back, your grip also tightening

As your handler led you away to a cell specifically made for you, You could swear you heard Natalia say something.

You turned back to see Natasha's beautiful green eyes lined with tears she desperately pulled back.

“Remember me.” She mouthed, tilting her head up to prevent the tears from falling.

It was the first time you saw Natalia hold her tears back

II.

You don't know how to feel.

Natalia escaped the Red room. You were extremely proud of her for escaping this hell. But you were pissed that she didn't even try to inform you of it.

You had been in a mission, an attempt for you to forget about the bond you and Natalia had, It didn't work, because the second you landed, you teleported to her room. A new power that you obtained from them, only to find her bed occupied with another. You grit your teeth and opted to kill this girl that's laying on your beloved's bed.

“Silence. Don't waste your time. She is not here, and killing that girl will not erase that feeling in your heart. We have another mission, let all your frustration out on that.” Your new handler said. This handler was much more gentler than the last one you killed, and you refrained from killing her because of that. She had become a mother of sorts.

“Another mission? I just got back.” You shook your head.

“You need to. I think you'll be interested in this one. Budapest” She hands you a file.

…and Natalia's face was plastered on the file.

“What is this?” You grit out

“Natalia joined SHIELD.”

The anger you felt was what led to where you are now.

“Y/N! Stop! Listen to me!” She grunts as you both land blow, after blow. You, letting all your frustrations out with your body, and her defending herself

“Why should I? You left me. YOU BETRAYED ME!” You say, your thoughts clouded

“They're using you! Fuck. They only see you as an asset for fucks sake!” She winces in pain as your dagger nicks her face, blood dripping from the wound on her face

“I know. So come and save me.” You mumbled when you had her in your arms, a dagger on her throat, threatening to slice it open.

“...I can't” She says, holding back her tears, her hands trying to find your other hand, trying to find comfort in this sick reality

“Then so be it.” You say with finality, hearing your handler say that the mission was complete, and you fulfilled your role of being the distraction.

You drop Natalia, her hand on her throat, trying to stop the bleeding. You both know it wasn't lethal, but it was still bleeding a lot.

“Be careful Natalia.” You whispered, before turning away from her, refusing to see her teary eyes. The sharpshooter was by her side in an instant, making you wish that it was you comforting her, not this man named after a bird.

Natalia can't help but stare at your retreating figure, guilt, regret, anger and sadness weighing her down. 8 years of training with each other, 8 years of flirty missions that would get you both punished, and 8 years of friendship, thrown down the drain, all because she refused to fight for you, all because she was following the rules set for her. It was then she realized, SHIELD isn't that much different from the red room and HYDRA.

Natasha held her tears back once again.

III.

You felt excited for once.

After years of boring, too easy missions that were given to you, you were finally qualified enough for a mission with the Avengers, as if mass murdering people and assassinating people weren't enough qualification. HYDRA suspects that the Avengers will interfere with this specific mission, so they sent you to be a guard of some sort. You complained at first, wanting to move around and not be a body guard, but now you were relieved that your handler persisted you take this role.

“Come here often?” The green-eyed woman says, ordering herself a cocktail.

“No. Not at all. My sister was invited to this whole thing, and I just tagged along. Her personal bodyguard if you will.” You say, facing her and sipping your drink

“Natasha.” She chuckles, extending her hand

“Y/N” You chuckle back, she changed her name again.

“You never changed your name?” She asked, scooting closer to you, sipping on her orange-colored cocktail.

“It's part of my charm, why change it?” You smirked

“What are you doing here, Silence.” She says, her playful attitude disappearing, a frown now placed on her pretty face.

“Ouch, Natalia. Busting out the professional nicknames, that's painful. And giving up on that flirty tactic already? My, my. You must be getting rusty then.” You say, clutching your heart in faux pain

“I don't have time to waste, Y/LN. What. Does. HYDRA. Want. From. Samantha. Durkink?” You chuckled at her attempt of fishing out info

“Why don't you ask Samantha herself?” You say, lifting your glass to the target's general direction.

Natasha's eyes followed the direction you pointed, and there she was, the target, dressed in a dark violet medieval era-like gown, her eyes then roamed around to the delicately decorated ballroom, fit for a royal ball.

You watch her as she tried to get through the crowed that was dancing, laughing lightly when you see her struggling. You then laughed once again when a man mistook her for a dancing partner and instantly pulled her to dance, the crowd was dancing together, all in sync, which amazed you.

After a few minutes, you decide to take Natasha out of her misery.

“May I cut in?” You ask the man who was dressed like that one prince from that movie, Ice or something. You only saw it when you babysat Red room candidates.

He nodded and you slipped Natasha into your arms, your hands on her waist and palm, while her hands were on your shoulder and palm. The two of you waltz quietly for a few minutes, before you leaned into her ear, the one you knew had her comms.

“You have approximately 7 minutes to leave the building with your team. I personally dislike what they are about to do, but HYDRA has found a rather unorthodox way of burning evidence. And as much as I don't like it. It's a way easier way of...burning the evidence away with a bang. You understand right?” You pat her head, looking into her eyes fondly, letting your guard slip for just a second.

“I'm proud of you.”

And that was all Natasha could hear for the past hour. Even as she stared at the now burning mansion, the screams of people that were trapped in that building resonating in the air. Even as she was being suffocated by her team's emotions because the mission failed. All she can hear and see is you. Your eyes burning with passion she had never seen before, not even in missions, you always had an emotionless look on your face, much like hers. And yet, there you were, under the chandelier, looking at her like you care for her, looking at her like she's your world, looking at as if you...love her.

And that was what led Natasha to hold her tears back, even if she was in the privacy of her own room, her eyes on the small rectangular box you gave her.

She refused to believe that you love her. No. Love is for children. Love isn't meant for her. Love isn't meant for you. Love. No. She doesn't deserve love. Especially not from you.

She held her tears back harder when she realized. When all the “unexplained circumstances” happened, she never found who caused it. And now she knew. Now she realized.

You never stopped caring for her after all these years.

IV.

You care for her

After months of beating yourself up, you finally accepted it. You care for this reckless, red-haired assassin, who always seem like she never gets her life together. This green-eyed goddess who can never catch a break. This assassin who betrayed you. This woman who babysits Gods. This woman, who's sleeping beside you, her face oddly peaceful and calm, a complete opposite for what you were feeling.

“Idiot. Spending time with other idiots has made her an idiot herself.” You mumbled, flipping a page of this random fantasy story that's been translated to Russian.

“Hmmn. You were talking shit there Y/LN?” She stirred

“I was. You slept for 2 days Nat.” You say with no emotion in your voice.

“So mean.” She says, reaching around you, pulling you close and buried her head on your stomach. You were taken aback. She was never like this...unless

“What happened yesterday Nat? You know how forgetful I get.” You smiled at her sweetly

“Well, we were on a mission in Indonesia, and you killed your handler to give me ice cream.” She smiled

…ah- her brain must've reset itself when she almost drowned

“...I'm sorry Nat.” You say, a frown on your face.

“When did you start calling me Nat?” She asks, to which you just smirked

“Free, Proven, Easy, Loyal, Secret, Care, Loyal, Love.” You spoke in Russian, and Natasha's eyes turned blank, before they turned into panic

“Y/N? Oh my god.”

“...You have become annoyingly American.” You scoffed, annoyed that her first words after being brought back to reality are that of a Typical American

“Well, I at least needed to pass as American born or else I would've been deported you ass!” She goes to punch your face, but you blocked it with your book.

“Not the face Natalia.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes when she winced in pain

“Don't force your body. You have a flesh wound from the bullet that grazed you.” You say, placing your book on the nightstand and guide her to lay down.

“You promised not to use those words unless needed, Atrax.” She grunts, a cold hard glare directed to you.

“And I knew you wouldn't like living in a false reality, Widow.” You thumped her head with your palm.

“...That reality is a dream we once knew.” She mumbles, tears threatening to fall

You hold her face, wiping the tears before they fall. You knew her as much as she knows you. She hates showing weakness, She hates crying, So you vowed to never let her cry in front of you again.

“It's a dream that I can make a reality.” You nodded

“what?” She asks after a while, surprised

“If I could escape this hell, I would. And I'll bring you along with me, even if I have to tie a rope on your waist. We'll travel to a peaceful land far away and build ourselves a beautiful house with a backyard. Maybe a kid or two. But no more than that. 2 dogs, 2 cats, 3 spiders and 1 snake” You quoted yourself from 10 years ago, making her chuckle, but abruptly stops

“We were young.” She says, frowning

“And?”

“We were foolish Y/N. We were kids!” She shouts in your face

“...ah. I understand. You think that I break my promises? Well newsflash widow. I didn't break a single promise I made!” A look of anger in your face, you drag Natasha by her uninjured arm and pulled her right in front of the bathroom mirror.

“Look at me. Look at you. I promised you that someday you'll look at ballet as a form of comfort and not remind you of the pain it caused, You dance whenever you feel the need to cry! I promised you that you'll get out of that damn red room with or without me, And look what happened! Granted that I wasn't the one to get you out, I made sure you never returned. I promised that someday we'll look into each other's eyes without a dagger on each other's throat...” You trailed off, her green eyes tearing up again.

“I promised that I'll never let you cry in front of me. And I intend to fulfill that.” You say, wiping the tears before they fell once again

“It's not crying if tears don't fall.” You quote her from 12 years ago

And at that moment, Natasha let herself indulge in this sinful dream of hers. Her lips touched yours as moonlight made her bare skin glow, her taking what's rightfully hers, sitting on her own throne. The sweat trailing down her skin as quiet music erupt from both of you. You never wanted this moment to end, but alas the sun rose, and it was time to face reality once again.

“I can't...” She says the moment the sun shone through the curtains.

“I understand.” You say, standing up to get yourself dressed

“I'll leave you with a choice then. If you change your mind.” You softly say to her, left hand clutching the bag that you need and the other holding her face softly.

“See you in a minute.”

Natasha once again held her tears back, her hands trembling as it held the two envelopes that seem so heavy. One containing fresh, new, fake identity and a plane ticket to God knows where. And the other held a car key, a house key and some money to aid her travel back to the compound. Well the choice is heavy. To leave the Avengers behind, and rekindle a lost flame in a faraway land, or to stay, and continue to fight and to protect.

In the end, Natasha chose them.

You felt at peace.

A couple months at a quiet town did wonders to your mental health. You were now playing piano in an old studio made to teach young students ballet. It was now abandoned, but you bought it, just for the nostalgia

“I knew I'd find you here.” You hear her voice echoing, You stopped playing Swan Lake, OP.20, Act II for a second

“Hmmhmmn. You've always been the better spy out of both of us.” You say, switching your piece to The Nutcracker: Dance of Sugar-Plum Fairy

“Ah. My outfit isn't fit for ballet” She says

“That never stopped you before, Widow.” You chuckled, smiling wider when she started to dance to the rhythm you set.

“Why didn't you stay there?” She asked while floating around the room, your piece now switched to The Sleeping Beauty, Ballet Suite, Op.66a: V. Valse.

“Not my scene, as I hate to admit. I missed the chaos. But I miss the silence too. It's a tough choice.”

“Trust me. I know.” She scoffs, then her eye widens at how insensitive that sounded

“Heh. Of course.”

“Switch to Giselle, will you?” She asks, her toes supported her weight even though she's not wearing pointe shoes

“Bossy.” You mumbled, but complying anyways

And there you both reveled in the bond you both had. Both expressing your feelings in the way that you knew the most. Music and Ballet. Your feelings of Regret, merging with Natasha's, Your feelings of Shame, battled Natasha's sadness, Your pride shoved down your throat as Natasha also shoved hers. As the melody you played turned into a much softer tune, Natasha's love vibrated through the air, as did yours, The feelings you held back came crashing down as you too try to hold back your tears.

There was no need to explain to each other. You both knew. Well, you sure hope she knew what you think. After all, you left her a letter in each envelope. And while she never sent a letter back, she had the habit of hacking into your morning radio and deliver small messages through Morse code, leaving you to figure out her puzzle of a message.

“You're happy. I like that.” You say, abandoning your piano to approach her

“I'm happy because of them.” She says, her green eyes staring back at yours

“Good. I'm glad. You seem different now.” Your eyes filled with tears, turning your back to her as you wiped the tears from your eyes

“Dance with me?” You take the hand on your shoulder, and let her guide you in dancing. Waltz has always been your favorite.

“I felt like we've done this before.” She says, her head dropping on your shoulders

“Perhaps in another life.” You concluded, spinning her

As you continue dancing to the silent music, you can't help but think how much you loved this woman. And that you could never handle the pain of letting her go again.

You also knew what this felt like. Farewell. Last Dance. You held her closer.

Natasha was saying farewell.

But you can't let her go. Not now. Not when you just accepted that you do love her, you're in love with this divine being, you're in love with Natasha Romanoff.

Even when no one taught you how to love, even when you knew love is for children, even when you know she's too good for you, even when she's an entirely different person when she's with you, her gentle gazes drown you, even when you know you're not worth of even touching her. You still accepted that you are in love. You are in love with Natalia Alianovna Romanoff.

And you know she feels the same. So why?

Why?

Why was she walking away now?

Why?

Why are you letting her get away?

Why?

Why did you let her break your peace?

Why?

Why did you let her break you?

“Take care of yourself.”

Four words and the sight of her back getting farther and farther away is enough to completely shatter your already broken heart.

Madame B was right. Love is for children.

Natasha didn't need to look back.

She couldn't

Not when your sobs ring throughout the whole studio

Natasha once again held back her tears.

Natasha once again held back the words.

Natasha once again held back her feelings.

Natasha once again held back her tears.

She can never get you back now can she?

Natasha held her tears back.

Pain. Dark. Cold.

That was all you felt right now.

Hours ago, you fulfilled another promise you made when Natasha left you. To make her feel pain. To make her feel the pain she caused you. You fought the Avengers one by one. Catching them off guard and capturing them. Creating cells for them and them only.

You created an elaborate trap for all of them.

You wanted all of them to feel your pain.

You wanted them to know the feeling.

The feeling. The feeling of pain you felt every time Natasha chose them over you.

The feeling of pain when they stole Natasha over and over again.

But you knew you were only making excuses for yourself.

Who could blame you?

Well, all of them apparently.

And then you saw how Natasha fought for them. Screaming for you to let them go. Her resolve never faltering as she fought, taking the floors of the building by storm. Reaching each area where you keep each Avenger captive.

It was then you knew.

They were the villains in your story. Always in the way of you getting your princess back.

Oh how blind and foolish you were.

You were always the villain in their story. The ex-hydra agent who killed more than The Winter Soldier and Black Widow combined. You were the evil sorcerer.

And them? They were the royal knights protecting the Queen.

You scoffed at yourself. Of course you would make a grave mistake. You let yourself drown in the emotions you weren't supposed to have anyways.

“That heart is what'll get you killed. Mark my words, Silence.” Madame B's last words before you killed her.

You deactivated the whole building before leaving a note for Natalia.

You teleported to the rooftop, letting the air kiss your skin. You let yourself enjoy.

Because for once in your life, you don't know what happens next.

“... Atrax.”

“Widow.”

“How could you?”

“...A circle has no beginning nor end. What happens in the beginning shall happen again in the end to fulfill the cycle.” You say, drawing your dagger and turning to face her in all her glory.

The Sun's rays gently touches her skin, leaving her glowing slightly. This. This is one of the many memories you wish to remember when you get reincarnated once again.

She pulls out a familiar dagger. The one you gave her before you blew up that one mansion.

“Are we really going to end this way?” She says, anger and pain shone in her eyes as her face mimicked an emotionless stare.

“It would seem so.”

And so the clashing of blades began. Punch after punch. Kick after kick. Takedowns after takedowns. You don't want to lose. And neither does she.

You both then engaged into what you can call, the dance of death. With the clashing daggers as the music and combat as your choreography.

And then Natasha changed the rhythm. Using her dagger to slice your cheek, just as you did her in Budapest. But that also caused her to open a weak spot of hers.

Ignoring the pain, you decide to change the rhythm as well. Moving like a snake, tangling your feet to hers, making her fall down. You then slammed your boot on her chest, slowly putting pressure, slowly smashing her ribs, making her clutch your ankle, trying to gasp for air.

“Any last words Nat- Black Widow?” You ask, pointing the dagger right above her heart.

“...I love you.” Natasha finally let the three words out of her mouth, regretting not saying it earlier.

You tensed up, your shoulders tensing. Anger flared in your eyes.

Why now?

Why?

Is this fake?

Is she lying?

Why?

“Why now?” You whispered, not even bothering to hold back your tears.

You're tired.

Too tired.

“I always did. I just- Ugh. I just never had the courage to tell you.” She grunts out, trying to push your foot away, but you ended up digging it into her deeper.

“...Liar.” You gritted out, swiftly plunging the knife deep in her heart, enjoying the feel of her blood slowly emerging from her heart, the sight of the life in her eyes slowly fade.

You broke your ritual. You didn't turn her back to you. You saw her face.

…

Why?

Because you didn't kill her.

Natasha thought she was dead. In fact, she felt your dagger dig into her skin.

So why?

Why does she feel your hand in hers.

Right...

You have powers.

…

You have powers.

She instantly opened her eyes, her brain catching up.

“NO! What have you done! You stupid! Reckless! Piece of Shit!” She says, she slaps your face as she sees your eyes closing.

Pain Transfer.

You transferred her pain to your body. You transferred her lethal wound into yours. You sacrificed yourself to save her from the death that you, yourself, caused

You basically killed yourself.

“Forgive me, Natalia. I broke our promise.” You pulled her bloody hand from your chest and held it tightly in your hand.

“You promised to stay alive as long as I am. You never break your promises.” Natasha held her tears back, crying will make it real.

Your death isn't real. No. But loving you is.

She never got the chance to show you how much she loves you.

“This is our reality Nat. I was foolish to think I could ever change it...” You trailed off, coughing out blood. This was the first time you thanked your powers for moving so slow. You have more time. With her. And that's all you could ever ask for,

“...Stop crying Natalia. Heroes always win remember? Besides, I knew you'd let yourself die before you ever think of killing me, so I did it myself.” You grinned at her as best as you can.

“Idiot.” She whispered

“I love you too you know? Please remember that I love you. They love you too. But I love you the most.” You whispered back, the moonlight shining on your bare skin.

Natasha always go back to that night you shared whenever she sees the moonlight, but now, it's corrupted by the feeling of your grip slowly loosening, until it's only her that's holding on.

It was you who always held on.

You held on to the bond no matter how many times you got hurt because of it.

You held on to the hope that someday, you'll get to call her yours, and she gets to call you hers.

You held on, even as she repeatedly let you go.

And she can't help but regret that. She regrets it so much more now.

Now, she's the only one left.

There was nothing more to hold on to.

Nothing but the promise of living a life without you by her side.

Nothing but the memory of your smile.

The memory of you scolding her every time she got hurt.

Memories of you laughing

Memories of you dancing. Dancing with her.

She doesn't know how to say bye to you.

She doesn't know how to let you go now.

It seems like, she's done it so much that she forgot how to do so now.

She remembers every single promise you made. And the one promise you broke.

She can only hope that you can forgive her.

She's going to make you break your own promise.

But it's void now right?

You're gone.

She can cry now right?

She can cry as she reads the last letter you left?

She can cry as she reads the journal where you put all your memories in, because you're afraid of forgetting her, right?

She can cry as she opens the velvet box right?

She can cry as she puts the ring you left her as her necklace right?

She can cry as she reads that all your properties are now hers, right?

She can cry now.

She can let go of her feelings now.

But she can never let you go.

And then, for once Natasha used FRIDAY's soundproof function.

For once. Natasha let her emotions run rampant.

For once, she cried. She sobbed. She screamed. As if it'd make you come back.

If you were foolish enough to think that you can change reality, Then Natasha was foolish enough to hope you come back.

Natasha couldn't hold her tears back anymore.

Taglist: @jj-arms @satxnsupreme

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow angst #natasha romanoff angst

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space-city-traffic · 3 years

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yet again im back on my bullshit so... (gazes with mixed feelings at the TV show Firefly) i could fix him.

my extremely long thoughts about my Own Personal Good Version of Firefly (with plenty of spoilers for the show and the movie) under the cut:

things that are getting axed first thing no question:

out with the whole “let’s add in a thin veneer of Chinese cultural aesthetics out of context for ~flavor~” deal. just no.

instead, let’s hire some actors from a bunch of different cultures and work with them to figure out how their characters would bring those cultures into space with them!! and also hopefully bring some experiences with immigration/alienation/travel into it, since the Whole Core of Firefly is about how humanity always brings our doomed and silly and stubborn and unique warmth with us even into the cold void where nothing is familiar or homey in the slightest.

let’s respect our sex worker character shall we?

i do appreciate that Inara’s work as a companion is described as legitimate and well respected in the show. however please stop having your captain and hero call her a wh*re every five seconds against her clearly expressed wishes and portraying this as just a totally acceptable thing

let’s be more respectful of our characters of color and also have some more diversity, shall we?

others have put it better than me but yeah, the way Zoe and Book are treated is very uncomfy, and the rest of the show is depressingly monochromatic. come on let’s do better.

stop the weird confederacy hat tips

again others have pointed these out with much more thoroughness than I could, but the names of some characters and locations, as well as some of the language used to describe the browncoats, has uncomfortably confederate vibes. instead i propose we very Clearly tip our hats to the Alliance equaling space capitalism instead! you can’t go wrong with space capitalism as a villain.

don’t! make! the! psychotic! character! violent!

listen i love River Tam with my whole heart. but you should absolutely not portray your only character with psychosis as violent because of that psychosis!!!!!!! and yeah, a huge part of her character is that her brain got fucked up by the alliance and so she hallucinates and is also a super ninja. but like. she doesn’t need to be a super ninja for her character to work, okay? the crew does not need to be scared of her for her character to work, okay??? more on this later bc it would take a lot of care and nuance to make her character work but i really think it can be done

things we are absolutely keeping:

found family tropes my fucking beloved

this should be self evident. this is why the show is as appealing as it is despite its flaws, at least in my eyes.

malcolm reynolds, the knight in dusty armor

there’s something so appealing to me about what Mal stands for. because at his core is this ridiculous, silly, stubborn, doomed devotion to what he thinks is important and right, a romantic idealism thinly covered by cynical cowboy platitudes that he thinks make his bleeding heart totally invisible. and he is so obvious and entirely incorrect. bless. this is a man who will do anything for his family, who charges into swordfights to defend his friend from a man who wants to turn her into an object despite having no clue how to hold a sword. at his worst, he starts brawls in bars just for the martyr’s thrill of being persecuted for supporting the right; at his best, he inspires downright religious belief from his crew because he represents a romantic and chivalrous and doomed dedication to the right thing over any practical concerns. and then he throws a “selfish” quip over it with 100% confidence that everyone fell for his clever distraction and believes him to be a dirtbag. he’s oblivious and ridiculous and god he makes me want to be a better person because he’s just so goddamned sincere. stupid, but sincere. 10/10 himbo. <3

Mal and Inara ultraslowburn friends to enemies to friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers to friends to...

there’s nothing i love more than a ship that’s just two people who know each other way too well, and they’re each the only one who knows the other well enough to call them out on their bullshit. the way Mal and Inara interact in the show sometimes makes me uncomfy but like. the core of their relationship has to stay.

space western aesthetic

i need the cows on a spaceship scene to stay like i need air okay

that sweet sweet religious shit

mal, who lost his faith in gd and a whole lot else during the war. who lost his faith in himself, and now feels he has to hide the part of him that still wants to be good, because he knows he can’t be anymore, and he feels like it’s embarrassing for a guy like him to want something so unattainable. who takes a preacher on board, and the preacher has lost something, too. the preacher has his own past, and his own questions. but not questions like the observant neurodivergent girl, the one who wants to interact with and understand this thing that’s so important to him, but it just doesn’t click with how her brain works and she feels like something needs to be fixed, either the Bible or herself. and Mal takes care of them all, and slowly, he begins to find gd again, not in a prayer but in humanity. humanity doesn’t need to be fixed, like the alliance thinks. the shining imperfect strawberry sweetness of it in his family’s smiles is something to be worshiped and served and devoted to. and he finds he has something to believe in again. (and his crew find that he’s given them someone to believe in, too. and maybe suddenly he’s a saint.)

and finally, my brilliant ideas as to what i would like to add:

TRANS WOMAN KAYLEE RIGHTS

listen her femininity is so important to me okay? it’s so thrilled about everything that’s pretty, from dresses to the spaceship’s electric innards, and it’s so non-traditional and grease stained until it’s not and it’s pink and ruffly and twirly, and she never sees any of it as a contradiction, because none of it contradicts, it’s all just her! her gender is warmth and love and prettiness, feeling pretty and appreciating the pretty and making her friends’ days pretty too.

i want us to find out she’s trans in that episode with the ball, and i want us to find out alongside Mal who just never asked or never realized. Kaylee gasps and squeals at the dress in the shop window and Mal makes an off handed, ill considered comment, and then... someone yanks him aside and hisses a few very significant words in his ear. and suddenly he remembers what the blue white and pink she painted all over the engine room means, and he knows he has something to make right. so he buys her that dress himself and lets her know just how pretty she looks, and when he walks into that ball with her displayed on his arm like something precious, he looks the proudest out of any man there. and she notices. for a few seconds, of course, until there’s chocolate, and ‘nara, and a chandelier—and some horrible girls, but she’s used to that, until—suddenly, she finds her people. a group of old men who light up when she jokes about compression coils and whack presumptuous boys who ask her to dance. they adopt her as a treasured granddaughter, and Mal is beaming at her like a proud dad, and she finds that one of her new elderly friends gazes a little too long at her bracelet, and so she gives it to xem and teaches xem a few new words, and... it’s a good day, huh? it’s a really good day. (of course, then the captain has to go and punch somebody in the face, but it was a real nice party up until then.)

also she and Simon are both transhet t4t im correct and you know it

time for a better River Tam

the first thing we’ve established is that this version of her is not unpredictably violent and the crew is not scared of her!!!! it makes no sense to take a kid who’s primarily brilliant, experiment on her brain, give her telepathic powers....... and tack on the fact that she also has super strength and speed and dexterity and what not, AND say that they programmed her to be super violent. no! no. not only is that extremely harmful rep, that’s also just stupid.

instead!! my version of River is in fact not terrifying to the crew, but is actually the one they feel safest around. River has always been totally blunt, she was one of those kids you could tell realllllly early was autistic, and she doesn’t like being disengenous at all. so you can always trust her to tell the truth and not play weird passive aggressive games or have any hidden agenda, which makes her just a really chill person to be around. also, one of her longtime special interests is music and dance, so whether or not she’s nonverbal on a given day, there will always be some sort of beautiful sound when she’s around. she does have the singing voice of a dying crow unfortunately but that’s ok bc Simon’s is even worse and they’re both incredibly competitive so you’ll at least get free entertainment out of the affair.

my version of River does have psychosis and hallucinations because of the trauma of the experiments, and they are really troubling to her. she and Simon work together to find ways to cope and meds that help, and it’s a process, but there are some things that help.

the only thing she gained from the academy was the ability to hear people’s thoughts and sense the future a little bit. and yeah, that led to her picking up a few spooky secrets at the beginning, which, yikes. and for a while, it was hard to figure out which voices were real and which were hallucinations. but around her friends, she always feels safe to ask “did you just think about triple cheese burritos or was that just a me thing?”, and they’ll always tell her the truth no matter how embarrassing their thoughts are, bc it’s important to all of them to respect her and help her sort accurately through what’s reality and what’s not. and bit by bit, she gets better and better at figuring out what kinds of things tend to be telepathy and what kinds of things tend to be psychosis, and that each one feels a little different. and because of the trust and respect and support of her found family she’s able to do that in a safe environment!!!

trans man Simon rights

listen i wanted to keep him as just a side note on Kaylee’s list but he is my son and he’s important to my heart so here goes

out on the outer rim where Kaylee’s from, gender ain’t much of a big deal, there’s an individualistic quality to life out there, and so if the trail you blaze is the trail of a woman or a man or neither or both, that’s respected even in the rare cases where it’s not outright encouraged. but in the inner planets, where competition and connections and public faces and family names are everything, you have to be what’s expected of you to survive. you can’t change your brand, you can’t be anything other than what your family planned for you since before you were born, it’s incredibly hard to survive in such a hyper competitive environment, and so your very identity becomes just a tool in how to market yourself for better success.

needless to say Simon (just as autistic as his little sister and also very trans) fuckin hated it there. but he was very good at it. correction: he was very good at his very specific field of STEM, good enough to where people stopped talking about how cute he looked in bows and started talking about how impressive his work was from a very young age. and his work had no gender. he could be whatever he wanted to in equations. so that was where he could express himself, and gd, he got so much praise for it, he never wanted to stop.

not until he discovered that his sister needed him, and ran away, and needed a disguise, and realized... suddenly, every stifling rule and prying eye was a million miles away. he was freefloating, freefalling, with none of the charted paths he’d been following all his life... so you know what? fuck it. he’s always enjoyed the name Simon. and since it’s not on any legal records, it’ll make him just that much more untraceable.

and on Serenity, starting over with new people who never knew him before his transition feels like an unbelievable blessing that just dropped right into his lap. he has to keep up the secrecy, he has to make sure they never find out who he used to be, because gd, it’s so nice when they look at him and say his name right, and he doesn’t know if he can handle losing that, not when it’s so new and so important to the person he’s finally becoming. but then one day, the unthinkable happens, the wanted posters for his arrest have an old name on them, they’re looking for the Tam sisters, and... nothing changes. the crew of Serenity could not give even a tenth of a percent of a fuck, and it doesn’t seem like they even know they’re supposed to. huh. that’s new. Simon could get used to that, he thinks.

i’m sure there’s more i could add, but it’s 4:30 in the morning now, so if more occurs to me, ill simply add it in a reblog tomorrow. if you’ve read down this far, i am in love with you. please let me know your Better Firefly ideas, too, bc im always down to yell about this show!!!

#firefly #Serenity #in which i choke out joss whedon with my bare hands and rescue his characters and give them better homes #ollies fix it series #malcolm reynolds #ollies personal good firefly canon

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ketterdam-it · 2 years

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Hey y'all! Thank you so much for 500 on Instagram! I'd ironically just finished my beloved "Kanej Letters" series, but seeing as y'all loved it as much as I do, I decided to write this addition to celebrate!

This is a write/draw it in your style challenge! So be creative! Rewrite it, draw this or a scene that you think could come after it! Or write Kaz's response! I can't wait to see what y'all create! Ps. Should I make this a new series?

!Please use the tag #Maya500wiiys or #Maya500diiys

Dearest Kaz,

I hope this letter finds you well. The sea has been merciful these past two weeks, no different from when I last updated you, thankfully. Unfortunately, I've been quite unwell the entire time, the mornings are especially terrible.

The gulls squawk their hellos, so reminiscent of the crows in Ketterdam, but only from within my bedchamber. No, when I step outside it's an entirely different world, that or blue waters instead of black, at least on the best days, and far less screaming and shouting of drunkards- unless you count a few Rotty's friends of course.

I miss you dearly, often remembering the voyages you've joined me on, wishing you were here now, rather than very likely, holed up in your office. Won't you go outside for me, at least on the day you receive this letter? You'd better, I'll tell Marya to cut you off from your supply of cheesecake.

I do have a surprise for you, it's the true reason for this letter. I've tried to wait another week to respond at my usual time, but I simply couldn't wait, Kaz.

I'll be home soon, instead of the full 8-month voyage. I am on my way to you now, by the time you receive this letter I should be merely days away, days away from being within your arms, days away from our pets. I'll be staying for some time, the ocean needn't always keep me to herself. But I'm sure you'd like to know why? Why am I coming home early, only a month after setting out?

I'd love to tell you, but I won't. You'll just have to wait, I'm sure the anticipation won't kill you- Oh who am I kidding though, it'd kill me. We have a new member of our little family, my love. You can't even tell you, it hasn't even begun to show, but there's no denying it. Tryne confirmed it a few days ago, she's certain, though I asked her not to tell me whether it'll be a little boy or girl…

Kaz, I can't tell you how much I already adore them, how much of our new life I've already imagined. Tryne promised to tell us both when we arrive, so that we may learn the news together.

I'll be home soon, you must promise to keep safe. I know it'll only be a few weeks, but I know how dangerous the barrel is, and I know you, I know you think you're bulletproof. You aren't Kaz. Remain safe, for me, for our little one. They mustn't grow up without you- I mustn't be left to grow old without you.

This letter, I'm realizing, is fairly long, so I'll end it here. Keep safe, go outside! And tell everyone I'll be home soon.

With love,

Treasure of your heart,

Captain of the Wraith,

Inej Ghafa

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vegalocity · 3 years

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The pieces fall (Red Groom AU)

Basically i said to myself 'I need to finish this before i get too deep with the Animorphs stuff' and then realized this was the final chapter about halfway through lmao

TW: Death, blood, 'To The Pain' is retold in its entirety

Red Son was out of time.

He stalled as long as he could, bought as much time to drag the official ceremony on as possible But it was for naught. He heard the commotion outside, the demons shrieking in fear the booming voice that reminded him of the mercenary in Spider Queen's Employ, Spat the tea forced into his mouth in the Prince's face, and loudly cursed and raved, insisting not only that he did not consent to this, but also that this sham of a marriage would only last for the length of time it would take for his love to arrive.

His Noodle Boy would come for him, he'd crowed and bragged with all his might, and the Prince had insisted the futility of the hope, that his love was dead, and yet more lies, that he'd seen to it himself.

But he couldn't hide the fear behind his eyes and Red Son announced as much. He couldn't move with the cuffs restraining him, his hands throbbing in pain and a solid purple color from the restriction of blood flow, but he raged and rallied anyway, he was tempted to try and ruin the fine robes the servants had forced him into, to scorch them without a care to what injuries would be laid onto himself from it, but he didn't want to be in rags when his love crashed through the doors.

But then the ceremony was finished, despite his protests, and Red Son was out of time.

He struggled against the guards as they shuffled him through the halls, followed by the weak and fading demon king, but one final ditch plan formed in his head as the halls lit with flame and he was brought to the prince's rooms.

“I suppose I should apologize, demon king.” The frail creature turned to Red Son and he felt a strange sort of pity for the man. He seemed no longer aware of what year it was let alone the cruelty of his own offspring.

“What was that young fellow?”

“I'll have to be killing your son tonight, or I'll die instead. And you were probably a kind man before this curse destroyed your body and mind, so I felt I should tell you as much.” he placed a hand on the King's arm and he hummed absently as their paths diverged.

As then the door slammed shut behind him, and Red Son's last gambit had to be played. If he was fast and he burned hot enough he could do it. It would be a struggle to work around afterward, but if he could manage it and he had Xiaotian to help him work around it he could invent something to compensate by the end of the year.

Still, to cut ones own hands off to escape bindings and then murder their fiance was certainly going to be a challenge.

–

She saw him. For just a moment she saw the Macaque, the flash of dark fur, the curl of his tail, those six ears, those cruel amber eyes. She'd said what she'd been waiting to say for ten years, she held her head high and said the phrase that had kept her going for so long.

And he'd fled.

She'd parted form the group the second he'd left, racing through the corridors, breaking through doors, and following the faint sound of fading footsteps. Finally, Finally it was happening. Today was the day. The day she'd been waiting for for ten years. The day she finally walked up to the monster that ruined her life, the bastard that stole her father from her, the macaque that took everything from her before she was even a woman, and she finally made him pay.

She descended a staircase that lead deeper into the halls and a sharp pain pierced through her gut. Xiaojiao yelped and brought a hand to her side, she saw the dark fur for only a brief moment before she stumbled back, hand clasping over the- over the blade-

he'd thrown a knife at her and it had landed in side. She didn't think it pierced anything important, but she couldn't be sure. It felt like she'd been struck by lightning in one very small localized area. Warm blood quickly soaking through her shirt and staining her hand.

It wasn't that her legs weren't working anymore, but they refused to obey her as her back hit the wall and her knees turned to jelly. She slid until her bottom brushed the stairwell behind her.

Ten years.

And she was a sitting duck. The Macaque could kill her in one swipe of that wretched spiked staff of his and she'd die a failure.

“I'm sorry father-” she muttered softly to herself. “I tried.”

“Hang on, I recognize that sword.” The Macaque's smarmy voice broke through her thoughts. “You're that dragon girl aren't you?” He whistled lowly. “It's been what, ten years?” slowly she watched the monster approach. “Have you been tracing me your whole life?” He laughed, a cruel cold thing. “and right on the precipice of victory you die here, bleeding out from a stomach wound. Pathetic.” he leaned against a table, ready to host the banquet for the wedding that would never come now. “Honestly that's hilarious.”

her fist tightened over the handle in her stomach.

–

He needed to be quick, he only had a little time before the Prince came in to end him, and with his hands so useless already he would just need to stop the bleeding which would be a snap once he had his fire back.

But he needed something sharp first. His hands gave dull throbs of pain whenever he tried to force the sluggish digits to move but eventually through his rummaging through the nearby work desk he found a small silver dagger, likely the one the prince was planning on using to kill him later on. He'd have to brace the knife on something to get both of his hands and if he passed out in pain he was as good as dead.

Soon enough he pulled together a brace on the worktable, and went about steadying his left hand first, if he was quick he could pass it right through cleanly and-

“You know there's kind of a shortage on perfect hands, It'd be kind of a shame to waste such beauty as yours.” a voice cut through his thoughts.

A familiar voice. But a kindly one.

His heart leaped into his throat and he felt his face turn red as he turned to find Xiaotian, a little beaten up and still in his False Monkey King garb laying on the bedding as if this were any day back on his mountain. Red Son wondered just how long his love had been there, watching him plotting out and trying to carry out his own dismemberment, and Red Son hadn't noticed. It would have been embarrassing if he bothered to care.

But he didn't, he cared far more about seeing his beloved again and ignored the pain in his hands as he fell on top of Xiaotian in the bed, barely able to get his name out before Red Son was kissing him. The uncertainty that the prince had placed in his mind burning away in and instant as he felt Xiaotian move against him he was kissing him back, he wasn't angry or upset-

But he wasn't returning the embrace.

Red Son pulled himself away from that perfect mouth just long enough to smile and mumble a small teasing comment. “Is this your revenge for leaving you waiting? Must I beg just to get you to hold me?”

“Ah-” Xiaotian sounded pained, but when Red Son let up properly any trace of discomfort was gone. “No, it's just a bit complicated.” But there were other pressing matters.

“I just need a moment my love, no matter if I'd love nothing more than to run off with you, I wasn't able to stop the Prince from forcing things to fall in his way.” It was a rock in his gut to consider, especially how without the use of his hands he'd need to somehow pull a victory against a demon prince in his own mountain but-

“If we want to be together this farce of a marriage needs to be made defunct.”

“Well did you consent to it?” That gave him pause.

“Huh?”

“The marriage, did you give consent to it?”

“Of course not!” his temper flared for a moment only to be immediately quelled by the small adoring grin Xiaotian hadn't stopped looking at him with. “I spent the whole time rejecting the whole thing, loudly. Violently. Buying time for you to break the ceremony up, wonderful timing by the way Noodle Boy, I was just about to chop my own hands off if you hadn't noticed.”

“I did actually. Horrifying. But crafty.”

“But what does my consent have to do with it, that's not how demons work things out-”

“Maybe, but it means more when its demons marrying each other.” His gaze flickered to a place just over Red Son's shoulder. “Wouldn't you agree, your highness?”

a thin blade rested on Red Son's shoulder. “A mistake that shall never be repeated, 'Monkey King'” the Prince hissed, breath hot and far too close to Red Son's ear.

–

“Are- Are you still trying to fight?” Her knees felt like they were about to give in, and her hands were shaking, but she was able to pull the blade from her side and raise her sword again. “Wow you're obsessed!” The macaque crowed, before finally taking out his staff. “That's gonna get you into trouble some day.” he sent the head of the staff for her face, child's play, the flat of her sword hit it right before impact and pushed it to the side, one half of her hair was taken down from its updo, the stone cracked beside her head.

But her skull wasn't smashed in.

The Macaque pulled away and made another lunge. He was rusty. How long had it been since he'd actually fought anyone? She made the next jab skew to the other side, her hair now fully released from its former ties, the wall behind her now a pile of rubble.

It seemed the Macaque realized she wasn't an easy kill because he started to properly wield his staff again.

His form was sloppy. Strikingly easy to counter, even with the fact that she was stumbling forward, free hand buried in her clothes to try and stop the bleeding in her side as she fought.

She opened her mouth, and she wanted to say something witty, but she couldn't think of any words to say at all, her entire mind was turning to white noise, save the one thing she'd been carrying with her for a decade.

“Hello, my name is Long Xiaojiao. You killed my father, prepare to die.”

Her side gave another throb and she caught herself on a nearby table. The Macaque spurred forward to try and capitalize on the opening.

The bench below splintered into pieces and she forced him back a few steps. “Hello, my name is Long Xiaojiao. You killed my father, prepare to die.”

“I heard you the first time!” The macaque grunted as he swung forward again.

Child's play.

Somewhere along the line, she'd surpassed him.

“Hello! My name is Long Xiaojiao! You killed my father! Prepare to die!”

“Stop saying that!” The Macaque growled, he was getting flustered. Good.

He made another jab at her, this time when she parried her blade met flesh and struck a line across his cheek.

“Hello! My name is Long Xiaojiao! You Killed my father! Prepare to die!” She crowed, now she had him on the ropes, when she moved forward and struck he'd have to move back to not risk being hit again. She could corral him. Her blade landed again, this time along the Macaque's knuckles, and his staff clattered to the ground. The tip of the jade blade tore into his shoulder, right in the place her scar was.

She only ever told people the first part of how she would picture this to go. And sure it wasn't perfect, she didn't expect to nearly die right out the gate, but it didn't need to be.

It just needed this.

“Offer me money.” She pointed the blade to his nose. He was without a weapon and if he tried any tricks she could run him through before they were completed.

“Three mountains full, all yours.”

“Power too, offer that.”

“All that I have and more.”

She leaned back just a hair, not enough to give him any room to work, but just enough to gesture. “Offer me anything I want in the world.”

The Macaque seemed to know where this was going, and whether he had a backup plan in mind she didn't care. “Anything.” He made one last lunge forward to try and grab her.

A grip on a sleeve, a jerk forward, the warm blood dripping down her sword.

“I want my father back you son of a bitch.”

When the Macaque's body fell she didn't... feel much relief. A little, the release of tension of a confrontation, the knowledge that she hadn't wasted her life.

But no revelations, no great euphoria or deep happiness at finally avenging her family. Her side was still bleeding, and the scar on her shoulder was never going to fade.

She began to stumble forward through the pain. She'd lost Sandy some hallways back, and they'd left Xiaotian high and dry, she needed to find them or they'd never get out of this damned mountain.

–

“Now beloved, you may want to remove yourself from this charlatan before I'm forced to do something you'll regret.” Red Son glared over his shoulder at the prince, but he gazed impassively back at him, and flicked the tip of his ear. There was a small zing of pain and suddenly the side of his face was very warm. Xiaotian hissed through his teeth at the Prince, but Red Son did as asked.

Once again parting him from his love because he had no choice but to trust a liar to be telling the truth.

“I should have had your body tossed in the forest when I had you killed. I never liked Six Ears' machine.” The Prince huffs. “But nonetheless it'll be more rewarding to kill my husband's lover first and THEN my husband. And hey! I won't even need your parent's army beloved! The Monkey King will be dead and Flower Fruit Mountain ripe for the picking!” The Prince crowed. “So, Qi Xiaotian, to the death?”

“To the pain.” Xiaotian didn't even flinch. Despite the fact that Red Son had never heard of such a duel condition.

Apparently nor had the prince, “I'm not sure if I'm familiar with that one.”

“I'll explain, and I'll use small words so you can understand you slug faced warmongering buffoon.” The tone in his Xiaotian's voice was unlike anything Red Son had ever heard, even when he was still masquerading as the Monkey King. It was severe, cold, yet ruthless. The unrelenting force of a blizzard.

“That may be the first time in my life someone below my status has insulted me.” The Prince turned a very strange shade of violet.

“Well it won't be the last. 'To the pain' means that once I defeat you, which I will, first you lose your feet, just below the ankles.” Xiaotian held direct eye contact with the Prince and Red Son found himself unable to look away. “Then your hands at the wrists, next your nose-”

“Then my tongue I assume? I killed you too quickly the last time, an error I will not be repeating.” The Prince reared back with his sword and Red Son made a grab for the knife he'd had before, but when Xiaotian spoke up again the prince stopped.

“I wasn't finished! The next thing you lose Is your right eye, followed quickly by your left!”

“And then my ears I get the picture! Let's get on with it!” The Prince was losing his temper fast, Red Son needed to act quickly. He couldn't torch the prince and hope it would be enough to break his cuffs, but he could barely hold the knife he'd dived for let alone be able to wield it with any force.

“Wrong!” Xiaotian interrupted, his face still the picture of determined calm. “Your ears you keep! And I'll tell you why!” The Prince was stopped again, and Red Son figured if he could put enough weight into his grip he could probably disarm him on his own at the moment. And another wave of frustration washed over him at the realization that he certainly couldn't put enough weight into his grip.

“-So that every shriek of every child dismayed by your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every maiden that cries out 'Heavens above what is that THING' Will be heard oh-so perfectly, in your untouched ears.” He huffed a small laugh. “That is what 'to the pain' means, it means I leave you in Anguish. Alone in your head with naught but the screams you've long since deserved forever.”

There was a pause as the Prince processed the threat. “You're bluffing.”

“It's possible, worm.” Xiaotian responded. “I could be bluffing. It's conceivable you miserable odious mass.” 'Odious' what kind of vocabulary did his love learn while becoming the false Monkey King? “I could be lying here because I lack the strength to stand. But then again, would you like to take that chance?” slowly, as though he were in great pain, Xiaotian began to sit up, and from there stand. He lifted his staff from its position leaning against the bed frame, and pointed the end to the Prince's nose.

“Drop your sword.”

it clattered to the ground.

“Undo the cuffs on Red Son's wrists.” a quick spell and a gesture and the golden bands clattered to the ground. A fierce pain jolted through either of Red Son's hands as the blood was finally allowed to start traveling back through them.

“Have a seat.” The Prince stumbled into a chair and Xiaotian glanced over at him.

“Can you tie anything?” his fingers curled painfully but he could probably manage, so he nodded and only then noticed the coiled up rope beside Xiaotian's former resting place.

“When did you get that?”

“You never know when you need rope.” All the same he tied the prince up firmly, excepting on the wrists that he tied to the armrests of the chair, those he tied as tightly as possible.

See if he liked watching his hands turn purple.

Just about as Red Son was done restraining the prince the sound of approaching footsteps came near, and with a flash of green (well, green stained red) he recognized the Swordsman mercenary.

She looked around at the lot of them and then her gaze settled on Xiaotian. “Where's Sandy?”

“He took of with you!” Xiaotian countered.

“Yeah but then he said he'd double back!”

“Well-!” Xiaotian cut himself off with a surprised yelp as his body pitched to the side, Red Son of course was there to catch him.

“Quick on the draw Red Boy.” The Swordsman hummed “Was that just reflex?”

He didn't pay her any mind. “Xiaotian what happened are you alright?”

“I'll be fine.”

“He was mostly dead all day, his body's completely zapped of strength.” The Swordsman countered.

“You've been dead?!”

“Mostly dead!” Xiaotian corrected as if that made any difference.

“Ha!” The Prince cackled. “I knew you were bluffing!” The Swordsman had zero patience for him though as that was enough for her to press her sword to his nose. “I knew he was bluffing.” The Prince repeated far more sedate.

“Xiaojiao! Xiaojiao can you hear me?” a voice calling from the window broke up all the near forming arguments, and though ti took Red Son a little finagling to ensure he had a proper grip on Xiaotian despite his hands not wanting to grip much of anything right now, the three made their way to the window peeking out the side of the mountain only for Red Son to see the large mercenary waiting below with a small gaggle of horses.

“Ah! Xiaojiao! There you are! I was trying to make my way back to Xiaotian and I ended up in the Prince's stables! The poor things deserve to have better keepers I think! I figured I'd take four of them, since there would be four of us when we found the Red Prince.” Sandy's eyes flickered to Red Son. “Oh, Hello Red Prince!”

“Nice job Sandy!” the Swordsman (Xiaojiao apparently) cheered. “Think you can catch some projectiles?”

“Of course!”

the large mercenary (Sandy) positioned himself below the mountainside, ready to catch any and all of them, and Red Son could remember, vividly, just how adept he was at such physical performances.

“well, royalty first.” Xiaojiao turned to him and gestured. Which, whatever. Though his hands gave another painful throb, he climbed onto the windowsill and jumped. The air was cool as it whipped against him.

–

“You know, it's funny.”

“What is?”

“I killed the Six Eared Macaque and now... I'm not sure what else to do. I've been in the revenge business so long, I don't know if I have anything else of value to try out.”

“Would you like to try leading? I could use a captain I can trust back on Flower Fruit Mountain.”

Xiaojiao shrugged.

–

“Oh, well you don't wanna hear this. The end I suppose.”

“What? Why are you stopping if it's not the end?”

“Well you were very specific about not wanting to hear about the kissing stuff, I don't want to gross you out or anything little one.”

“Well... Maybe I... won't super mind... if it's the ending. But only because it's the ending!”

–

It took a week's travel for the four to enter truly safe territory. To come into the lands of Flower Fruit Mountain and be greeted by the armies of demon monkeys that Xiaotian called his people.

They were finally safe, and Red Son recalled that he'd promised himself to wait until such a time came before he allowed himself to drown again in the ardor of having his love back, but now that it came, he found he simply wasn't as deliriously giddy as he once was. The stresses that had mounted between Xiaotian's return and now had dampened the mood, though his hands no longer ached and strength had returned to Xiaotian's body, they'd both been through so much stress there simply wasn't the space in either of their heads to be anything but focused on reaching their destination.

Of course Red Son had curled up next to his love every night around the campfire the Swordsman- That Xiaojiao would light and tend to, but there was nothing but relief in his body, bone deep, weary relief.

But now they were safe, and Red Son simply couldn't muster up the energy. He should have been jittery and excited to be alone with his love, but honestly he'd just wanted to bathe and eat something beyond travel rations.

Then the dirt and sweat had been washed away and their bellies were full of fruit and what few savory dishes Xiaotian had taught his monkeys to make, and Sandy and Xiaojiao shared a sly grin before going to explore 'the guest bedrooms' in Xiaotian's iron palace behind the watercurtian, and he was alone with his love.

And he felt like he should do something, yet nothing was coming to mind. They were safe, Xiaotian was alive and right here, and they could finally be together in the open, and Red Son felt such a fool for the fact that he didn't know how to proceed.

Xiaotian scooted closer to him and placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging Red Son to the side until he was leaned up against him.

“Red Son.” His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through Red Son's chest.

“Xiaotian.” he responded simply.

He might not have known what to do, but Xiaotian it seemed did. He reached over to gently cup Red Son's face with a hand, and brought him close.

There have been more love stories on this earth than we have time to ever recount in their entirety, but every story has in it a kiss. A soft, loving kiss, a kiss of relief and thankfulness and passion as the hard part was finally over.

It has been said that in the upper echelons of these kisses, that the one shared between Red Son and Qi Xiaotian in that moment, blew them all out of the water.

Tomorrow would come, and Red Son would sent missive to his parents explaining the situation, and Xiaotian would prepare a message to be sent to his own fathers, and they'd spend the next few days bracing for impact.

But tonight was theirs.

And though struggles were certainly on their way, all in all, their lives were finally on the path to be together.

And to live happily ever after.

–

“-The end. Now I think you should be getting to sleep.”

“Okay....”

“Welp, get better soon little one. So long.”

“....Grandpa Sun?.... Maybe you could come over tomorrow too? I could teach you how to play my game?”

“Heh, As you wish.”

#Spicynoodleshipping #Red Groom AU #Monkie Kid #lmk #Qi Xiaotian #lmk Red Son #Long Xiaojiao #lmk Sandy #Princess Bride AU #lmk Six eared macaque #Yes I know Six Ears went out like a punk shut up thats how Count Rugen dies this is an AU #Vega writes stories too #I said to myself 'no animorphs until Princess Bride is done'#and then Princess Bride got pounded out immediately #....I should hold my fics hostage in my head like that more often talk about results lmao

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

Text

Drink and make merry, my friend (you'll be gone come morning)

Day four: historical- pirates // sci-fi- space

There are three pirates chilling in the dungeons. None seem overly concerned about the fact that they’ll be hanged come morning.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Bartholomew H. Allen. Bart for the friends. ‘The red nuisance’ for everyone else. Wasn’t the first time he’d been inside this very same prison cell; probably won’t be the last. The guards stationed in front of his door were the quickest on their feet, so maybe they’d have a minimum chance of catching the fucker should he escape again. Probably not, but the Arch Duke had been particularly displeased the last time he’d weaseled his way out of their prison, so they had to at least pretend to try.

He’d been unconcernedly chewing on dried meat for hours now. How did he manage to smuggle it into the cell, no one knows, but after he bit the first few hands that tried to take his treasure away, the general consensus was to let him be.

Similarly, anyone who held any notions of spending a fun afternoon with the only woman among the sea bandits was quick to be corrected, either by a broken hand or a kick that stole the air from their lungs like it was gold from a ship’s treasury.

Her name? Cassandra Sandsmark. She did not fuck around, and really, considering she would be dead by that time the next night, it was’t worth it to punish her for ‘prisoner misconduct’. That was why they left her be. Not because she scared their balls back into their bodies. The fact that she was Princess Diana’s wayward niece and, death row or not, the noble Lady would murder them all for even breathing in her direction, was a notable plus.

The last pirate, well… He’d chosen to spend his last night on earth doing push ups. It was probably better to leave him to his own devices.

Conner Kent. Whether or not he had any relation to Crown Prince Kal was anyone’s guess, but they did look startlingly similar; something the younger man had taken advantage of to avoid capture multiple times in the past.

To catch any of them wasn’t an easy task. The fact that they were all there thanks to the same man was beyond amazing.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

An auburn haired boy ran through busy port streets, his form almost a blur between passerbys. Jumping over crates, avoiding street vendors, sliding over banisters and landing at the very last step of any stair in his way, the youngster made a truly astounding escape.

Tough luck his opponent had accounted for that.

Just as he was rounding that last corner separating him from the port (and his freedom), a foot struck out. Quick thinking saved him from face planting on the disgustingly dirty streets, but his surprise and momentum cost him precious seconds of stumbling.

The swords pointing him from every direction when he straightened weren’t as threatening as the lone young man standing behind the National Guard, unarmed but from the cutting edge on his glare. Without breaking eye contact, the runner threw both hands up in surrender.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The guards barely even glanced up when the servant girl let herself in, softly pushing the trolley. They did, however, when the scent of food caught their attention.

“That for us, pretty lady?”

Blushing, the girl looked at both men from under her brown fringe.

“The… the prisoners…”

Elbowing each other, they smiled, sharks smelling blood in the water as they eyed the delicacies on display.

“It’d be a waste to let people who are gonna be fish food by this time tomorrow eat such an amazing feast.”

The girl hesitated again, her duty to feed the prisoners at war with the populace general unwillingness to disobey their military enforcers.

“Come on, pretty lady”, the other one edged on. “Who’s gonna tell the higher ups?”

Something flashed behind her beautiful blue eyes, and she nodded, gently pushing the trolley in their direction.

From within their cells, the three pirates watched in silence.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

If anyone were to ask, he’d been minding his own damn business when shit went down.

He had only wanted a beer. Really, life just wasn’t fair to wanted criminals.

It was just his luck that his crew chose this particular tavern to drink and make merry. Though, Kon supposes, it wasn’t their fault either. How would they know that the Lavender Throne pirates favored the same establishment?

He’d only been a member of the Renegades’ crew for about two months now, but he already knew how this fight would turn out. He was easily their best fighter, and the Lavenders were all about the same level of well trained; so here he was, alone in a circle of enemies, fist held high and feet doing their best not to trip over fallen crewmates.

Or maybe not so alone. A smaller back pressed against his, and he could see from the corner of his eye how the men trying to get his blind spot fell like flies. Not one to doubt his blessings, he doubled his efforts.

When things died down, Kon relaxed, marveling at the fact that just two of them were enough to deal with a full tavern of enemies. The bar maidens started to rise from under the tables they chose to hide behind, and Conner was about to turn around and thank his surprise saviour, when the feeling of cold metal against his neck stopped him in his tracks.

Uniformed men started bleeding into the room, dragging unconscious pirates away. When one approached him and his mysterious capturer, he almost felt the man behind him shaking his head.

“This one is high risk. I’ll take him myself.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Are you sure? There’s plenty enough for all of us”, asked Dumb Guard Number one again, words almost unrecognizeable under his chewing.

The girl, sitting primly in the chair they oh so gentlemanly had offered for her to wait on until they finished their impromptu dinner, shook her head.

Dumb Guard Number two didn’t need to be told twice and snagged the last piece of bread.

“Is it just you two for the night?”, she asked, apropos of nothing.

The more sharing of the two nodded. “Yeah, until the morning shift guys come and take them away to the plaza for their sentence.”

She whistled softly.

“Seems kind of mean, having only you two to guard three of the most wanted pirates of the last few years.”

The second one smiled a bit. “Nah, we got dealt a nice hand. We get to eat and laze around, and as good as they are, they can’t weasel their way between those bars. No excitement here. The day guards are the unlucky ones here.”

“How so? Aren’t them, like, a lot more? Seems like it’d be easier, sharing the weight of it.”

“Yeah, but Lieutenant Drake will be with them, ‘s going to personally oversee the executions. Can’t exactly slack off with the favored son of Archduke Wayne breathing over your shoulder, now can you?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Cassandra!”

“Go! I’ll hold them off!”

The older woman, holding desperately to the other’s hand, made a sound of profound distress.

“But-!”

“Donna, just go! If they catch you- just how much do you think Diana is going to suffer?”

“It’s the same with you! We can run together, there’s space in the spare boat”

They were running out of time. She knew convincing her older sister figure to leave her behind was not going to end well or happen quickly, so the blonde pirate shot a look to vice captain Artemis. They both knew Donna was just too important to risk like this, her relationship to Diana recognizable enough to use her as leverage against their Princess. Cassandra, as beloved as she was by the women who took her in, had spent the better half of her childhood hiding her real identity and running amok where few would be able to point her out as Princess Diana’s protegeè.

Ignoring her mistress’s screams, Vice captain Artemis’s arms went around her waist, lifting her clear off her feet and dragging her away, her strength forcing Donna’s hand free of Cassandra’s arm.

Soon, Cassie stood alone in an empty ship, sword in hand as she watched the sun setting over the horizon, the distant figure of dozens of escape boats a mere shadow in the distance.

When the sound of boards and then feet hitting the deck reached her, her hand tightened on the sword’s hilt, but she didn’t turn to see.

“It was a bold move. Brave, though.”

The words made her startle, spoken so closely to her ear, the approaching presence absolutely unnoticed until that exact second.

Breathing in deeply, Cassandra spun on her feet, sword raised. Her enemy was already a few feet away, safe from her board attack. His cold stare clashed with her feral growl, an ice prince facing off against an amazon fighter.

No other soldier dared approach them, as the sound of their clashing swords echoed in the quiet of the night as thunder.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Just as a distant clock was about to point both arms to its highest point, both guards fell asleep. Literally fell, face planting in the dirty prison ground.

Sighing tiredly, the young serving girl rose to her feet. Walking towards Dumn Guard Numer 2 (stopping only barely on her way to nudge Dumb Guard Numer one to the side, so he wouldn’t drown in the puddle his face had landed on), she crouched down and took the keys from his belt.

When she stood again, all three pirates were on their feet near their doors, waiting.

“Who’s first this time?” asked the youngest, voice vibrating in his excitement, smile bright.

“Me, for sure”, crowed Conner, hands on his hips.

“What are you talking about? I made him fight for it. Drew blood, even.” Cassandra, proud smile and raise hand, threw back in challenge.

To all their surprises, the maiden went straight for Allen’s door.

“What? Me?”

“What the fuck?”

“Are you seriously telling us IMP is the one who gave you the most trouble this time?”

The girl shrugged, but a small smile could be spotted under her calm facade if one cared enough to look for it (which they all did).

“I had to chase him all through Star Port city. I was tired afterwards. The two of you made me fight, but it wasn’t nearly as exhausting.”

The boy jumped out of his cell as soon as the door was opened, fist raised in victory.

“Yessss! Free booze!”

“It’s a stupid bet”, the girl shrugged at the other two’s upset frowns. “None of you are an actual challenge, after all.”

“Oh, shut up, asshole. Get us out of here before those dumbasses wake up.”

Before long, all three pirates and the young castle maid were running through empty streets towards the port.

“The ship is ready for you to take. I made it look like you stole it from a very drunk, very unsuspecting crew of beginners.” As they all ran, she… he, took his hand to his head, snatching away the brown wig. Hair, black like a raven’s wings, fell over his icy blue eyes.

Cassandra, keeping pace with him, accepted the disguise. “Where to, after?”

“There’s instructions on your next mission already written down on the back of the map, on the captain’s cabin. I left the key to the cellar as a paperweight over it, so there’s no way you’ll miss it.”

Behind them, the other two boys crowed in delight. Bart even makes a small little jump, never slowing their pace.

“Is it fully stoked?”

Turning to look at the bigger man over his shoulder, the maid-turned-criminal rolled his eyes.

“Half. I do need you all lucid enough to do your chores. But whatever you find along your way that doesn’t slow your progress on the mission, you can loot for yourselves. There’s an empty treasury on the right side of the ship just for that.”

Another jump, this time from the other pirate. The two running ahead shared an exasperated, though fond, look.

They reached the promised ship before long. It sat there, beautifully tilting this way and that thanks to the gentle waves reaching shore.

They stopped there for a second, the three pirates facing their rescuer.

“Will you be alright? Won’t anyone suspect?”

He shook his head, hands demurely raising his dress a slight inch from the ground in a small courtesy.

“Caroline Hill has a perfectly solid cover, and there are lots of people who’ll vouch for her if she’s ever suspected for tonight. Also, the guards chosen for the night shift are known for slacking off in their duty. Falling asleep close enough to the cells for one of you to snatch the keys and free themselves won’t be too much of a stretch for anyone to imagine.”

They smiled back at him.

“Do try to catch some sleep before going back there as Lieutenant Drake. You’ll need your beauty rest to give a convincing ‘I left those criminals in your care and you LOST THEM?!’ show.”

“The laughable state of the kingdom’s military is perpetually infuriating to me. Don’t worry, I’ll be believable. And I can use this as an excuse to fire the most incompetent guards in the history of ever.”

“Do you ever do anything without at least two different reasons and multiple plans banking on it?”

“Why would I, that just sounds like a waste of my time. Now go, run off, before someone sees four people hanging by the port and gets curious enough to remember faces.”

“When will we see you again?”, asks Conner, hand catching his friend’s shoulder before the man in the dress can turn around and leave.

“This mission should last a month or so, and after you hid the objective in the safe place I designated for it for me to pick up later, you’ll need to scatter. I’ll catch you again soo after that, so in total… maybe two months? Three if any of you give me an actual challenge, but I’m not holding my breath for that one.”

“Bastard. See you soon.”

“Make sure to take us drinking next time, Tim. We barely see you now that you have to play good lawful boy with your dad.”

“Only if you idiots take good care of the ship. The Red Bird is a delicate lady and I’ll hang you myself if there’s even a scratch on her beautiful shell.”

“It’s almost as if you care more about a bunch of wood and metal than us.”

“Because I do. Now fuck off.”

[In which Tim is a privateer (Basically a pirate with papers. As the name suggests, privateers were private individuals commissioned by governments to carry out quasi-military activities; in this case, Tim does illegal things for the greater good. As a military agent, he’s hiring himself lol) and the other three are pirates working for and with him, because they like to help him do good things and they also get a chance at fighting people, drinking and looting treasure outside their missions. Tim catching and then freeing them is how they exchange information or he gives them his orders.]

#my writting #core disaster week #day 4 #historical-pirates #pirates #privateers #tim drake #kon el kent #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #humor maybe?#action i guess #a little bit at least #no angst #that's for sure #weird if you know me lol

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the-melting-world · 3 years

Text

Strength | Side B: “Chasing Dials”

Art by @ligiawrites

~ In which a secretive barhand brings in the new year…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Lucio | Valdemar

Track Origins: “Chasing Dials” by Blanco White

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: Strength

Khleo is Non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably

cw: alcohol, implications of vampirism, mentions of blood

~ 2.3k words

***

Fireworks broke and rained hot glitter over the southern border of Center City and Goldgrave. A handful of bartenders were off duty and on the move.

Khlee von Heine walked among them. She was the only one who hadn’t taken the time to change out of her work clothes. Her coworkers were loud, merry, and prone to recklessness as they stumbled from one pop-up bar crawl to the next.

“Another year,” Gabe managed to roar over the next round of fireworks. “Can you believe we fucking did it?” He took a deep swig from the communal growler. The night was far from young and the barhands had lost track over how many times they refilled it. Gabe reluctantly handed it off to the next coworker so they could say their piece.

Khlee hung back in order to stand under a wooden arch whose sign was eclipsed in dead vines. But Khleo had committed its message to memory years ago.

Der Biergarten.

The plot of land overgrown in weeds and other invasive species was still up for sale, to Khleo’s relief. Though it was out of the way on most of her delivery routes, Khleo did her best to stop by every now and then. Just to make sure no one had bought up the property.

The barhand checked to see that her coworkers were distracted as she stepped up and snatched a flyer with the lot info off the gate. She folded it up and quickly tucked it in her pocket before the arm of a good friend looped around her neck.

Basil leaned on Khleo as he pressed the convex surface of the growler against her sternum.

“Your turn.”

Khleo playfully shoved him off of her, but kept the growler. She took a sip. Basil and the other barhands chided her — she was supposed to make a toast.

“Fine. Fine.” Khleo held up the bottle. “To progress.”

They made a show of peering into the depths of the amber glass. “Maybe this year we’ll get lucky and actually make some, yeah?”

Someone snatched the growler out of their hand. Gwendolyn? Max? The streets were too dark to tell.

Khleo’s friends were off. They blended in with the city’s bar crawlers as they chased down the next booze cart. People wanted refills that night, not whatever Khleo was about to say next.

Later when Khleo had returned to her apartment, she traded her work clothes for something softer and more comfortable. Then she dug through the pocket of her discarded jacket and retrieved the folded up flyer.

It was a short walk from her kitchen to the bedroom. There was no bed frame or vanity, just three lumpy mattresses stacked on top of each other that she rescued from the alley when she first moved in.

The room was already small, but it felt even more congested thanks to the uneven piles of text, of which there two types — loose leaf recipes or pages ripped out of cookbooks and cheap serial novels with depictions of bejeweled dragons on the covers.

The only piece of real furniture around was an antique dresser, the drawers of which were broken and jutting out like crooked teeth.

All except one.

Khleo took a deep breath before crouching and using both hands to work the bottom drawer open. Like always, it did not come quietly, but with a little patience and a lot of swearing, Khleo managed to pull it out.

Most of the drawer’s contents belonged to her late adoptive father, Hans von Heine. However, it was an unmarked jar that Khleo reached for. She screwed it open and tucked the flyer for the piece of real estate between old flyers and newspaper clippings back when the garden used to host events. The jar had cash in it too. Whatever Khleo could spare went into the jar. Most of it came from what was left of her tips after paying rent, bills, and whoever she needed in order to keep certain people off her back and out of her business.

Khleo sealed the jar and did her best to ignore the tightness in her chest as she struggled to get the drawer to shut all the way. Once she had, she found that her breathing had become more than a little unsteady. It only got worse when she heard the fireworks going off outside.

Khleo shut their eyes and leaned their forehead against one of the crooked drawers, trying not to dwell too much on where they were this time last here. As it turned out, they were right here, drunk and crying at the foot of this very dresser.

Khleo curled up on their side. Yes, tonight their head was buzzing from the alcohol, somehow both heavy and light. Yes, the tears had found their way to the surface again. Khleo was never one to hold them in as long as they could find the space to spill them.

Things would be different this year, Khleo told themself. They would make sure of it this time.

***

(Lucio’s POV)

Lucio hated the smell of this place. Rotting and damp. It was hard to believe that they were still in Vesuvia.

“You always have such a sour expression on your face whenever I come to feed. Why so, my Count?”

The silky, sardonic voice belonged to Lucio’s host, Quaestor Valdemar.

“Don’t call me that,” Lucio snapped. He wanted to fold his arms and stifle some of the shivers running up his back, but he couldn’t as long as he was hooked up to Valdemar’s device.

“My apologies, Lucio,” Valdemar corrected themself coolly.

Another shiver climbed up Lucio’s neck as he bit back the urge to say, I don’t want to be called that either.

“Tell me, what plagues you?” They added with a chuckle. “Don’t you like your living arrangement?”

Ever since cutting a deal with the scientist turned demon, Lucio had been living out his days in the lowest cellar of the Lazaret. When he was first brought back from the Devil’s realm, he had been too weak to demand anything else. At the time, all he cared about was that he was alive and wouldn’t be devoured by the courtiers.

Lucio glanced at the tube looping around his forearm, its transparent pathways already inflated with his blood.

But at what cost?

Lucio grinded his teeth. It was too late to consider that now.

This was how it always went anyway. Lucio would be presented with an opportunity — a way to improve what he could not on his own. He would leap at it, no questions asked.

Why, after all this time, after all those treacherous dealings could he not bring himself to stop and think things through?

As the last of Valdemar’s toll left his body, Lucio started to wonder what his mother might say about all of this. But he’d rather eat another shitty bargain than go down that road right now.

“Your contribution to our arrangement hasn’t been as satisfying compared to when we first began.”

“What are you trying to say?” Despite his nasty tone, Lucio was grateful for the distraction. “My blood’s not tasty enough for you?”

“It used to be,” Valdemar said. “I’ll be honest with you, Lucio, I agreed to keep you around as an energy reserve primarily for that reason. The notion of devouring you in one sitting and having to share with my dear contemporaries was not nearly as attractive as the possibility of having your flesh to dine on whenever I needed to during this indefinite campaign in your current reality.”

Lucio hissed as Valdemar unceremoniously removed the needle from his vein. He wasn’t sure how to react to what he had just heard. Thanks to Valdemar’s mask, all Lucio could read from their expression was the growing crow’s feet at the corners of their blood red eyes.

“So?”

Valdemar applied a cotton wad to the puncture wound and dug it in with their thumb.

“Ow! Hey – Owie!” Lucio yelped.

“So, my Count,” they sweetly clarified as they kept up the pressure, “I need you to find a way to restore that vitality you once possessed. Technically, you’re in peak physical health. I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror lately, but the evidence of your tussle with the plague has all but disappeared from your eyes. Your hair has been growing…” they took a moment to scan their critical gaze over the pale blond patches clinging to Lucio’s jaw. “You could easily blend in with the citizens.”

Lucio swallowed. “B-blend in? Why the devil would I want to blend in?”

Valdemar made a less than human sound as they peeled back their mask and bared their needle-sharp teeth at the former Count.

“Right now you taste like a boneless, gutless, gill-infected inferior breed of mackerel. And I prefer to have rare, mercury-rich, vinegar-glazed bluefin tuna. Captivity is poisoning your blood. So I’m giving you permission to get out there in your beloved city and find a way to sweeten it.”

The Quaestor gave Lucio a not-so-gentle shove in his chair. They replaced their mask as they straightened up. The former Count’s eyes widened as he covered his hand over his arm. The last thing he wanted was to piss off Valdemar. But he didn’t know the first thing when it came to what they were asking him to do.

“What happens if I can’t, erm… make my blood taste better? What if spending time in the city doesn’t work?”

The Quaestor sighed, their emotions back in check. They were already half occupied with cleaning their instruments and storing the sacks of Lucio’s blood in a portable cooler for later.

“Then I will have no choice but to invite my courtier companions over for a nice potluck dinner.” They glanced up. The crow’s feet were back. “And you’ll be the forgettable appetizer that no one asked for.”

Later, when Valdemar was kind enough to row Lucio across the stretch of water to the mainland, they suggested, “You should find some people who are very healthy. Outside of captivity, fish are the most robust when they’re in competition with other capable anatomies.”

Lucio hugged what was left of his royal uniform – a tattered speckled cape – around his shoulders. He grumbled, “Would you, for fuck’s sake, stop comparing me to a fish, Quaestor?”

Unperturbed, Valdemar said, “We’ve arrived.”

Lucio lowered his hood and blinked out at the morning overcast sky. His top lip curled into a distinctive snarl as he recognized where they were.

“Not here. Anywhere but here.”

Valdemar gestured to the nearest dock. “Get out, Lucio.”

The former Count wanted to blot out the images of the slumped architecture and purge his nostrils of the stale watery stench.

“Not the Flooded District. I can’t stand this place. Can’t you see that it’s a failure that I don’t need reminding of?”

“Lucio, don’t be so foolish,” Valdemar said almost tenderly as they nudged him out of the boat. “The entire city is your failure. Much of which is hard to see. Oh, but it’s there. Now go on,” they said as if encouraging a child at the fairgrounds, “go find someone healthy. I’ll come to retrieve you in a fortnight’s time.”

Lucio couldn’t believe he was watching Valdemar row off into the mist. He tried to take a deep breath, but the air was so bad that he just ended up coughing.

Even though Valdemar had been correct about Lucio’s appearance, looking nothing like he did in the days when he was the Count, he still found himself trying to crowd off his features with his hood any time a resident passed him by on the floating, rickety streets. But to his relief, no one seemed to know or even care about who he was or might be.

As soon as Lucio relaxed his shoulders and began walking with more confidence, the inner walls of his stomach suddenly contracted. Then he remembered. He had just given blood. Lots of it. Usually, the Quaestor supplied him with something to eat, but this time they hadn’t.

“Damn them,” Lucio hissed. He cradled his abdomen like it was made of glass as he tried to make his way towards some kind of common plaza. He had no money, but perhaps he would be able to find a dumpster to rummage through.

He was passing by a narrow alley when he caught a glimpse of the impossible out of the corner of his eye.

A lion.

Its coat was creamy and short all over. Its size was nothing short of mythical.

Lucio was tempted to shout at the two idiots occupying the alley with this beast on the loose, but they seemed both aware of its presence and entirely calm about it.

One of them was slumped against the wall of the grimy building. Despite their threadbare attire and weary expression, they were smiling at the other.

“No, Khlee. Please don’t. You’ll be late for work.”

The person squatting before the first seemed to be focused on the task of sewing up what appeared to be rips in a heavy cloak. Even with their short jacket, Lucio could detect the shape of their arms. Their brown curls had enough volume to hide most of the details in their profile.

“Nah. I’m already late. This’ll only take a minute.”

There wasn’t much time to take in the rest of their features before the big cat stepped up, blocking Lucio’s view of them.

< Can I help you? >

Lucio ran. He nearly tripped over himself getting out of there so fast. But he didn’t go far. He gripped the edge of a building and poked his head out, waiting for the lioness and her human to emerge. When they finally did, Quaestor Valdemar’s words from earlier echoed in Lucio’s mind.

Go find someone healthy.

Well, the individual strolling confidently down the street with a full grown lion at their side was definitely looking like the healthy sort.

At the moment, Lucio wasn’t really thinking about what would happen to him if he failed Valdemar’s taste requirements.

Right now, his stomach was hurting.

If the body of this lion tamer was any indication, they knew where Lucio could find himself a meal.

#the arcana #khleo the barhand #arcana albums: strength #arcana albums #count lucio #lucio #lucio the arcana #quaestor valdemar #valdemar #valdemar the arcana #montag morgasson #the arcana fic #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fanfiction #my writing #cw alcohol #cw blood mention #cw vampirism

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itstittycitybaby · 4 years

Text

A/N: thank you @darlingimmafangirl for this request! I really enjoyed writing it :)) also reader is semi pro equalist. not really but she can understand amon’s pov even though he took it to the extreme of things. curious about yall’s stance on amon’s whole revolution thing. feel free to flood my inbox about it ;))

You could hear the whispers and feel the stares. You weren’t ignorant; being the girlfriend of the beloved chief in Republic City caught a lot of attention. Lin Beifong wasn’t one to make friendships, let alone have a girlfriend. From bystanders eyes she was cold but determined. It was the age gap they whispered about.

Normally, the two of you would eat in after work. Lin was exahausted from the long days of her job. Something about more reports to file and sign (that’s what you got from her grumbling anyway). It had been another boring day at the studio and you wanted to go out. Your art was coming along great, but you were tired of being cooped up all day. Now, however, you regretted it.

Lin was older;her hair had grayed and the crows feet around her eyes told a story. However, she was still gorgeous with her green eyes as they glittered underneath the light of the booth the two of you sat at. She was incredibly strong both physically and mentally. Lin was in her early fifties, while you were in your mid twenties.

Your relationship was difficult to even start. Lin already had trouble with relationships as a whole, but to be with someone more than a decade younger than her? That was another problem in itself.

“You’re doing it again,” Lin murmured as she took a sip from her drink. “Hm?” “Thinking. Getting lost in your thoughts.” “Oh,” you replied softly, trying to forget about the waiter’s surprised expression after you squeezed Lin’s hand over the table. “Just...a bit nervous is all.” She shot a brow in response. “Everyone’s staring,” you mumbled, folding your hands into your lap. Lin hummed, “I suppose we make an odd couple.” “Doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking it off. “I’d rather be here with you.” She smiled softly, yet you could tell her gaze wavered. “You shouldn’t care so much about what everyone thinks,” she murmured, cutting her fork into her food. “I know,” you replied, “I just need to be here in the present.” “Atta girl.”

There was a ceremony for the avatar after Amon’s defeat. Your joints and limbs ached from protecting the people from the equalists. Even the fire in your blood weakened but Katara assured you you’d be back in no time. All the fighting and all the emotional drainage took a toll on you. Though, you couldn’t say much. At least you were fortunate enough to protect your bending. You sat at the bar of the ballroom, swinging your legs as you waited for Lin to join you. She had to stay with councilman Tenzin and Korra while the reporters flocked around them. The red dress clung to your figure tightly and stopped mid thigh. You swirled a wine glass absentmindedly, mulling over the past couple of months you had been through. The disappearance of Amon took a huge burden off of Korra and Lin, but you still couldn’t help but feel unhappy. Amon wanted everyone to be equal, and yes he took it to the extreme of things, but he strived for balance. He was right about the haughtiness in benders and how they carried themselves. Even you had trouble with the ego of bending. Even though Amon had escaped, your bones felt heavy. Something told you that he was dead. It didn’t matter anymore did it? “Mind if I buy you a drink?” Glancing over, a man around your age slid in the stool next to you. You raised a brow taking a sip before replying. “I’m fine thank you.”

“C’mon don’t be so uptight sweetheart.” You shot him a glare, your jaw clenched together. “I said. I’m fine.” The man snorted. His brown eyes glanced to your ears and his glance became curious. The gold earrings you wore twinkled in the light. They were an anniversary gift Lin had given you for occasions such as these. Two precious rubies dripped from each earring along with the necklace you wore.

“There you are.” The anger in your veins dissipated from the voice you’ve been waiting to hear all night. You smiled, turning to Lin. Sliding out of the barstool you sighed,“Finally, I’ve been waiting for a while now.” Lin hummed, “I was kept up by the reporters.” You giggled at the annoyance in her tone. She wanted to go home and rest while everyone else danced the night away. You couldn’t really blame her.

Glancing back, you noticed the man’s eyes bulging out of his head. He looked like a toad as he stared at that two of you. Lin’s eyes narrowed, holding his stare. “Is there a problem,” she snapped, crossing her arms. The man shook his head quickly, “N-no.” “Carry on then.” He turned quickly and you giggled as he stared down into his drink.

He muttered the words “gold digger” as the two of you left the bar.

“You’re dating?” Lin could feel the headache already starting to form. For god’s sake the two of you just got here. “Yes, we’re dating,” Lin confirmed, albeit a bit harshly. Tenzin’s brows raised in surprise while his kids squawked around him. Lin’s distaste for children didn’t lessen slightly. You stood next to her fumbling over your words and twiddling with your fingers. Your cheeks were pink in contrast to Lin’s tugging frown. ‘So much for secrecy,’ you thought. Tenzin gaped like a fish and closed his mouth. This proceeded to continue for several seconds until eventually he kept it shut. “Out with it,” Lin huffed. Her posture was rigid and she seethed with anger. It was supposed to be a nice picnic with just the two of you. Tenzin and his family seemed to have other plans, however. “I-I’m not trying to be rude,” he sputtered. “But Lin you’re definitely much older.” These types of conversations were nothing new. However, Lin seemed to be very upset. “Councilman Tenzin,” you murmured sharply, “With all do respect, it is none of your business.” He deflated at your response. You were known for keeping your cool, going against the stigma of firebenders. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my girlfriend and I will be going home. Have a lovely day.” Grabbing the supplies you and Lin trekked back home.

Lin groaned as she flopped on the couch. The picnic’s failure soured her mood. “It seems like we can’t go anywhere these days,” she grumbled. “I take one day off from work.” You sighed as you finished putting away the uneaten packed food. “I know dear, I know.”

Lin huffed in reply. “Getting called a gold digger, or being told “I could take care of you soooo much better” gets really tiring after awhile,” you said through gritted teeth. Lin’s eyes softened. Slowly she made her way into the kitchen where you unpacked the basket. “I didn’t know you were being called that.” You sighed, “It’s fine really, I shouldn’t let it get to me.” Her hand gently grasped your arm. “It’s not fine, you should have told me.” “I know,” you muttered, turning to face her, “but every time I commented about it, it seemed to make you feel bad.”

Lin’s hands grasped your cheeks softly. She gently kissed your lips. “They’ll get used to it,” you said once you both pulled away. “I’m sorry if I made you upset.” Her brows furrowed. “What?” “Yknow, how I handled Tenzin. I didn’t mean to blow up like that. But I guess that’s what’s expected, being a firebender and all. You chuckled humorlessly. Lin laughed, “You handled it perfectly. It was rude to comment on it.” “Besides,” Lin continued, “You’re the calmest firebender I’ve met. Better than that Mako guy.” You giggled as you wrapped your arms around her neck.

“He can be a pain,” you agreed. Lin’s arms wrapped around your lower back. “It’s hard with the stigma firebenders have. They think we’re all hot headed and destructive. “Nonsense my dear,” Lin replied, leaning down to kiss your head. “You’re the best damn one out there.” You grinned at her response. “And you’re the most hot headed earth bender Republic City’s ever seen.” Lin snorted, “Alright moments over.” You laughed, squeezing her tightly. “Ohhh come on Lin, you know it’s true.” She rolled her eyes and scoffed but you could see the smile on her lips.

#legend of korra #legend of korra x reader #legend of korra fanfic #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong

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jonah-aesthetic · 3 years

Text

That One Pt.1 I Jonah Marais

Jonah Marais X Reader / Ivette X Daniel Seavey

Plot: Since high school Jonah had a thing for y/n but never thought it was time for them. Now in college after a failed dare Jonah can’t help but throw himself into her life.

Word count: 6.4K

Author’s Note: This is nowhere near to finish so I’ve decided put them into parts. It’s has a lot of best friend content. A few POC characters, links to photos, and not much Jonah as I wanted there to be.

Rating: 16+

Part 2

-----------------------------------

The city was bursting with life and colour outside your favourite coffee shop. Vehicles slowly worked through the downtown traffic, many people weaved through the crowed sidewalks. The smell of coffee beans and baked goods was one of your calming scents, like honey or lavender.

Turning your head. The tall barista clad in a black shirt and a green apron made hos way to you. Holding your iced coffee and cookie in his hands, it was almost like you had a six sense for the beverage. You could feel the happiness start to spread to from your veins as if you could already taste it. You easy got bored on tastes if consumes often enough, but you know you could never get bored of this beverage.

“One Iced coffee, and a gingerbread cookie.” The barista’s soft brown eyes reached yours as he set both items on the table. “Thank you,” you said clutching both forms of happiness in my grasp. “Can I get you anything?” His question towards your Hispanic best friend sitting across from you. Ivette politely shook her head. “No, one coffee was enough for me. Thank you.” At her response I started at my third coffee.

“No problem, just give me a shout if you want another one.” you didn’t dare look at him, but you knew his eyes were on you as he said those words. “Don’t worry, she will. This one is a coffee whore.” the words were a playful attack.

“Ivette!” you warned,

“Those ones are a good flavour, aren’t they?” The barista, Trey as you read from his black name tag. Says before walking away.you threw a glare at her, “You know I’m studying for the up coming finals. asshole!”

“Oh come on! It was the perfect time to tease your tense ass. You’ve had that nose of yours in that text book all week end.” She shrugs her shoulders like she did you a favour.

“I know you don’t understand with that hefty trust fund of yours. But I can’t fail this, my entire future depends on it.” your voice soft when you explained it to her.

Her dark eyes shifted from yours to the table, her features softening. Silence washed over her bright laughable personality and you could felt the guilt rise. “I-I’m-you could always ask for financial help, we’ve been friends since Kinder.” Her voice softer now, she knew your dad always struggled with his work for years now. Yet sometimes she forgot, it was easy for her.

“I don’t wan’t to feel like a burden and you to feel like I’m only friends with you because of your family name.”

“why would I? especially when you’ve only asked for iced coffee and you always paid me back. Not to mention you still wear that apple watch I got you three years ago.” Glancing down at the smart watch circling your left wrist with a clean white band. She was right, Ivette just got you the newest version on your last birthday.

“This one holds valuable memories, like a relic.”

Ivette laughs “I’m sure it does, dork.”

Before you could say something you caught her eyes flick to something behind you. With a small twinkle in her eyes and a twitched of her lips you knew it was rather a somebody. “predator coming this way.” was all she whispered.

His Cologne wafted over you as you sense a masculine presence loom over you. almost Alpha male like, straight out of a fucking wattpad book you read last night. Finally looking up, your breath caught in your throat. You knew the male who was already staring down at you, a wolfish grin set to you like you were his next prey, his next target.

“Jonah” You acknowledged him,

“Y/N? Is it?” his voice deep as he slides in next to Ivette, letting out a yelp as he pushed her with his hip aside. Folded hands setting on the table top, fingers decorated with a couple rings. A leather jacket cover his squared shoulders, silk button down underneath. one or two buttons undone, caramel chest exposed. Bright determined green eyes locked on you, light brown curls framed his face perfectly.

“We have classes together.” The comment monotone.

“Right how could I forget.” The smile sly,

“You asked Marais, now continue.” Not a change in your tone as you stared back at him. Ivette choked out a cough and Jonah sent her an un-pleased glance.

“Anyways, my boys put a bet down.” His eyes switched behind you, following his gaze you say all four of them watching intensely. Sipping coffee as if this was their only entertainment.

“Not surprised.” you murmured under your breath, taking a sipping out of your coffee. Most of the sugar and cream washed out the original bitter taste of it. It was definitely an addiction, one you weren’t getting rid of soon as it calmed your nerves in the presence of him.

“For your number. a little immature if I do say so myself.” This one knew how to play his games, you’ll give me that. But you weren’t naive, never had been.

“No, thanks for the offer.” You voice condescending towards him. His expression slightly less predatory, You were getting to him.

“Interesting.” His eyes searching for any faltered emotion,

“The only thing that’s interesting is that you think you’re worth my time.” His wolfish smirk faltered, shock showed with surprised eyebrows.

“You don’t think I am?” His voice didn’t change.

“The only reason you interrupted us was because your little boys over there, dared you to get my number. But Knowing your reputation, that’s a waste of my time. Now will you excuse us we should be heading back.” Your voice sharp as you jabbed at him with each word.

“Damn your bite is brutal.” Jonah was amazed at the dish you served him.

“Only to the ones who deserve it.”

“I’ll see you around Y/N.” He winked , watching him get up you spoke again. “Oh and tell Jack I want his number.” You didn’t want it but you knew that would get under his skin. he only answered his a vicious glare and a growl.

Your eyes flicked back to Ivette, a proud smile upon her red lips. “That’s my girl, but dang that one is hot as hell. I would’ve caved, even if it’s just a quick fuck.” You laughed, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

---------------------------

Your focus set on the lecture in front of you, taking in all the information your professor was giving you. Tapping in notes on your beloved laptop, another gift from Ivette. Another one you had tried giving back multiple times, yet she had avoid you like the damn plague. Only making you fall into current and take yet another generous gift

Advanced English was one of your top classes, you’d let yourself lack every now and again. Not for too long but a big enough break to let yourself relax and light a candle.

The creaking sound boomed through the room as someone pushed open the door. Mr. Delton was use to the average late comer, not giving his attention as he taught the lecture in depth details on the subject at hand.

focus. focus.

Yet your eye caught a glimpse of milk chocolate curls, bouncing as he half jogged up the steps, light shift inside them making them lighter. He held his jet black mac book and an English text book in his arm. Wearing a white t-shirt rolled up at the sleeves a few inches. Revealing all the ink that scattered across his skin. Black jeans and browning converse at his feet. He was perfect save the acceptation of a purple bruise blossoming on his cheek right below his eye. And a red split through his bottom lip, Both going to get worse as the week continued.

Bruises that hadn’t been before.

Staring for a little too long he felt your prying eyes, his wolfish green eyes connected with yours. a flash of a smirk, you swore you saw him tear his cut before you forced your attention back on Mr. Delton.

You heard his every step from behind you, coming closer and closer. Now right behind you, hearing him take a seat. Dread entered your blood stream and you wished your heart to stop thumbing so fucking loud. Feeling embarrassed as if the student next to you could hear it.

a small hum from your phone arouse, you debated on it. The hovering presence of Jonah lurked stronger, yet you still fished it out.

Trey:Hey! was wondering if you wanted to get coffee after class?

Trey the barista from the cafe, the image of him popped into your mind. Dark chestnut skin, a beautiful contrast against your own skin tone. Mahogany coils framed his face, chocolate brown eyes. And those god blessed features.

You remembered how abruptly he stopped you as you and Ivette started for the exit. Giggling as he walked straight into a table and shattered a coffee mug in the process. He asked for your number, with a pink blush upon his cheeks. Genuinely surprised at the offer you gave it too him while you gave Jonah a glance. Green eyes threatening.

“The barista boy?” his breath fanning against your neck, making goosebumps rises and a shiver run down your spine. You’ve forgotten about that one with the slight distraction of Trey. Your phone slipped from your finger tips as you let out a loud yelp. Mr. Delton halts his lecture and the thud of your phone echos through the entire lecture hall.

Embarrassment flows through you again, sinking into your chair as every single person glares down at you. Swallowing hard as you felt your throat began to tighten. You knew you looked like a deer in headlight.

“She’s not feeling good, I told you to stay in your dorm today, Babe.” His voice loud enough for others to pry in. Bound to talk about you and Jonah later on, torturous gossip. you could already here it. You’d bite back and decline his words if you weren’t for this unfortunate situation.

Jumping over the chairs he helps you gather your things ushering you out. Everything in his arms both your belongings and his. You were beyond grateful that lecture was the reaching the end. As soon as the heavy door clicked your spun towards him, “What. The. Fuck!” Anger rippled from you in waves.

“What no thank you Jonah for saving me from embarrassment?” His tone mocking towards you, God! you swore you could slap that dumb smirking of his fucking face. Adding to his bruising face, he deserved it.

“You are so infuriating!” You yell, feeling it vibrate harshly against your throat.

“What can I say. I like playing with my food.” Fuck those green eyes. Fuck that stupid smirk.

“Fuck you!” was all you managed to say as if you could feel the stream burning off you. whirling away from him you continued down the wide hall of the university. If you stared at his taunting expression any longer you’d hit him.

“Come on! I’m not that bad.” Fake pouting like a child. Remembering he had a hold on your notes. You sighed whirling back around, heading back for him. Glaring Jonah down as you dragged the fire behind you, not a flicker in his demeanour. You swore his smirk grew as if he found amusement in your anger.

“You are, not to mention you put a target on my back. So thanks.” You say with a humorous smile on your lips. head slightly tilting as he furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed. You rolled your eyes at him, “You called me ‘babe’ as if we’re together..” you mimicking the motion of puking your breakfast out. He shook his head and chuckles. “..And if you haven’t notice you’re Jonah Marais, girls fall at your feet. Now they’re be slicing my head off.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yet you don’t” His eyes trailing from you head to toe trying to read your body language. The anger stopped abruptly as if his words were like a bucket of water.

“You’re hot..” His green eyes darken at the confession, his teeth biting his bottom lip. “.. but you treat girls like conquests and you just a waste of my time, Jonah.” Dark green becoming dull green, He watched as you reached from your laptop, supplies, and phone. Letting them slip from his grip as they fall into yours.

“If that’s what you think,” Were wrong about him? Or was he trying to bait you? Honesty with the genuine expression you didn’t know what you believed now.

“Bye, Jonah.” You say softly before leaving him there,

“I’ll see you around, babe.” Taunting again,

“Fuck you.” You raise your left are and flip him off,

“Only if you want too.” You roll your eyes at his response.

----------------------------------

With the pass few days your mind was drowning in piles of work. Still studying for those finals, they were coming faster then you had the time for. You were comfortable with the the amount of information cramped inside. Yet you still felt the need to be confident with the facts, as if you could teach the damn course yourself. There was no time for mistakes, not now.

Jonah Marais

There you were in the quad, sitting at a table far from everyone else. textbooks and random pages with notes on them splayed over the top. Not an inch on blue table insight. Phone on air plane mode as you listened to your trusted early 2000s playlist. vaguely bopping your head to the beat of the songs, mouthing the words, your foot tapping the cement.

Jack nudged Jonah with a tatted elbow, head whipped down to him. a noticeable scowl written on his face, not too happy to have his thought wonder from you. “What do you think shes listening to?” Words catching in his throat as he coughed “Who are you talking about?”

“The girl you’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes, I’m kinda shocked she hasn't felt you stalking her.” Jack’s brown eyes gleamed honey in the sunlight, a joking smirk upon his lips as he watched Jonah stutter, “I-I wasn’t.” He tried sounding convincing, but the taunting look on his best friend’s face told him otherwise.

“I’ve never seen a girl get under his skin the way Y/L/N does,” Daniel pipes in taking a seat in the grass with his beloved guitar.

“I’ve never seen him get humiliated like that. Was a treat watching you get rejected in a cafe.” Little Zach chimed in, cackling like a hyena.

“Enough!” Jonah barked out, turning a few prying eyes.

“Awe is Jonah getting mad that we’re teasing him about the girl he’s been pining after of years? Poor thing.” Corbyn’s voice is very condescending towards him. Sending All the guys into a full blown laughing fit. Jonah only glared at his band mates, of course they knew about y/n. The only girl who has never fell at his feet.

They went to high school together, never colliding groups through the years. Back then Jonah had every girl he wanted. Until one day in junior year he saw her, Actually saw her. At the time he didn’t know your name, she wasn’t one who cheered at band gigs. Wasn’t one to catch him in the halls and ask if he had any plans for the night. Jonah would remember a face like that, trust me.

He admired you through the art room’s door, open ajar. An old paint brush in your hand, chipping black paint on the handle of it, years of use wearing down on it. A palette of colours resting in your other as your focus was deeply upon the canvas. A lion roaring with immense detail laid upon it. Anyone looking at it could tell that lion wasn’t roaring out of fear or grief, but pride. The roar of the king, he was memorised by how in depth her detailing was.

Sliding through the door like a mouse, his attention went to the board. Spirit animal was written for this weeks assignment. Jonah was intrigued by you and your spirit animal. You had to think of yourself as a lion for a reason and he wanted to find it.That lion.

Glancing towards you he drank you in, from your soft hair to your wore in vans. Lost in the painting, you never felt his hovering presence. Taking a step towards you he halting, this wasn’t the time for her. he could feel himself saying deep down. She’s a lion, you’re not ready for her not yet. With that he slipped back out into the hallway.

He started noticing her more as if she was a ghost before spotting the lion. Never talking to her but watching from afar.

“Let’s rehearse, that’s what we came her for.” Jack says, Jonah felt relieved at that taking his seat in the grass. He was playing a dangerous game with his heart. Jonah knew that but he wanted her, but he didn't know how to make y/n his. A struggle he wasn’t familiar with, she was something else entirely.

“Let’s start with Lotus In.” Daniel says, starting with one of their newer songs. Attention on the guitar in his lap he began, fingers dancing with strings like they belonged there. Jack took in a breath before letting the lyrics flow from his lips.

Y/N

Jonah glanced over towards to you again, wondering when Ivette and her pack of Richies swarmed you. A ghost of a smile on your lips as you continued your conversation with her.

“Tell me you’re coming to the party this weekend.” Ivette’s voice drowning in sugar, knowing there was a high chance you were going to decline. “I just have a lot of things to do, like study and cram in some sleep.” You whined at her as if you were a injured puppy.

“Come on girl! you’ve been studying your soul away.” Julie, one of Ivette’s friends spoke up. Her voice soft as silk when talking to you like you were some seven year old. you fought the urge to roll your eyes an sigh at her, all of Ivette’s more fortunate friend treated you in this manner. You never brought it up because you knew she loved the company of them.

“There’s this dress in my closet I don’t wear anyone, it’s last season.” Julie offers, Irritating boils in your blood as you saw the pity ooze out of her like you were some charity case.

“ I was thinking about going shopping for one instead.” The words spill out of your mouth before you could think. You didn’t have the money to splurge on a dress at the moment. But you felt the need to prove yourself to her, to prove you were one of them. One who could spent a grand or two in a day without trouble. But you Weren’t one of them.

“I got you a gift, Actually.” Ivette cuts through the conversation like a knife. Placing a chunky box atop the table over your textbooks and notes. You look at her seeing a knowing glint in her eyes, she knew. She knew that you struggled in her world with her parents and her friends.

“You didn’t have to.” You say to her,

“Stop being so modest, open it.” Julie urges you, it took everything in you to not reach over the table and smack her. Engaging in a conversation with her was like talking to a chihuahua. A Beverly Hills Chihuahua.

A small reassurance from Ivette you began to remove the lid of the black box. Revealing crisp white tissue paper, spotting a vague green colour underneath. Picking various pieces out your eyes gazed upon a gorgeous forest green silk dress. Grasping it in your fingers you were mesmerised by it, lifting it up you saw it in all it’s glory.

“Wow, I think I’m in love with it.” You spoke,

“Me too, where did you get it?” Julie pipes in, gazing at the dress as if it was hers. It was a split between casual and formal, short and body-con-like. an open back with the straps criss crossing over and tying in the front.

“You wouldn’t of heard of it, it’s main stream.” Was all Ivette said watching you adore the dress in your hands,

“Are you coming to the party now?” Julie’s voice still sickly sweet,

“With a gift like this? yes absolutely.” A smirk etched onto your lips still in love with the dress. Ivette scanned Julie’s expression an noticeable sneer reaching towards you. She tried covering it with a grim smile, attempting to keep the jealousy at bay.

“Jonah is going to love that dress.” Ivette squeals, you drop it at the mention of his name. You praised to the gods you kept your emotions in check. Wanting to play along with Ivette and her game with Julie, “I’m sure he will. It’ll match his eyes perfectly.” you chime in finally, glancing over at Julie who could no longer keep her expressions at bay.

---------

Ivette began to slid the key into her door. Click. Turning the knob she opened the door revealing her generous apartment. Guiding you in, your hands holding the box that contained the dress she gifted you. A life saver against Julie and her lifestyle.

She throw her keys on the counter and they landed on the floor with a clang. “I saw the way Julie got under your skin, you had this uncomfortable look settle in your face.” Ivette says, jumping onto her couch with an exaggerated sigh. Taking it in like she hasn’t been there in five whole days.

“I’m-it’s just Julie talks to me like I’m some little kid, or your younger sister.” I say sitting on her wooden coffee to face her, connecting eyes she looks lost. Like you said your dog ran away. You don’t have a dog.

“Where’s all this coming from?” Propping herself on her elbow, concern etching her features. You shrug looking away at your feet, “Forget it, um. Where did you actually get the dress?” You ask not ready to say what you wanted to, knowing Ivette she’d run to the ends of the earth for you. God knows what she’d do to Julie and Julie was her friend.

“Okay, we’ll set it aside.Talk about it late.” Her voice soft and calming. you were grateful for her understanding, she never pushed and waited till you were ready.

Looking at her with gratitude, reaching her hand for yours she squeezed. Comforting warm pressure against your skin. Growing up with no siblings and only having Ivette as your best friend almost felt like having a sister.

“It’s thrifted fifteen dollars,” Ivette beams,

“Okay I’ll take it.” You say in return,

“I know how you hate my expensive gifts. Even though I’ve been giving them for years. I love gifting them to you because you appreciate everything I give you, you even try to give them back.” Ivette lets a giggle slip past her lips,

You hug her, arms wrapping around her neck like your life depended on it. Instantly she did the same taking you into her embrace. “I Just don’t want to feel like a burden.” You whisper into her shoulder,

“You’re not and you’ll never be, You’re my best friend.” She hugs you tighter to her body.

“I love you Ivette.” A warm smile spreads across your lips,

“I love you too, now lets get you into that dress before you make me cry.” Her voice strained knowing she felt the same, “Okay.” You say before both of you started giggling.

Letting go you hopped off the couch grasping the box in your hands. “I’m really grateful for the dress.” You say looking down at her, smiles reaching your ears.

“Stop, just stop. Go put on the dress and I’ll pick out a pair of heels.” She shushes your constant, pushing you towards her bathroom.

The dress was gorgeous by itself, but on you it was phenomenal. Silky green fabric pooling around your upper thighs, hugging your body in all the right places.The lacing in the back was complicated but you eventually got the hang of it. Tying it in the front, at least that’s how you thought it was suppose to go. If it wasn’t it still managed to look better this way.

Walking out of the bathroom you heard an intake of breath. “God that dress is a girls dream.” Ivette beamed at you with the brightest smile. Feeling a blush creep up your neck you spotted a pair of heels in her hand. As well as a gold necklace dangle between her finger tips.

“I’m in love with it.” You admit with a dreamy sigh.

“Jonah will love it as well.” She teases, handing me the shoes and a few pieces of jewellery. Grasping them you sigh, “Can you just let that go, it happened almost a week ago. Plus I asked Trey to meet me at the party.” You inform her, taking a seat on her bed and began to fasten the heels’ strap onto your ankle.

The heels were black and velvet with a chunky heel, barely having any foot coverage. Only having a thick band over your black toe nails and a strap around your ankle. You didn’t dare ask where they were from in risk of giving them back. You were working on that right now.

“The hot barista with Delicious chocolate skin?” Ivette basically melted speaking about him, letting out a giggle you nodded. “God you’re so lucky, he’s fine as fuck.”

“I know I saw him,” you said pride embedded in my tone, collecting the dainty butterfly necklace in my hands. Struggling to get in to clasp, a few tries before I got it. Matching dangle gold earrings, which were easy enough to not mess up.

-------------------------------

Ivette’s car was wrapped in rose gold crome and was apparently a bitch to keep crisp and clean. Pulling open the passenger’s door you slid in, wasn't too long before the vehicle roar to life. Music pounding into your back with the windows rolled down. This was a party not a wedding so you both never bothered with intense makeup, leaving your hair like it was.

“I told Julie we weren’t going cause you came down with the chicken pox.” Ivette said turning the music down, you whipped your head towards her. “You do realised we just saw her less then five hours ago right?” A laugh vibrates in your throat.

“She fucked with my best friend, you think I’m just going to stand by? Absolutely not!”

“She’ll be there.” I stated looking at her, raven black hair tangling in her silver hoops. A devious smirk spreads on her red lips, “Oh I know,” You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully at her. She only laughs in response.

-------------

The stench of alcohol, nicotine and sweat has entered your nose almost making you sneeze. Party in full swing, music so loud you swore you saw the floor boards lift up. Taking a step back you thought of hailing a cab and studying for the night. Hand grabbing your arm, you look to Ivette. “It’s time you enjoy yourself, those books aren’t going anywhere.” She speaks into your ear making sure you heard every word. You sigh in defeat she was right, you let her drag you into the night you will definitely regret.

Dragging you through sweaty an intoxicated people, mustering up apologies along the way. Reaching one colossal of a kitchen, a massive house like this was mostly definitely a fraternity house. There was always this pristine a polished look of them, but this one was familiar. One you’ve been to many times before for weekend parties.

It belonged to Jonah’s band, they liked to call themselves Why Don’t We. As in why don’t we just start a band, you’ve heard the story many times. Ivette had an on and off relationship with their drummer Daniel Seavey. You had nothing against him, Daniel was a rare stallion with the heart of a golden retriever. Ivette was always the one to pull away from him scared of giving her entire self to him. He was a drummer after all.

“Babes what beverage is to your calling tonight?” Her voice soft against the shell of your ear. Glancing at the island prepared with every alcoholic drink you could think of. “Surprise me.” You respond with a soft smile on your lips, “The moment I’ve waiting for.” She teases separating from you to craft your drinks. Giving you the prefect opportunity to check if you received a text from Trey.

You hadn’t.

Anxiety starting to arise, where was he?

“Where’s your boy at?” Ivette brushed into you holding that playfulness towards you. Shrugging you shoved your phone into your dainty purse, “I don’t think he’s coming.” voice crumbling, well you didn’t know for sure if he was coming or not. But it was well over an hour when you were suppose to meet. And there was not a single message from him.

“Here mama drink up.” Ivette places a lime green cup into your hand, the colour coding for single. Tapping cups together in a cheers she counted down “1..2...10″ you rolled my eyes as Ivette skipped eight full numbers. Pulling the pink cup to her lips, taken. Which usually meant she was talking to Daniel again. She chugged the contents.

You followed, it was bitter. Burning along your throat as you gulped every last drop of it. The percentage was most likely 60 vodka and 40 coca cola. Your alcohol tolerance wasn’t weak but it definitely wasn't strong either. Taking the cup from your lips you coughed. “How was it?” Ivette asks with hopeful puppy dog eyes. You shook your head at her, “I’m never letting you pick again.”

“Perfect! now it’s time to dance.”

You barely had time to put the plastic cup down, before she was yanking you to the massive den. Into the heart of the party where the music was the loudest and most of the people had been. Cluttering together as if there wasn’t enough space for everyone.

Your mindset switched as soon you had a taste of the liquor, enjoying every moment as if you did this often. Hand in hand with Ivette as you danced together, bodies close together Feeling the music flow through you as if it was in your blood. Singing the lyrics of an older 2000s song that you knew like the back of your hand.

Jonah Marais

Music vibrated the walls almost shaking the frames off. Jonah leaned against the railing on the upper level of the house. Having full view of y/n tangled in Ivette Daniel’s girl. Sweat gleamed over her chest as red, blue, purple. yellow, and green lights flashed throughout the house. A blissful smile on her lips and hair plastering her skin. Unquestionably intoxicated by the alcohol she was given. He rarely got to see her like this and began to enjoy the sight of such a gorgeous girl.

Feeling the presence of a feminine shadow he never took his eye off her. Pressing into him he sighed looking at her, hazel eyes sizing him up. “Hey Jo.” She purred, “Jasmine.” He greeted her in a bored tone she never detected.

Jasmine was one of the many girls he got lost in through his time here. Jonah knew her body as if he saw it every day. He knew what pleased her and what didn’t, her save words and breaking points. But he didn’t know Jasmine not the way he wanted to know y/n. All Jonah knew was her body and he was getting bored of it.

“You said you’d be mine for the night.” He voice seductive and slightly pleading,

“I say a lot of things.” Tone still bored hoping to brush her off.

“Yes you do.” She hums and begins to press her body into his, feeling every curve of her. Breasts, stomach, hips, and the pulse of her core. Didn’t take too long before her kiss reached his neck. Soft and slow thinking this would release the beast within. Hold her against the wall, bodies pressed together. Instead Jonah shivered in disgust as her hands reached for his belt teasingly.

“Jasmine, this is a party not your sex chamber.” Daniel’s voice dripping in authority causing her pull away as if Jonah burned her. Relieve washed over him, eyes still on y/n as she grinds against Ivette. Her hands firmly holding her waist, acrylic nails embedded in the green dress. He began to wonder what that view would look like on him instead.

“Cock block often?” Jasmine scowled at Daniel,

“Think of it more as a rescue.” Daniel’s voice plain also bored with the girl in front of him.

“It’s okay to be jealous.” Jasmine purrs again. Can this chick take a hint? Or do I have to form words to make her leave?

“Not tonight, if you’ll excuse us we have some band issues to discuss.” It was a quick excuse to get rid of her. It worked as she said a quick bye to Jonah who ignored Jasmine. Hearing her storm down the hall in her heels that clicked behind her.

“I have no idea why you keep that one around.” Daniel sighs taking the abandoned spot beside Jonah. Elbow leaning against the banister supporting the rest of his body. “I don’t, she crawls back like a wounded deer.” Jonah replies not caring the way he talked about her.

“Yet here you are still fucking her.” Daniel bites at him not liking the way Jonah drowned himself when things got hard.

“On occasion.”

“That’s even worse,”

Jonah looked at his drummer, between the twinkle in his icy blue eyes and Ivette’s blush pink cup. He knew they were talking again, she had this effect on him that no other girl did. “I have a plan and I need your help.” I devious smirk plays onto Jonah’s lips.

Y/N

Your skin glistening with sweat, the adrenaline in your veins overlapping the pain in the core of your feet. Friction of the straps began to form open wounds, yet you didn’t notice in the bliss of the night. Smiling like an idiot as your body danced with Ivette’s, your best friend.

“We should take a break.” Her voice strained,

You nod, not wanting to sound like a dying cat with your sore throat.

“Okay good, because i’m exhausted, I don’t know how you do it!” She shouts taking your hand in hers, guiding you away from the crowed bunch.

“The alcohol seeping through my bloodstream.” Your tone in a duh manner like it was the most obvious thing in the worlds. Feeling the way the liquor took effect on your mindset, little hazy yet blissful and happy.

“Lets get some water in you. okay?” Ivette’s voice holding concern, brushing your hair back like an older sister. “Yes mom.” you sigh sarcastically, with that both of you are off to the kitchen.

Littering with a couple people not as much as the den. Talking and laughing, enjoying each other’s company. Making the memories they’ll have keep until they don’t want to.

Again Ivette hands you a lime green cup, but this time the substance in side wasn’t brown. But transparent with no wrenched stench this time, water. “Drink up, babes.” Ivette says, bringing her own pink cup to her lips. Hers contain the fizz sound of her favourite pop, Root Beer.

“What would I do without you?” You ask feeling the adrenaline fade from your body. The feeling of complete blissful ecstasy drain to a more content happiness.

“You’d most def--”

“Ivette.” Her name rolled off his tongue like a purr, like it was meant for his lips. Cutting or conversation quick she whirled around at the sound of his voice. Her breath shuttering at the sight of him.

Daniel stood in from of her in all his proud glory, his blue eyes fixed on her and only her. They smiled at one another, his cupid’s bow extending. “Daniel.” She acknowledged him. Glancing at me she widened her eyes for quick second trying to keep herself together. Blue eyes shifting he tilted his head at you, “Hope you were having a good time.”

“I was, thank you Daniel.” you say to him before finally taking a sip of your water. Cold sliding down your throat the perfect refreshment after the hour in the den.

“Always, y/n.” his voice smooth as he averts his attention back on Ivette. “Got time to spare me a dance?” Daniel extends his hand towards her, waiting for the acceptation.

“Sorry, Daniel but I’m y/n’s ride.” Both flicked to you at the excuse she put on the table. You gave he a tight lipped smile not saying a word but you knew she got the message you wanted to get across.

“I know that’s why I have Jonah, he’ll drive y/n when she’s ready.” Daniel threw a thumb behind him. Looking past Daniel you spotted him, Jonah leaned against the counter across the kitchen. Wolfish grin on his lips as he was sipping out of a lime green cup. It couldn’t of been Corbyn could it? No, cause that would be to much to ask for.

Connecting eyes with Ivette, you saw pleased in the browns of her eyes. Not for you to let Daniel take her but to say you didn’t feel comfortable with Jonah. You remembered the times she was completely and utterly happy with him. Saying that he was it, he was home. He was this amazing person for her but she was fucking scared.

You mentally apologised to her before saying anything, “She’s yours, I’ll be fine. Daniel trusts him, I trust him.” You forced the words to sound normal for his sake. Deep down you wanted to puke for saying those words, but it was for Ivette. “He’s a good person, he’ll get you home in one piece.” Daniel says before whisking your best friend from sight.

“I’ll get you back of this.” You swore you heard Ivette seethe, nonetheless you smiled after them. Wasn’t too long before you felt his presence loom behind you. Great here we go, it was a risk worth taking at least that’s what you told yourself.

“Hey, Babe.”

----------------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this piece.

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Don’t be afraid to message me if anything offended you with my POC characters. This is a safe space for everyone and I want to make it right!

Taglist: @jonahlovescoffee

#jonah aesthetic #Jonah marais #Jonah marais imagines #Jonah marais fics #wdw #wdw imagines #wdw fics #why don’t we #why don’t we imagines #why don’t we fic #Daniel seavey #corbyn besson #zach herron #jack avery #wdw x reader #why don’t we x reader #Jonah marais x reader #🐆

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feralnumberfive · 3 years

Text

TUA Season 3 Wishlist

Hello everyone! Since Season 3 was announced to start filming in February of 2021, I thought that it would be fun to make a wishlist of songs that anyone would like to see in the new season. I'm quite passionate about music and often think of songs that I personally believe would fit the show well. I know a lot of others do this too and thought that it would be fun to share our beloved songs with the fandom!

Guidelines/Information

You may submit as many songs as you want!

You may submit them to my ask box or send me a message (I don’t bite!)

You may request not to have your username by your song(s) but if not I your username will be attached to your song(s). | Ex. “Help!” by The Beatles @feralnumberfive OR “Help!” by The Beatles “Anonymous”

The songs don’t have to be by the original artist. If you’re submitting a special version or cover of the song, please specify that

Feel free to attach scenarios for your song(s)! They can be as brief or as detailed as you want them to be, but please try to keep it to one paragraph or less for your explanation | Ex. “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance ((Scenario: Five killing tons of enemies. He’s gone mad with anger and glee. The horror of those being slaughtered, seemingly by a teenager)) |

Some lyrics really hit hard, y’know? Similar to the scenario guideline, feel free to submit a song and lyrics from that song that you think would match a character/specific scenario | Ex. “Evil Woman” by Electric Light Orchestra (I think the lyrics, Evil woman how you done me wrong, but now you’re tryin’ to wail a different song, would match Diego’s mixed feelings on Lila if she returns in S3)

It’s not required that you have a scenario/lyrics with your submitted song(s), so no pressure! Some songs just give off good vibes that fit with the atmosphere of the show. You can even submit songs and simply say (This gives off “Character name” vibes)

You can even just name a band! Some bands have tons of bangers that just match the vibes of TUA or of a TUA character

The scenarios don’t have to be serious, they can be odd or fun!

If a song is requested more than once, I will add the amount of times it was requested in parenthesis next to it

If you see a song on the list that you really like, you can send (+1 for “insert song title here”) and I will add a tally to it

If you see a song on here that does or does not have scenario/lyric(s) and you think “Oh yeah I can imagine a scenario/lyric(s) for this!” go ahead and speak up! If requested, I will add your username to the scenario you created. If you’re not comfortable with having your username next to your scenario, I will simply put you as “Anonymous.” Same thing with the username and “Anonymous” if you want to tack on that a song gives “Character name” vibes | Ex. Song by Artist “username of person who submitted it” (Scenario: blah blah blah) || (Scenario: blah blah blah) by “username” || (Scenario: blah blah blah) by “Anonymous” || (Lyrics: blah blah blah) by “Anonymous” || (This song gives of “Character name” vibes) by “username” |

This will be open until the Season 3 Soundtrack is released (It will be fun to see if any of the songs in this wishlist are actually on the official S3 soundtrack!)

The guidelines will be updated as the wishlist progresses. Most of the time I won’t reply to the song requests sent through my ask box, but I certainly will add your requested song(s) to the list. If you see that I haven’t added your song(s) after updating the wishlist, please reach out to me. Don’t be afraid to ask me any questions!

Here’s the Playlist created from the Wishlist

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QRajb4Nap3hjjs2KcWQYc

Wishlist

Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! by ABBA @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Five rescuing his siblings))

Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles @feralnumberfive ((This song gives off Vanya vibes))

Rich Kids by New Medicine @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: The Hargreeves arrive in 2019 to find that they have been replaced. The Sparrow Academy quickly springs into action and attacks The Umbrella Academy))

Lonely by Palaye Royale @feralnumberfive ((Lyrics: | So sick and tired of being alone, so long, farewell, I’m on my own | I feel like these lyrics represent Klaus feeling alone due to his siblings ignoring him and him being a living person haunted by ghosts)) by @feralnumberfive

Toxic by Britney Spears “Anonymous” ((Scenario: When they are all talking about Reggie))

girls by girl in red “Anonymous” ((Scenario: When Vanya is talking/thinking about Sissy))

WAP by Cardi B “Anonymous”

Manic Monday by The Bangles “Anonymous” ((Because 4/1/2019 and 11/25/1963 were both Mondays, so the s3 apocalypse should be too))

Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington Jr. @feralnumberfive

Teenagers by My Chemical Romance @feralnumberfive | but really everyone in the UA fandom wants this | ((Scenario: Any fight scene with Five going ham))

Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears For Fears @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Something sad))

Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: The siblings get into deepshit™ and have to fight their way out of it))

Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Evil/Sparrow Five returns back to his family or Five struggles with his killer urges and impulses from his killer DNA))

Bit by Bit by Mother Mother @feralnumberfive

Lay Me Down by The Oh Hellos “Anonymous” ((Lyrics perfectly fit Five: “Fire and brimstone fell upon my ears, as their throats of open graves recited fear, like the bullets of a gun they drove my tears, and my feet to run the hell out of here”//“I was born a restless wayward child”//“I owe it to my brothers to carry them home”))

Vampire Money by My Chemical Romance "Anonymous" ((Gives off Klaus vibes))

Arms Tonite by Mother Mother @burnyouwithacigarettelighter ((Lyrics: | I died in your arms tonight, I slipped through into the afterlife, | Would totally fit anything to do with Ben’s death))

Oh Ana by Mother Mother @burnyouwithacigarettelighter ((Scenario: Any scene with Five just generally being a badass and/or the rest of the siblings!!))

Black Sheep by Metric “Anonymous” ((Lyrics | Our common goal was waiting for the world to end, now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend you crack the whip, shapeshift and trick, the past again, | Which is SO five and anything about the commission or the apocalypse OR | I’ll send you my love on the wire, lift you up every time, everyone pulls away, from you,” | For luther/the siblings perspective on him.))

Everybody’s Gotta Live by Love @feralnumberfive ((Gives off Five vibes and also a bit of the siblings in general))

I’m Gonna Win by Rob Cantor @feralnumberfive ((All of the lyrics match Five so well))

Running In The 90's by Max Coveri/Maurizio De Jorio @latinofireball ((Scenario: For an Umbrella and/or Sparrow family dance))

The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance @fandoms-or-life ((Scenario: Group fight))

Hayloft by Mother Mother @bi-ginny-weasley ((Gives off Five vibes and would be great in a fight sequence))

bad idea! by girl in red @pr-ingles

Silver Lake Queen by Diplomacy @purplegrapefruit ((Scenario: Any woman-being-badass moment, bonus if it's all the girls and Klaus))

Blackbird by The Beatles (accidentally replied without getting your name, sorry about that feel free to reach out to me again :[ ) ((Scenario: I am really intrigued by the Sparrow in the comics who could turn into a flock of crows. I think Blackbird could be a good song for her. Especially since its about the yearning to be free which I think will come to pass with at least some of the Sparrow Academy members. It could be played in a moment when she is considering how trapped she and her team/siblings are under Reginald))

Cold Cold Cold by Cage The Elephant “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Maybe for a fight scene or the end of an episode when everything has gone tits up))

Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood @b99detectivealpaca ((Scenario: Anything related to Reginald))

Footloose by Kenny Loggins “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Dance scene that will inevitably happen))

Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Also for the dance scene that will inevitably happen))

Rät by Penelope Scott @sukker-sugar ((Scenario: Sth related to reggie, and specifically with the lyrics | Experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good | They taught me everything just like a daddy should |))

Time Warp (Cover from CAOS Soundtrack) by Ross Lynch, Jaz Sinclair, Lachlan Watson, and Jonathan Whitesell @theladyfae ((Scenario: A random scene in a club where everyone's dancing to it but then it cuts to the siblings fighting against multiple enemies))

Waiting For The World To End by Mother Mother @feralnumberfive ((Gives off Five vibes and the lyrics match him so well))

1983 by Neon Trees "Anonymous" ((Just gives off Season 3 vibes))

Skyfall by Adele @fudgemutt ((Scenario: For when the whole Umbrella family comes together and works as one, and specifically the lyrics | Let the sky fall, When it crumbles, We will stand tall, Face it all together, At Skyfall | ))

Dirty by Grandson @fudgemutt ((Scenario: An epic Five fight scene, and specifically the lyrics | Do you have enough love in your heart, to go and get your hands dirty? | ))

The Day Before You Came by ABBA "Anonymous"

Tiger by Abba @notmireelname

Tropical Loveland by ABBA @notmireelname

Twisted by Missio @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Give loses his goddamn mind))

Heart Of Glass (Cover by Miley Cyrus) originally by Blondie @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Five losing his mind and thinking about his family or something to do with Klaus cause it gives off Klaus vibes))

Without Me by Alec Chambers “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Five finally snaps at his family after they continuously blame him for their problems))

Something’s Gotta Give by All Time Low @enjoltairesimp ((Scenario: A badass fight scene, preferably one that includes Diego))

Any songs created by Mother Mother (not a song, just a statement) @enjoltairesimp because it would be amazing

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds by The Beatles @enjoltairesimp ((Scenario: A reunion scene with Klaus and Dave))

Music Of The Night by Andrew Lloyd Webber (either version from the Musical or Movie) @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Five either turning to the dark side or being convinced to do something "bad"))

A Good Song Never Dies by Saint Motel @life-needs-abit-of-madness ((Vibe of the song is so good))

Hotel California by Eagles Everyone in the UA fandom ((What else do we need to say? S3 will match Vol. 3 Hotel Oblivion of the comics. It's an absolute killer bop that needs to be in S3))

Cold Cold Man by Saint Motel @life-needs-abit-of-madness

La Jolla by Wilbur Soot @sukker-sugar ((Scenario: Either someone dies (but like klaus in s1, they get resurrected) and we see this in the background while they talk to god, or we see the siblings lounging around and talking about what they'd do after the shenanigans™ are over with that in the background ))

When I'm Sixty Four by The Beatles @feralnumberfive ((Something with Five))

Just A Girl by No Doubt @feralnumberfive ((A badass scene of any girl character fighting//bonus if it's Allison or Vanya since they're the only two girls in the Umbrellas))

You're The Devil In Disguise by Elvis Presley @life-needs-abit-of-madness ((Scenario: A fight scene))

You Don't Own Me by SAYGRACE @give-the-boy-a-hug ((Scenario: Someone's walking away after a fight))

Ballroom Blitz by Sweet @feralnumberfive ((This would be soooo good for a fight scene with dancing or a fight scene in general))

Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In! By Will Wood and the Tapeworms @feralnumberfive ((Would be awesome for a fight scene))

My Generation by The Who @feralnumberfive ((Another fun song for a fight scene))

Hopelessly Devoted To You by Olivia Newton-John @feralnumberfive ((Either the siblings' or just Luther's feelings towards Reginald))

You’re The Best by Joe Esposito @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Either Luther, Diego, or even the whole family having some sort of montage of overcoming their issues))

Rumor Has It - Adele @alex-mercerss ((because what better song for Allison to have playing for it, plus I’ve seen it mentioned a few times somewhere))

Show Me How to Move - The Elwins @alex-mercerss ((this is such a fight scene song no matter where you put it))

Really anything off of Let Live and Let Ghosts by Jukebox the Ghost @alex-mercerss ((half of this album was literally written about the apocalypse))

2econd 2ight 2eer by Will Wood and the Tapeworms @feralnumberfive ((Could absolutely imagine Five losing control and killing to this song))

As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese “Anonymous” (( I think it would be good where five is having a flash back to the apocalypse or he sees his family die but he cant do anything bc the cube is making his fear come out therefore it is just a hallucination))

I Heard A Rumor by Bananarama @uuhhhhwhat ((Scenario: A scene where Allison is sad and thinking about Ray and/or Claire))

There's a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought of It Yet by Panic! At The Disco "Anonymous" ((Scenario: A Five fight scene))

Are You Satisfied by MARINA "Anonymous" ((could work for anything Luther related because the lyrics describe him so well))

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua s3 #tua s3 soundtrack wishlist #music #tua music #tua soundtrack

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lady-o-ren · 3 years

Text

THE HUNGER OF MY HEART

//PROLOGUE// //PART ONE// PART TWO

PART THREE

For easier reading here’s the link for ao3 (X)

Jamie stepped into the Lallybroch stables and whistled melodically through his teeth. A wide-browed grey horse poked his head out from the corner stall, hitching his ears forward as he blew excitedly through his nostrils.

"Cobhar, ciamar a tha thu?" Said Jamie fondly, firmly patting the long dappled neck of the horse and scratching behind his ears. "Di' ye miss me, my wee laddie?"

Nothing was wee about Cobhar. He was a good-tempered, but spirited 14-hand gelding that had been the first foal that Jamie's father let him care for when he was a lad, still mourning his mother and needing distraction.

Cobhar's big head came down and mouthed affectionately at Jamie's curls then cheeks in greeting, as he always had done, then descended down to his knuckles, eager for the sweet treat he could smell hiding in his palm.

"Och, ye miss being spoilt is all then? Didn'a think of me once while I was gone, di' ye?"

Cobhar huffed impatiently and nudged his head against Jamie's chest, nibbling at the buttons, while swishing his dirt-blonde tail side to side.

"A'right, laddie," Jamie chuckled, patting him again. "Here ye go. No need to knock me over." The stallion's soft velvet lips plucked the whole apple from out his opened palm and devoured it in one loud and juicy crunch.

"Fattening auld Cobhar a'ready, Jamie?"

Jamie grinned ear to ear as he looked aside to see his best friend, and now brother-in-law, Ian, amble up beside him. He was tall and whipcord lean and strong, with an honest, good-natured face about him that had captured his sister, Jenny's heart when they were naught but bairns.

"Ye're one to talk, Ian. My sister didn'a get big as a house on her own, di' she?"

Face a rich blush, Ian laughed and bashfully scratched his nose, crooked from when Jamie broke it years before, having found him and Jenny in the most compromising of ways.

"Still a wee shite, Fraser. And still redder than a roosters arse," said Ian, as he playfully smacked the back of Jamie's head.

As had everyone else in the family since he arrived back home. His uncle's, aunties and brutally by his beloved godfather, Murtagh, for being away from Lallybroch for so long. But the real blackening had come from Jenny, a feat for a pregnant woman who had once been no bigger than his thumb. Thank Christ, he had a skull made of solid stone (though as predicted she had embraced soon after and kissed him more than what was decent for a sister to).

Rubbing the multitude of throbbing black and blue bumps on his head (but after having given Ian a hard punch to his shoulder), Jamie spotted what looked to be an envelope under his brother-in-law's arm.

"Plan on feeling the bills to the white sow, Ian?"

Ian looked at him quizzically before making an "O" with his mouth and pulled the envelope out.

"It came yesterday, before you di'," said Ian, handing it over to Jamie, who curiously flipped it over.

It was a letter actually. He grinned, almost laughing, as it was addressed to James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser and had been tied thoughtfully with twine and a sprig of greenery embedded (accidentally?) in its bow that he brushed a blunt forefinger to.

It was from Claire.

Jamie glanced up to see Ian smirking at him and felt his ears blush hot.

"Ye're damn lucky I saw that before yer sister di'. She'd be holding it up to the light and steaming the seams open."

"She'd do no such thing," Jamie retorted, with a glint of humor in his eyes. "Yer wife would tear it open wi' her teeth and wave it in my face."

"That she would," Ian agreed with a chest shaking chuckle. "But our lass is a bloodhound and will find out sooner than not about the puir lass that ye've set yer heart upon."

The last was said almost in question. A hope that maybe Jamie had found a way to balm his wearied heart, knowing that his travels were not just a simple bout of wanderlust and the outlandish reason why. He had the look of a man now awakened, as if he'd been reborn. Something Ian himself had experienced the day Janet Fraser gave him his first kiss at the tender age of six and had never recovered from.

Nor had his nose.

Jamie met Ian's hazel eyed gaze.

"Her name's Claire," he beamed, not bothering to hide the emotion in his voice that rivaled the reverence of a prayer to the creator above. "I met her in London a week ago. Spent every second I could wi' her."

And leaving the woman of his dreams had been like having his heart cleaved in two.

"Then you'll have to write to me," Claire had said, beneath her gates woven green with ivy, having clasped her fingers to his, while her other hand held his arm as if to draw him back to her marvelous world.

"Letters, ye mean?" He gulped, having felt himself sway to her power.

She nodded. "I prefer it. I can't stand the ringing and pinging of a telephone. Will you, Jamie?" Her voice had sounded unsure as if it were indeed possible he could ever refuse her.

"Who do I address it to?" He had smiled, while grazing a tentative thumb to the back of her palm. "The funny house no one can see at the end of nowhere street?"

"You're a smart one." She pulled her hand away to tap his nose but had let her caress linger innocently, cluelessly, down his ginger stubbled cheek as he shivered with desire, wanting to kiss the base of her thumb, count her freckles with his mouth. "Address it to this empty lot and your letter will find me. Just don't be forever."

Jamie had pressed his hand over hers, not knowing if he could ever let her go, feeling his breath stitch tight.

"Then until I see ye again, Sassenach."

She glowed at the name he'd given her the day they'd met. Had told him before it suited her better than even her given one.

Jamie hadn't agreed with that at all and wanted to tell her what Claire was in the Ghàidhlig.

One day he would.

Perhaps strung together with the phrase stirring in his heart.

Tha gaol agam ort

But apparently a day had been far too long for her.

"I think she's the one," Jamie continued on, in almost startling disbelief as he grinned like the lovesick fool he was. "The one that's been calling for me all these years."

"Christ, man! She's real?!" Ian gripped his shoulder, matching his excitement. "Should we be expecting yer Claire for hogmanay with a wee one of yer own?"

Before Jamie could stutter a heart racing answer to that query, the two were interrupted by Jenny hollering for them.

“D’ye two want yer dinner, or shall I feed it to the dogs!?”

Said dogs, Luke and Elphin, Mars and auld Bran, howled in answer while Jamie groaned at his sister's impeccable timing.

Ian slapped his back though and gave his dearest friend and bràthair an encouraging smile and waggle of his dark brows. "Read the damn letter, man. I'll take care of yer sister. Just remember when yer wean's born to name him after me, aye?"

After watching Ian depart with a wink, Jamie threw a long leg over Cobhar's stall door (shushing the nosey beast with a promise of sugar cubes) and settled himself low in the hay.

After pocketing the bit of green to his breast pocket with a delicate hand, he carefully untied the twine and opened Claire's letter. The sweet fragrance of elderflowers and chamomile kissed the page where a simple request was written that had Jamie hopping over the stall door and running towards Lallybroch, with his pack of dogs yapping at his heels.

My Dear Jamie,

At the end of the week I'll be in Edinburgh.

Join me?

"Are ye ever going to tell me what's in this thing, Sassenach?"

Up and down the winding streets of Edinburgh, past the many sloping buildings and cafes and bitty book shops stacked beside one another, Jamie had been carrying a heavy and ornate wooden chest for Claire as she walked ahead of him, looking for the shop to deliver it to.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and her young apprentice, Elias, beside him, who'd taken quite a shine to the older Scotsman. He too had been tasked with carrying a package. It was strapped to his back, a long leather cylinder that could've held anything from mundane documents to a treasure map. Jamie wasn't sure at all.

"It's not for me to say. Besides it would only worry your dreams."

"That doesna make me feel any better," Jamie murmured, staring warily at what he held in his arms which amused Claire greatly enough to bite her posey lush lips from laughing.

"Then pretend it's a cake box."

Elias snorted, catching Jamie's attention.

"Ye ken what's in this thing don't ye, mo charaid?"

"Aye - I mean yes. But -" Elias flicked his round eyes to his mistress's straight back then cupped his hand to his round cheek. "I'll tell you later. It's downright awful and I nearly lost my -"

"You know I can hear you both? I'm not that old."

"And how old is that?" Jamie asked half teasing, half with genuine curiosity, while Elias pinked, snorting loudly once more.

Claire stopped in her tracks and spun on her heels, cutting a look at the younger lad who quickly cowered behind the much taller man.

"I'm old enough to remember Queen Victoria but not the Bonnie Prince. Is that enough for you?" She replied flatly, crossing her arms.

Jamie went a bit bug-eyed, mentally counting the decades since the little Queen's reign. Then his wide mouth twitched.

"And ye say ye're no' a witch?"

Claire rolled her eyes and continued walking but a smile had peeked on her lips that encouraged Jamie to tease her more.

"Ye ken," he began, walking beside her now and shifting the weight of the chest as he did so. "There are auld highland tales that say curls wild as yers are the mark of a Ban-druidh, and that the crows favor them to make their nests."

She tugged at her dark locks and watched as they bounced back on release with utter disdain written on her face.

"They're more of a tumbleweed curse if you ask me," she frowned, making Jamie quickly regret his words.

"I didna mean it that way, Sassenach. Truly. Yer curls are lovely. They're like the ripples in a burn when the rain and leaves fall upon it. Luminous as the sky rich in twilight. And yer eyes, Christ, they're. . ."

Jamie's voice trailed off when he realized they'd stopped walking and had the wide-eyed attention of both Elias and Claire.

As well as everyone else on the street alongside them.

How loudly had he been blabbering?

But then a smile of pure delight broke across Claire's face, reflecting brightly in her eyes, as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear, only for another far more impetuous to take its place.

"How has no one snatched up a charmer like you, Jamie?"

One had. A very oblivious one.

Jamie sheepishly shrugged and found unparalleled interest in the engravings of the wooden box he carried as his face blazed the very color of his beating heart. He looked very much like a schoolboy.

Unnoticed by them though was dear Elias, whose sea-grey eyes darted between them both, grinning sweet as pie.

Walking down another street, Claire finally announced they had arrived, and the men, sore footed and muscle strained, sighed in relief.

The shop exterior was hard wood and painted coal black while the door was a dark and flaking green. And written in gold on the long framed window beside the door, Jamie read to himself

THE WITHERED BONE

Potions // Trinkets // Antiques

The Finest Biscuits This Side of the Black Realm

"Biscuits?" Jamie murmured, knotting his brow. "What kind of shop is this? Like yers, Sassenach?"

"Not necessarily," she said, hand hesitant on the brass doorknob. "For one it's in plain sight. But if you want to call anyone a witch the three who own this place would fit the bill. I think they even have a cauldron."

"They do. I saw it with - uh, nevermind," Elias choked at the last, blushing beet red.

Claire arched her brow. "Now Elias -"

"I know, ma'am," he drawled, fiddling with the strap over his chest. "Stay away from Ms. Annalise and keep to your side."

"And Jamie -"

He looked at her smiling wryly. "Ms. Annalise?"

"Shut up," she said, playfully swatting his arm. "You stay at the front of the shop. There's nothing there that can bite your nose off."

Claire then ushered them both through the door.

Inside, it was a cluttered jumble of anything and everything. An elaborate display of lost treasures from Africa to France and most prominently the Jacobite resistance in all its doomed glory. There was an array of vintage costume jewelry, stacked stop tables against the walls and racks of overflowing clothing a group of young girls were pawing through, where one in particular, all flaxen hair and big doe eyes, was swaying to the melancholy chords of a record that crackled softly in the background.

What makes you think love will end?

When you know that my whole life depends

On you

It was a tune Jamie remembered his parents dancing to. His mother had been wrapped in his father's arms as he nuzzled her cheek, softly mouthing the words against her skin. The young girl hummed it too as she gazed dreamily at a dress in her hands.

Overhead hung a simple iron chandelier that seemed to have been ripped straight from a castle's dungeon, dripping hot candle wax to a metal bowl placed on the hardwood floors. One burning drop fell down Jamie's neck as he walked beneath them, that had him cursing underbreath as he scrunched his shoulders and knocked his knee into a table, rattling the knickknacks.

"Ye break it ye buy it, laddie," came a voice from the front of the shop. "I'll take cash and the blood of yer first born."

"Oh, Geilie," said Claire and crossed over to the counter, leaning over the glass display of dirks and sgian dhu (with a cookie jar atop) to kiss a rather wicked to the bone looking redhead's cheek. "You are terrible."

"It wasn'a as if I lied," Geilie snickered, turning her attention first to young Elias who flinched under her unnerving gaze then to Jamie, blatantly raking over his physique before Claire stepped into her view.

"Who's the clumsy stag ye've brought wi' ye, Claire?"

"A friend who I very much like as he is. No twitching your nose or feeding him your biscuits." She then mumbled to Jamie at her shoulder. "Hansel and Gretel, remember?"

"Ye're never any fun," she pouted, then pointed her chin. "Have ye a name, stag?"

"Jamie," he replied simply, not at all trusting the unsettling woman before him with more than that.

"Weel then, Jamie, ye can leave that in the corner there and you," she looked at Elias with a devilish grin as she propped her chin on her hand and drummed her fingers to her cheek. "Louise will be waiting downstairs fer ye, Annalise too. But ye kent that aye?"

While the young lad experienced a sudden shortness of breath, Jamie set the delivery down and rather dumbly asked, "What's downstairs?"

Geilie's eyes shimmered like the feral beast whose blood she probably bathed in, chilling Jamie down to his bones.

"Why? Are ye needin' an ill-wish like the wee lasses over there." She gestured over to the girls taking their leave. "Mebbe something far more entertaining and lethal like a summoning? Those require a blood sacrifice, ken. Nothing so tender as yer sweet lass here wi' her trade of bits and bobs.

She wasn't kidding.

Jamie glanced at the doorway that led downstairs, carved with cabbalistic symbols. A faint whiff of bitter herbs wafted through a pigeon blood red curtain that shadowed it, mingling with a coppery tang he could taste on his tongue, tainting the air. It churned his wame with sick.

"Or are ye wantin' - Oh!" She quickly shot a strange and startled look over to Claire.

"Leave him be, Geilie," Claire chided, unaware of the questions in her sometimes friend's eyes as she threw all her attention on Jamie.

"We'll only be a minute," she assured him with a hand running down his arm, sending a shock of steadying warmth through him that he knew came from someplace bewitching within her. "And don't worry about Geilie, she won't touch a hair on your head when she knows I can shrivel hers like a prune."

Jamie smiled at his own Ban-druidh. Must've whispered it too, to deserve the pinch she gave him before leaving with Elias downstairs to the witch's grisly lair.

"I ken what yer after, mo bhalaich," came Geilie's voice, softly speaking to him as if he were a friend. "I can see it festering in ye like hemlock, yer love fer the Sassenach."

Jamie nervously glanced over to the doorway. "I dinna ken what yer on about, woman."

"Dinna bother hidin' it, no' like she can see it anyhow. She hasn't the heart fer it, ye see. Hers was taken by her old master, the wee frog, who lived in that house of hers before she di'. She hasn'a a clue where it is, doesn'a even ken it's missin', and wi'out it she canna love ye back."

"Why - Why should I believe you?" Jamie asked haltingly, for his throat was being strangled by his heart, ripped from beneath his ribs.

"Why would I lie, ye puir wee fool? Save yerself, getaway, or that love ye carry will swallow ye whole, heart and soul and breath."

Only when she touched the tender spot on his chest did Jamie realize he was bent over the counter a hair's breadth away from the witch, close enough to see the harsh and earnest truth pooling in her eyes.

Then she pushed him away.

"All done," said Claire, coming through the curtain, and cast her gaze between the two in front of her.

"What have you two been doing?" She waved a finger at them both.

"Oh, a little talking is all. Nothing more," grinned Geilie, face a mask of perfect innocence.

Claire hummed, believing otherwise and tried to make light of whatever she saw troubling Jamie's face. "You should know whatever Geilie told you, it's probably only half as bad or twice as worst,"

"Och, I'm sure of it, Sassenach. Shall we go?" Jamie said hurriedly, not meeting her eye. Trying to forget what the witch had said.

She slowly nodded, her face lined with concern, but tucked her slender arm through his and gave Geilie a half-hearted goodbye. Immediately, Jamie felt the blood in his veins flow to his heart now beating in its proper place and air return to his lungs.

But somewhere deep inside himself, Jamie could feel the beginnings of a rotting ache bloom and take root. He was already too far gone.

"You didn't eat the biscuits did you."

He managed a weak chuckle and swallowed. "No lass." But then he swiveled his head. "Where's the wee lad?"

In five seconds flat, Claire had Elias by his arm like a child, his face a burning fever red and eyes bowed to the ground with Ms. Annalise leaning at the doorway, a beguiling smile on her face.

No time is wasted that makes two people friends

THANK YOU to everyone who reads and comments on this fic. You have no idea how much I appreciate it!!

!!MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Now Author Notes

*First off sorry for all the messy mistakes and eye gouging writing

*Thanks to @soinspiredbyyou/ @mo-nighean-rouge for help with the line tweaking "Perhaps strung together with the phrase stirring in his heart." Although hers was actually better "Perhaps preceded by a phrase stirring in his heart" but preceded sounded too smart and too good for my dummy words.

*The descriptions of Cobhar are from the book cause I don't know anything about horses.

*The song is Never My Love

*I may come back and fiddle with this chapter but I really wanted to get this done before Christmas.

*Next chapter will be the last

#jamie x claire #Outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction

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thereluctantinquisitor · 3 years

Text

WIP Whenever

Thank you for the tag @captainsaku! At the moment, I’m still limping through the opening chapters of Stonebreaker, trying to get a feel for the story and work on strengthening my atrophied writing muscles. Anyway, I figured I’d share what I have so far of Adiran’s introductory chapter. It’s basically just an awkward, descriptive mess, but at least it’s something. At this point, I’ll count that as a win!

I also put a short glossary at the end in case some terms were confusing. <3

Chapter 3 - A Scene

Be present. Do not cause a scene.

They were simple enough requests, Adiran supposed, as he braced himself and drained his third flute of wine. He knew it was poor form to cringe after swallowing, but the dry white was about as pleasant as a mouthful of sand and only went down half as well. If he was the paranoid type, he’d think the servers were offering him the worst vintages on purpose.

Then again, the celebration had stretched into its ninth day, now. Even the royal cellars had a limit.

Despite overstaying its welcome, the event remained at a predictably lofty height of splendour. In the ballroom - Vetrose’s famed Silver Font - delicate rivulets of water, no wider than the span of a hand, curled their way across the marble floor, draining into a shallow pool at the base of the royal thrones. Above their heads, weavelight strings were draped elegantly between pillars and across wide arches, their glowing pinpricks joining the blazing chandelier to bathe the room a honey-gold.

Beneath that radiant light, the Talveran nobility moved like swans, jewellery glittering, ankle-length gowns and embroidered jackets flashing enough to catch the attention of nesting crows. Hundreds packed the Font that night - an entirely different crowd to the evening prior, and likely the one prior to that. Attending Talveran court, with its litany of demands and expectations, was an exhausting and expensive affair. Every evening demanded a new outfit. A new glittering showpiece. A new plan for navigating the treacherous waters of social interaction, careful not to show too much interest in any one person. One night was difficult enough to survive. Very few could afford to be present for an entire turn’s worth of celebration.

Unfortunately, Adiran had no choice in the matter. It just had to be his brother returning from the northern border. As if no one else had ever come back from that waste of a campaign.

Another mouthful. Another weary swallow of something half as strong as it needed to be. Honestly, he’d almost rather be swallowing sand. At least that meant he’d be in the arena, getting his ass kicked practicing for something that mattered, instead of wasting his time decorating the wall. Divider’s Own, Lorvain was meant to have arrived by the third day! Adiran might have been able to slip away if he had been around to soak up the attentions of the lords and ladies. But no. The beloved Crown Prince had probably stopped to fawn over milkmaids and shepherds at every town between here and Morgate. Really, they should have accounted for that before throwing such a ridiculous event...

A prince should want to know his people, Adiran. I thought you understood that?

Threading paths expertly between the nobility were almost three dozen servers dressed in vibrant Volise green. Silver trays were held aloft on the pads of their gloved fingers as they moved in rehearsed patterns around the room, making sure every hand that sought a glass found a delicate stem. It was a different sort of dance; the kind that typically went unnoticed, the same way a clock’s hands are appreciated more than the mechanism behind the face. They knew the position of every crack in the stone; every rivulet.

None of them ever looked down.

Speaking of timing, the only reason Adiran paid the servers any heed was to make sure he got his right. On cue, he finished his wine with a grimace and thrust it towards a well-groomed young woman, her dark hair braided and pinned neatly around her head. Without so much as an errant blink, she bobbed carefully at the knees, accepted the glass, and replaced it with a new one from her tray.

“Careful not to drop that,” Adiran said, taking the drink and giving it an experimental sniff. Sweeter. Thank the Divider for that.

The server hesitated. They always did. Every night. “Your Highness?” she asked, and her lilt was perfection. Just the right amount of simpering, blended with polite curiosity. Someone had taken her training seriously.

“Am I slurring already? What I’m saying is that if the Crown Prince finally shows up and you’re in the middle of mopping a puddle, the King will have your hide for saddle leather. So...” He extended one bored finger towards the tray, a smirk curling the corner of his lips. “Tread lightly.”

The server’s mouth opened, and for a moment no sound followed. For just one blissful, fleeting second, Adiran thought he’d finally done it. He’d finally won.

Then, like underappreciated clockwork, her lips shaped themselves into a beatific smile, and she dipped into a curtsy. The tray never even wobbled. “Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. On my word, I will remain diligent. I would not dare bring shame on our King’s house.”

Damn it. The smile Adiran flashed back - half a sneer - could cut glass. But the server had already completed her parting bob and returned to her dance, weaving and gliding among the gaggle of silver-bloods with her tray of weak wine. Expression turning brittle, Adiran huffed and leaned back against one of the massive marble pillars - just one of fifteen lining the room. He’d claimed it on the first evening, like a hound staking its territory. Most people knew better than to bother him once he’d found his haunt, but the serving staff simply didn’t have that luxury. He supposed it was probably unkind, to force them to speak to him. But Divider, he was just so bored...

Scowling, he took a long swallow of his new drink, the chilled, sweet liquid a welcome enough sensation as it ran down the back of his throat.

So he was unkind. So what?

“Are you finished losing to the servers for tonight, or should I come back later?”

A familiar voice, and right on time. Adiran gave no indication of surprise, barely even turning to acknowledge the man. After all, this was just another ritual for them; a way to take a knife to long hours of affluent, barely drunk loitering. “Yeah, I’m done. An earthquake couldn’t shake them.” His gaze finally cut across, delivering what he hoped was a scathing look as Riin settled against the pillar beside him. “Took you long enough. Get distracted by all the pretty gowns and pouting lips?”

Folding his arms across his broad chest, Riin chuckled softly, utterly immune to Adiran’s glare. “Could you blame me if I was? Everyone looks appealing under this light.”

“That’s generous of you.” Sniffing, Adiran glanced up. Even with the smoke-glass covers encasing each glowing orb, he still had to squint against the brightness of the weavelights. “Guess it could be worse. We looked more like corpses before the covers were put on.”

“Really? I’m glad I missed it.”

“Yeah. Being dead inside is more than enough.”

Riin laughed, and a faint smile curved Adiran’s lips. He quickly hid it behind his glass. Truthfully, the entire ‘weavelight saga’ had been ridiculous. The King and Queen had commissioned hundreds of them from Tel Shival, purely because no one else had ever done it. Even the wealthiest families only ever had a few per household, usually kept in a lantern or a sconce in the most frequented rooms. After two seasons of painstaking arrangement that nearly killed two of their staff, the Silver Font soon found itself bathed in a thematically violent silver light. It had been an exciting novelty, at first; nobility flooded in from all over Talvera just to bask in the glow of thousands of wasted sicets. But then they quickly realised that colours didn’t behave the same way. Their favourite jewellery didn’t catch the eye. Their skin didn’t appear as youthful and rosy. Instead, every flaw - every stray hair or unpolished button - was placed on stark display for the vultures to pick at.

The weavelights were as bleak and clinical as a physicker’s ward. They sucked the warmth out of everything they touched.

In Adiran’s mind, the wash of corpse-light over each soiree was a perfectly fitting thing. But, as was typical, no one else agreed. So, they decided to encase each of the weavelights in honey-tinted glass and returned the room to almost exactly how it looked before. Back when it was lit by oil and flame.

That was how things were in Talvera. Decisions were made, sicets were spent, and then everyone just wanted to go back to how things used to be. Like nothing had ever happened.

GLOSSARY

Weavelight - spheres of crystal or glass, with a light-bearing glyphstring engraved by a thaumist specialising in Weaving. Maintains a bright, steady silver light. Cannot be dimmed or turned off at will. Thaumist - a well-trained practitioner of the thaumic arts, capable of manipulating thaumic essence. Turn - ten days. Tel Shival - An independent, famously insular city dedicated to the training and cultivation of thaumists and thaumaturgical study. Sicet - Currency used in the Allied Kingdoms.

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Tagging: @frenchy-and-the-sea, @leothelionsaysgrrrr, @bladeverbena, @thefluffynug, @rufinagertrude, @arduyn, @anarchyduck, and anyone else who has a WIP they’d like to share!

#wip whenever #(because i always miss wednesday lol)#reluctant memes #stonebreaker series #adiran #riin #the more i read it the more i dont really like it but #just... gotta... MOVE ON....#hURGH #reluctant writes

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