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babyboibucky · 3 years

Text

Deserve Better

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky disappeared and came back only to say goodbye.

Word Count: 2,887

Warnings: angsty angsty angsty angsty angsty

A/N: Post-endgame timeline with lotsa angst! Included Andy Barber here because why the fuck not but he’s really not a major character lol

Deserve Better || Undeserving || Deserve The Best

MAIN MASTERLIST

The day you got Bucky back was the same day he said goodbye. He left you— said it was for the best— just as when your fingertips touched him for the first time after five years of longing.

Your reunion with Bucky after the snap was nothing like the movies, far from it actually. A lot of things happened when he was snapped back, in between the battle with Thanos and Tony’s funeral. Besides, you weren’t an Avenger; you didn’t work for SHIELD nor the CIA. In fact, you remained oblivious of the battle that was going on until the moment of chaos caused by the sudden reappearances of half of the world’s population.

And then you received a message from Steve, about the tragedy and the sacrifice of Tony Stark. He was inviting you to the funeral and as much as you felt devastated from the loss of a hero, you couldn’t help but focus your attention on the last line of Steve’s message.

Bucky’s going to be there too. He’s back. He needs you to be there with him.

It wasn’t until the funeral was over that you finally got to have Bucky all to yourself. You had locked gazes when you arrived and staring back into his beautiful blue eyes again made your knees weak.

Bucky was really back.

“Hi.” He greeted you first, his voice remained the same— soft and gentle.

One word was enough to make you feel the warmth of his existence. Hearing him, seeing him again felt like finally coming home after a very long, tiring day.

“Hi, Buck.” You whispered.

Bucky’s smile was all it took for the dam to finally break. You’d burst into tears right then and there and you were more than ready to feel his arms around you after years of hugging yourself to sleep during his absence.

But the warmth never came. If any, Bucky stopped himself from doing so. You frowned when he took a step back from you, extending his metal arm to keep you at a certain length away from him.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered, refusing to meet your gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I have to go.” He explained, gently squeezing your arm before rubbing circles on your skin using his thumb.

You didn’t understand why Bucky needed to go when he just got back. You just got him back. You had spent years crying over his disappearance only for him to come back and disappear again?

Bucky explained that he thought he got better but things have become so vastly different after the snap that it left him feeling broken and different again. He told you about Steve’s decision to go back in time, never to return again. How Tony’s death made him feel like it was too late to set things straight and how he would probably carry the guilt and regret from not being able to apologize for what he had done.

“I’ll help you, Buck. We’ll work through this together. I want to be by your side when things get better.” You insisted, tears blurring your vision as you tried to reach for Bucky, wanting to feel him again after such a long time.

But Bucky kept on moving away from you, he kept on pushing you away and you wanted to understand why he wouldn’t let you touch him.

“I’ll only hurt you, I don’t want that to happen. I want to get better because you deserve better. But I can’t do that with you because this...this is something that I gotta figure out by myself.” He further explained.

You shook your head, unable to accept his decision. “Buck...I don’t think I can lose you again. I just got you back...I can’t afford to lose you again, please?”

When you attempted to reach for Bucky’s hand, he finally let you. You quickly entwined your fingers through his metal ones and savored how they felt against your skin. They were cold as usual, but Bucky always oozed a certain warmth that made you feel safe.

But now they’re just that— cold and hard.

“I love you. I’ll wait, Bucky.” You murmured and tugged at his hand before he could even let you go.

Bucky smiled sadly at you, “You don’t have to, doll.”

You shook your head and brought Bucky’s hand to your lips as you cried, “I want to. And I will.”

Pressing one final kiss on his hard knuckles, you watched Bucky slip his hand away from yours before turning around to leave. You felt your chest tighten as if you lost all the oxygen in your lungs the same way you lost Bucky.

Losing him the second time around proved to be even more painful. Because this time, he didn’t just disappear.

He walked away.

You waited for Bucky to come home to you for days and weeks until they turned into months...and then years. Still, no Bucky walked through your doorstep but you never stopped hoping.

Sleep was such a rare occurrence to you since Bucky walked away. How do you honestly cope with the loss of someone when you haven’t even healed yet from his first disappearance? You wanted to get mad at him, curse him for suddenly deciding to leave you. But you felt selfish for even thinking about that, because Bucky left to better himself.

To be better for you. He said so himself.

So you kept waiting for him to come back. You made it your reason to keep going. You looked forward to the day you’d hear your door open followed by his heavy foot steps. You wondered, would he smell the same then? Would he still be using your favorite perfume on him? One that smelled like cedar wood and mint and well, Bucky. Would his hair still be of the same length? What about his beard? Would he shave them off before coming back home?

How about his gaze? Would his blue ones still look at you as if you were his moon?

As much as these thoughts made you miss him more, they were the ones that you held onto. They were like your glimmer of hope on nights you were the loneliest, on nights you cried and dreamt of his return only to wake up to an empty, cold space beside you.

You held onto these thoughts every single day in hopes of them becoming real soon enough.

People have told you to move on, to not waste your time waiting for someone who walked away just like that. But you trusted Bucky when he said he wanted to be better because you deserved better. You couldn’t move on, not from Bucky.

You love him with your entire being, so much that his absence caused you physical pain too. You couldn’t even find the right words to describe how much you love Bucky.

In the three years that you spent waiting, you’d met a lot of people too. People who showed interest but none of them really won you over.

You’d met a man named Andy through work. He was a lawyer and was dealing with his own divorce. The connection was there and you wouldn’t deny that.

Two people dealing with the grief from losing someone they love, it wasn’t that hard not to find a common ground. And you did find some solace in Andy and him in you. But it was just that, nothing more and nothing less.

“How has it been?” You asked Andy after he had settled into the booth across of you.

The restaurant was surprisingly scarce on a Sunday morning. Usually there were plenty of customers, their chatters overpowering the soft music playing in the background. Now, it was peaceful and the radio was turned off. There were only the clinks of plates of being set on tables and the footsteps of the staff walking around the place as they attended to the few customers around.

It was serene and peaceful, pretty much like Andy’s aura when he arrived.

“I wouldn’t say I’m fine but I guess I’m at a much better place now than before.” He said with a nod, as if he was finally agreeing with himself after questioning his emotions for the past few months.

You offered a kind smile and placed a hand on top of his, “It shows, Andy. I’m glad. I’m happy for you.” You said.

He had been going through a lot of emotions since he signed the divorce papers. He didn’t want to but knew it was for the best. Andy had a son, Jacob, and he didn’t want for his son to grow up in an environment where his parents no longer slept on the same bed. As much as he loved Laurie, the relationship was no longer working and was becoming toxic the more they stayed together.

“And you?” Andy asked back before calling the waiter.

You let out a deep breath, “Still waiting.” You chuckled as your stared at your hand that remained on top of Andy’s.

Andy spared you an apologetic glance but nodded, “I do hope he knows how lucky he is.” He said, turning his palm up so he could hold your hand.

To others, the gesture may seem romantic but it really wasn’t. You and Andy both knew that despite the similarities and the comfort you found in each other, the both of you were not meant to be together in that way.

Your heart still belonged to Bucky after all.

When you received an invitation from Sam Wilson, you felt confused and excited. There was going to be a huge gala at the compound to honor Steve Rogers’ legacy as Captain America.

You’d heard the news about Steve’s passing not long after he went back in time. He finally got to live the life he deserved and when he came back, it was as if everything had been corrected. He may no longer be the super soldier that many knew but he remained the same person— but he wasn’t the man out of time anymore. Despite his white hair and wrinkles, Steve looked the happiest he had ever been.

You wondered how Bucky coped up with such a huge loss, you always worried for him.

It sparked debate though, Steve’s decision to leave the Avengers. Some got angry, said that Steve was selfish for doing that. Others showed sympathy, that Steve didn’t owe the world anything. He’d spent a lifetime fighting for everyone. It was time that he fought for himself and what he deserved. And Sam fought just as hard for Steve’s legacy and finally, all his hard work finally paid off.

What confused you was whether Bucky was going to be there? Does he know about the gala? Was he finally back? If he was, why hasn’t he come home to you yet? You had so many questions that you wanted to ask.

The answers though, were literally in the palm of your hand— the invitation.

It was no surprise how big the gala was. Just on your way inside, you’d already come across a lot of big personalities. There were politicians and popular celebrities too. You felt intimidated given that you went by yourself and that you weren’t really part of their world.

You were just you, someone who had fallen in love with one Bucky Barnes who introduced you to the world of superheroes. The rest was history.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” You turned around and found Sam approaching you with a huge smile.

You embraced him and smiled as you pulled away, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” You told him.

It was Steve and Sam that you’d met first and they were nothing but kind to you. Despite being well, ordinary, they welcomed you like their own when Bucky had introduced you.

Sam’s expression changed at your response, “I honestly thought that you wouldn’t show up after Bucky said—“

“Bucky?” You immediately cut him off upon hearing his name.

“Bucky’s back?” You asked and Sam had never looked more confused as ever.

He carefully nodded, brows knitting together as he frantically looked around. “I thought you knew about it.”

“How long? How long has it been since he came back, Sam?” You probed, feeling your throat constricting at the unexpected revelation.

Sam merely looked at you with what seemed to be pity. Why? Why was he looking at you like he was sorry? And why didn’t Bucky tell you when he came back? Was he simply not ready? Or was he waiting for the right time?

“Sam, how long?” You asked again, voice firmer this time around.

“A year ago. He decided to join the Avengers but wanted to undergo formal training before taking on the responsibility of one.” He responded.

You opened your mouth to say something but it’s as if your whole body was paralyzed. He had been back for an entire year now...and yet he kept you waiting?

A hand on your arm pulled you back to the surface, looking up at Sam you shook your head in utter confusion.

“I don’t understand why he didn’t tell me.”

Sam sighed, “I thought you knew. He said he saw you and—“

Sam’s words died on his tongue when he saw that your attention was no longer on him. Following the line of your sight, Sam turned around and saw that Bucky had walked into the venue. He swallowed and couldn’t hide the guilt he felt from assuming that you knew about his return. Before he could apologize, you’d brushed past him as you kept your gaze on Bucky.

Why he didn’t inform you of his return was beyond you and to be honest, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about it for now. Because Bucky was right in front of you and it felt like forever since you last saw him.

A lot has changed. He chopped off his hair but he still sported some scruff. Bucky looked closer to his younger self back in the 40’s. You remembered the conversation you had with him about cutting his hair.

“Should I cut it?” Bucky stood in your bathroom, observing his long locks in the mirror as he ran his fingers through them.

You walked over to him, hugging him from behind and pressing your lips on his back before moving to stand beside him.

“Do you want to?” you asked.

Bucky scrunched his nose, “Maybe in the future. I do miss my hair back then.” he smiled.

You chuckled, “Back when Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes used to sweep the ladies off of their feet?” you teased.

Bucky turned to you and wrapped an arm around your wait pulling you closer to kiss your lips, “Hmm, I wanna see if that hair will have the same effect on you.” he said and kissed your cheek.

You hummed as you caressed his face with your delicate hands, “I’d like to see that too, but maybe you should keep the scruff.”

But it wasn’t just his hair that changed. It was his entire demeanor— his aura seemed a lot lighter now, he seemed happier and confident. You knew it for a fact because he wasn’t wearing a glove to hide his metal hand. It was out on display for everyone to see and shake, apparently.

You watched in awe as Bucky interacted with the people around him. He used to avoid eye contact with strangers but now he seemed relaxed doing so. Although he would still open and close his metal hand, something he did whenever he was anxious. The crowd still made him uncomfortable but he’s shown a lot of improvement since then.

The question as to why he never told you about his return continued to linger in the back of your head. But you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling from ear to ear, eyes brimming with tears as you quickened your steps.

Your Bucky was finally back.

And then the world seemed to have stopped when a certain blonde walked over to Bucky, her hand sliding over to his cheek as she leaned up to press a quick peck on his lips.

You knew her of course, Sharon Carter; and you knew about her and Steve. It was Bucky himself who told you about them and how proud he was that Steve finally decided to try his luck at romance. Which is why you felt even more appalled at the scene playing before you.

The way Bucky slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him and how he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. How he was smiling down at her, whispering to her ear as they laughed.

Bucky was in love with Sharon. You didn’t have to ask him that anymore because he was looking at her like she was his moon, his source of light in the darkness.

You knew that because he looked at you the same way, back when you still had his heart.

Suddenly, the questions plaguing your mind found their answers. You understood now why he never came home to you.

He did get better, you could tell that by the way he smiled and laughed.

Bucky was better now, but not for you. At least, not anymore.

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3

#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky x you #bucky x reader #sebastian stan

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mcyt-imagines · 3 years

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hi hi ! first off, just a tip if you'd like more requests/asks in general you should prob turn on anon since this is like the only time i've sent a non-anon ask. but anyways, i'm assuming requests are open and i'd like to ask if you would write either just ranboo fluff in general or something like the tommy confession headcanons but w ranboo :D what you've posted so far is great <3

Thank you so much for letting me know! I thought I had anon turned on already, but it’s 100% turned on now! Regarding your request I got a little carried away and wrote both some general fluff and some confession headcanons for Ranboo so this post is a little long... Hope you enjoy! :D

(It’s important to note that these headcanons are a combination of ones pertaining to his Minecraft character in the dsmp and him outside of the dsmp roleplay!)

General Ranboo Fluff

- Dreamsmp Ranboo -

The first time Ranboo cries in front of you is when you confess to him and he is so happy and relieved that you reciprocate his feelings. He even smiles through the pain of his tears as you panic to cover the skin beneath his eyes, so your hands catch his tears to stop the pain.

Ranboo likes to ask if you need any resources from time to time and once you finally give in and answer, he spends the rest of his day trying to collect as much of it as he can. This has led to a few incidents in which you came back to your shared indent in the snowy mountain to find a chest stacked full with polished stone and countless ores. You’ve scolded him but the way he responds with big puppy dog eyes wishing to “just be helpful.” Sets the butterflies caged in your chest free every damn time.

Ranboo in addition to asking you for want you want he is also very observant in noticing what you need. Any tools close to breaking? Brilliant, he’s already got three more of the same tools ready for you to grab when you need it. He also names them using the anvil to some silly super cheesy pet names.

One of his favourite things to do with you is stargaze. You both travel to the top of your snowy mountain and clear out a space free of snow to lie down and simply hold each other. Ranboo has started asking Techno (on the nights you are away) to point out the stars and tell him their corresponding stories. He happily relays all of this information to you in exaggerated detail, looking at you in awe as your expressions change with the twinkling lights above.

Ranboo almost always carries a little umbrella around with him in case it begins to rain. Most of his friends notice and all start to buy him some. He now has a full collection that line his wall just next to the door. It’s those small things that allows him to remember who his real friends are.

Ranboo LOVES having his hair played with. He will fall asleep within minutes of you beginning to tousle his hair as he rests his head in your lap. He may make soft enderman noises, but you don’t dare tell him. Content on keeping that little secret to yourself.

Ranboo has to be kinda careful around snow considering that if it melts it will hurt him. Meaning he has to sit out on any snowball fights that occur. And they occur more frequently than you would think. It usually starts with Phil throwing a rogue snowball at Techno when Phil notices him slumping his shoulders. Which means it doesn’t take long until it’s a full-blown war. You usually find yourself smack bang in the middle of it and have to dive down to avoid getting pummelled in the crossfire. Ranboo will call you over to hide behind Techno’s house. As the onslaught continues between the two. you giggle and commentate over the fierce battle together.

- Outside of Dreamsmp Ranboo -

Ranboo enjoys watching you whenever you are focused on something. He’s incredibly observant and finds himself mimicking the small little nuances he sees you exhibit. He gets incredibly flustered whenever you notice that he’s picked up on them, but he doesn’t bother to deny it.

Ranboo finds himself staring at you a lot. He doesn’t mean to but he can’t help it. You catch him frequently, “Watching me real closely, hm?” He tries to stutter out an answer to defend himself, but you just smile and tell him it’s okay.

Ranboo finds a lot of comfort in doing ‘domestic’ activities with you. However, one of his personal favourites is when the two of you go out to get groceries together. His mum will give him a small list and he’ll try his best to dawdle around the store whilst swinging your intertwined hands to make the visit as long as possible. It makes him think of a future in which the two of you get to do this every single week and that alone warms his heart.

Ranboo always has to be near you, he doesn’t have to be physically touching you but he prefers to just be stupidly close to you. It always makes you laugh when he sits just close enough to you that you don’t touch, so now he has to do it forever.

Your laugh is one of his favourite sounds. To the point that if you giggle or laugh at something, he will just keep doing it over and over again for as long as you keep laughing at it. Which eventually leads to the both of you red-faced and gasping for air.

Ranboo is a terrible cook. But he tries so hard to follow recipes and they always flop. He also for some reason, cannot attempt cooking without making an utter mess of himself. Whether it’s spilling flour all over himself, getting egg yolk splatter somehow in his hair or just spilling copious amounts of milk on the floor so that he slips. This boy is a walking, talking kitchen DISASTER. So now he can only cook with you supervising him. Which turns out, wasn’t as much of a punishment as it should have been. As your tutelage seems to have slightly improved his cooking skills. However, now you also get flour spilt all over you as well.

Ranboo Confession Headcanons

- Realising he likes you -

Ranboo denies he has feelings for you at first. Believing that you’re just a good friend whose company he really enjoys. But the more he focuses on your friendship the quicker he realises he would prefer if you were more to him than that.

This thought alone sends him into a little bit of a spiral for a few days. Grappling with the thought of rejection and the guilt he would feel if he ever hurt you.

He spends most of the time grappling with his feelings he continues to try and act as normal as possible around you. You finding out would be his worst nightmare.

Ranboo realises he has absolutely no history in the dating department and desperately needs some guidance. He may ask Phil on a whim who would try his best to give the poor panicked boy some words of wisdom. Ranboo takes the advice to heart immediately, promising Phil he will update him on how his feelings for you turn out.

Ranboo finds himself writing about you in one of his many journals. He finds putting words on the page seems to help clear his mind. He tries to script his confession a few times. Desperately floundering to find the right words, but he always seems to fall short. He usually ends up scribbling all over those pages until you can barely tell someone had even written on them. Hoping to somehow erase the thoughts in the process.

He even tries drawing you a few times when he finds himself with enough spare time. He doesn’t think they’re any good though. Sure, the sketches look like you, but they don’t make him feel the way you do. When he looks at the page his chest doesn’t tighten because of your beauty, but instead because of the way you’ve made him feel. Which he comes to the sad conclusion is something he simply cannot capture in his words or his drawings. He has to show it through his actions. Not exactly his strong suit. But he’s determined to do right by you. So, he devises a plan.

- Confessing to you -

This boy plans the whole day down to a t, he has multiple back-up plans just in case his first one falls short.

Ranboo invites you over for lunch. Arriving at his place you notice how clean it is. He spent the last few days cleaning it top to bottom.

You spend a few minutes in the house chatting. You notice Ranboo is on edge almost immediately. Shoulders a pinch too tight, his smiles a little too wide and none of them reach his eyes.

You ask what you’re going to be having for lunch and he reveals a wicker basket from his kitchen. “A picnic!” Your heart warms, “I would’ve brought something if you’d told me beforehand.” He smiles at that, “Exactly. I even cooked without you, you should be proud.”

He shuffles on his feet a little, wishing to be praised, “We’ll see how the food tastes first, maybe then I’ll tell you how proud I am.” You tease, moving to elbow him lightly. You notice the way his face flushes as you move into his space. His mother appears from upstairs, “Are you two leaving? I could drive you, y’know!” “No thanks mom!!” He is quick to grab your hand and practically drag you out of the house and away from his all knowing mom.

The bus ride is on the longer side and you find yourself feeling brave enough to scoot a little closer to Ranboo. “Hey, is it okay if I?” You gesture between your head and his shoulder, the cute, shocked expression he sends you causes you to grin. “Uh s-sure!”

You softly press your head against his shoulder, “Thanks, pretty comfy shoulder you got here should’ve asked you to share it sooner.” You tease, nuzzling his shoulder lightly just for a reaction. And you get one alright, his skin goes such a lovely shade of red all the way up to the tips of his ears. You giggle softly, trying your best to hold it in and failing miserably.

You even manage to fall asleep despite your own heartbeat quickening at Ranboo’s closeness. You are tapped awake by him, “Hmm?” You rub one of your eyes knowingly appearing adorable and the way he looks at you makes it all worth it. “It’s our stop soon, we gotta get up.”

You nod and lazily stand and he follows suit. Only for the bus to brake abruptly, promptly shoving you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you quickly to steady you whilst you desperately cling to the wicker basket, “You okay?” You both mumble to each other before laughing it off and nodding. “Oh crap.” Ranboo grabs your free hand and you both scramble to get to the front of the bus to hop off. Sparks fly up your arm at the extended contact, even as you jump off the bus.

Ranboo happily leads you to a spot he had picked out earlier in the month. A soft patch of grass below a large willow tree that now sways softly in the warm breeze. You set up your carefully packaged feast with haste now that your stomachs are grumbling.

Ranboo forcefully tries to make himself relax knowing you’ve probably noticed his tense state by now. But you choose not to push him on it, taking an educated guess on why he’s so stressed.

You are quick to compliment his cooking skills when he divvies out a freshly baked quiche. Even though you know his mom for sure did most of the work. It’s the thought that counts. You hope that may snap him out of the stupor he seems to be in. However, no such luck.

“Hey Ranboo, do you want to talk about something?” Ranboo goes into full panic mode. He did not have a plan for you asking something like this. He thought you weren’t confrontational!! You watch as his expression changes rapidly. You look away, “You don’t have to tell me, it’s okay. I just thought you might want to-“

He takes one of your hands in his. Why is he doing this??? This isn’t part of the plan at all! “I…” His throat goes dry. All those hours obsessing over what he was going to say to you are sent out the window when he finally meets your eyes.

“I think I like you.” He hasn’t realised he’s even said it until its waaaaaay too late. Your eyes widen, you didn’t think he’d actually admit it to you. You squeeze his hand as you watch his eyes seem to lose focus, “I like you too.” He is silent for several long moments until he starts blinking rapidly, “Huh!?” The look of utter surprise on his face causes you to burst out laughing.

“Wait, wait, wait you’re serious?” He grabs your arm as a grin slowly starts to creep onto his face. “Sure am.” And as you meet his gaze you realise that his grin actually reached his eyes, for the first time in a long while.

“So, you gonna kiss me now or what?” You tease as his face shines a dark red. “W-well I, uh-“ His stuttering only allows for you to sneak closer and press a firm kiss to his cheek. Somehow, he grows even redder and you sigh pleasantly. “My heart definitely made the right choice with you Ranboo.”

Meanwhile Ranboo is too busy freaking out over the fact that you weren’t even meant to find out he liked you until you were stargazing together later tonight. His plans are utterly ruined! But as you squeeze his hand again to bring his thoughts back into the present, he wonders that perhaps spontaneity isn’t such a bad thing sometimes.

~My ask box is always open if you’ve got any requests or just want to vent about the dreamsmp lore!~

#mcyt #ranboo #x reader #ranboo x reader #fluff headcanons #mcyt x reader #confession headcanons #mcyt imagines #mcyt headcanons

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hikarus-shida · 3 years

Text

Hook: "Where Dreams Come True”

Hook x gender neutral!reader

genre: fluff

warning: none - unless you count not being proofread

summary: hook and reader spend the day at disney world!

requested by: hook simp anon (I hope you enjoy!)

Masterlist

Tag List: @cutierocker202

I really loved this request, even though my knowledge of Disney World isn’t as extensive since I’ve never been there before. I hope you all enjoy despite the imagine not being super descriptive because of that!

*I do not own this gif!*

Since you were in Jacksonville and had not much to do, Hook decided it’d be perfect if the two of you went to Disney World. He didn’t tell you at first, wanting this to be the most perfect surprise. Hook knew that you’ve never been to Disney World and it’s been something you’ve always wanted to do ever since you were a kid. The expenses blew a hole into his wallet, but he wanted to make you happy and do something special for you.

Hook had woken you up and told you to get ready, that he was taking you somewhere. You were confused, but excited and made sure to freshen up quickly. After getting ready, you two settled into his rental car and got on the road. Hook had warned you that it would be kind of a long drive, but you didn’t mind; long drives were relaxing and as long as you were with him, it didn’t matter how long time was.

You had ended up falling asleep during the ride without even noticing or remembering. “Babe... Y/N, wake up.” Hook whispered, shaking you away. You stirred in your sleep before fully awaking, facing him. You noticed behind him that there was a car in the spot next to you, realizing that you were parked and more than likely in a parking lot. Hook had the goofiest smile on his face as he looked at you, making you laugh in confusion. “Why are you smiling like that?” You asked, laughing as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“I’m just at the Disney World, you know where dreams come true, with the love of my life. How could I not smile like a big idiot?” He said, jokingly shrugging as if the words he just uttered were no big deal. Now you were more than confused; surely you weren’t at Disney World and he was lying, but Hook never lied. “Babe,” He laughed, “Look in front of you.” You turned your head and gasped as you saw the entrance, the ‘Disney World’ sign so vibrant and striking. You looked back at Hook, tears in your eyes as you pulled him in for a tight hug. “How did you do this?”

Hook explained his process to you, how it was expensive but he managed to score decent passes and tickets, and how he did all of this on a whim just to see you happy. To say you were lucky would be an understatement; you were more than lucky to have Hook, yet he felt like he was the lucky one to be with you. The two of you got out of the rental and walked towards the entrance. “Can we please get some ears first before we do anything?” You asked, almost begging. Hook smiled and nodded, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

The two of you had gotten your Mickey ears and were ready to start the day off.

You had started from the entrance and made your way to every single park there was to offer at Disney World. You’d even met most, if not all, of the characters that roamed the parks. You were most excited to see Mickey and Minnie, taking countless pictures of them and with them. They had even begged Hook to take a picture with him, which he couldn’t say no to when he saw how excited and happy you were. “You looked so cute standing next to them,” You laughed and showed him the picture.

The two of you had stopped the adventure for a bit to grab something to eat at one of the closest restaurants. The food was delicious, something you’d probably dream about when you were back in bed. When you had gotten the bill, you immediately tried to pay but was shot down by Hook. “Hey, I told you I’d never let you pay the bill, Y/N.”

Once you had finished eating and paid the bill, the two of you thought it’d be a good idea to go to the gift shop and look around before going on any last rides. You had found a large Stitch plushie and had to buy it, while Hook mainly looked around. He had ended up finding matching bracelets for the two of you and bought them, giving yours to you once you had left the gift shop with your stitch in hand. “I thought you’d like this, so I bought it for us.” Hook smiled shyly, making you blush as he put it on your wrist for you.

It was nearly the night time and the two of you walked to the Magic Kingdom, knowing fireworks were going to be displayed any minute now. There was a crowd of people, all waiting for the fireworks just like the both of you. When the fireworks began, you were in awe. The bright lights jumping out and filling the sky made you cherish this moment with Hook even more. You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice Hook asking someone near by to take photos of the two of you. You were pulled out of your distraction when Hook turned your head with his hand on your chin and pulled you in for a kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you in close. When he pulled away, you could feel your cheeks heat up and noticed him blushing as well even with the night sky out. “I love you,” Hook said, pressing another kiss onto your forehead. “I love you too... this day was everything to me, Hook.”

Even though the fireworks kept on going, Hook and you decided to call it a night. As you walked out of Disney World, the fireworks continued to pop into the sky; it felt like the perfect end to a perfect day. Hook and you vowed to come back when you had another free day like this.

You didn’t want it to be over, but you knew there would be more fun like this in the future, as long as Hook was around.

#hook #aew #aew hook #aew hook headcanon #aew hook imagine #aew imagine #aew headcanon

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alby-rei · 3 years

Text

Piano Heist (Arthur x MC)

a/n: In which MC can’t resist the urge to steal Mozart’s piano, and Arthur pays for it.

[Characters]: MC, Arthur, Mozart, and Theo

[Genre]: Comedy with a hint of pining

[Warning]: One Very Angry Austrian None

~*~

Do you ever get that feeling…?

When the more forbidden something is, the more you really want it?

When all logic and reason tell you to look away, to let go of your inner desires?

What I’m referring to, of course, is the desire to play on Mozart’s precious fortepiano.

Every time I walked by his room, and the sound of his elegant performance drifted through the hallway, I could feel my fingers twitch at the thought of doing the same. And today was no different.

Mozart was out to rehearse with his orchestra, and I was in charge of cleaning his piano room.

Okay, more like I appointed myself in charge of cleaning his piano room.

The more I darted around the magnificent instrument that sat proudly in the middle of the secluded room, the more my mind began to swarm with plans to steal it, to take it for myself. No other piano has made me feel this way…

…except maybe the modern Steinway, but that wasn’t invented yet…

I circled the piano, shifting my gaze between it and the door. I carefully walked towards the open door that led to the hallway. I leaned against the door frame to scan the hall for any signs of vampiric presence.

None. My mind was set.

I’m stealing Mozart’s fortepiano.

I looked down at the legs of the piano. It looked like wheels were installed.

Must’ve been recent, perfect!

I unlocked them, moving behind the piano to start pushing it towards the door. I struggled with the sheer mass of it, but I kept going. I wasn’t going to back out now.

I had about half of it through the double doors barely; it was a tight fit. I winced every time any edge of the piano made even a hint of a scraping sound.

Just then, I heard a low whistle rightward outside of the door. A mop of blue hair peaked inside. Identical blue eyes narrowed with a mischievous grin to match. All the telltale signs of one curious Arthur Conan Doyle.

“What do we have here, luv?”

I brought the piano to an abrupt halt and stood leaning on it casually.

“…Nothing.”

“Well, it seems to me a lot like you’re trying to snatch Wolfie’s piano.”

I stared long and hard back at his keen azure eyes, my position unchanging.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He flinched. His grin melted off of his face into something between a grimace and a pout.

“MC!!” He whined, “You know I don’t like being compared to that woman-hating bloke.”

“Shhhhhh!” I attempted to hush discretely and assertively. I paused, on the lookout for any signs of more vampiric movement.

None.

I rolled my eyes at his insistent snickering.

“I am taking this piano for myself, now are you going to help me, or do I have to eliminate you first?”

“Eliminate me? Last I checked, I won our last bet, and you owe me a favor.”

“You cheated! I called out your loophole and you still haven’t paid up for that.”

“…alright, dove, I’ll relent this time, but I’m not back down from my favor rights.”

The thought of Mozart’s absolutely livid expression when he finds out about this was an utter delight to the resident troublemaker.

“Oi!” I glared at the sudden feeling of contact from a gloved hand, swatting the offensive hand away.

“You’re not getting any favor until this mission is completed, Sir Arthur.”

“Alright, alright. Just don’t call me Sir again. It’s much too formal for us, pretty bird.”

Arthur proceeded to push the piano, flashing a practiced flirty wink to me.

I could not roll my eyes any further back than I already did. This man never rests, does he? Not that I minded.

Not that I would ever admit to him that I did not, in fact, mind it.

‘Focus. Piano. Mine. First.’

“Where are we taking this to anyways?”

“Your room,” I answered instantly, “Duh.”

~*~

It was a long day at rehearsal. Mozart’s entire body ached from standing, conducting, yelling, and just being out in public in general. He rubbed his temples insistently on his carriage ride home with Jean, praying he could just be in his piano room at last.

Arriving after sundown, Mozart made a beeline for his room to change clothes, then to his sacred piano room. He had a stack of sheet music tucked under his arm, as he went to unlock the room.

Wait. It was already unlocked.

Oh no. Oh no.

He opened the door with the force of a hurricane. His lavender eyes wide and enraged. The sheet music scattered on the floor haphazardly.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The vampire composer’s sadness and sorrow could be heard loud and clear in every corner of the mansion. The crows flew off of their tree branches, the squirrels scurried off into the wilderness, and the worms hid beneath the dirt. But none of these creatures were half as terrified as the mansion’s residents.

Well, almost all of the residents.

Two lovely troublemakers leaned against the subject of Mozart’s anguish, laughing hysterically together. We currently settled in Arthur’s room with the hostage piano standing proud, nestled between his bed and his writing desk. The chaise-lounge was moved to the side for space. The fortepiano’s solid white wood contrasted with Arthur’s dark oak furniture, creating a magical air to it. It carried itself like a precious treasure out of a dragon’s den.

Our laughter died down as I slid Arthur’s chair in front of the guest piano of honor, sitting elegantly as I would in front of an audience. I brought my hands gingerly over the keys, softly pressing to play excerpts of pieces I learned in the 21st century.

Arthur slowly settled into his chaise-lounge on the sidelines. It may have started as a prank, but now he deemed himself the luckiest man in the world to be the sole audience member in this moment.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of a furious Mozart loudly announcing his presence in the room next to us. The suddenness of it caused me to strike a harsh dissonant chord that surely reached the composer’s ears.

‘Shit shit shit shit.’

Wordlessly, I flattened myself on the floor and rolled under Arthur’s bed to hide, leaving Arthur to confront Mozart’s rage single-handedly. Luckily for me, Arthur was too caught up by the sound of Mozart’s entrance to notice.

“Arthur…” Mozart was seething, every word dripped with venom, “what is my fortepiano doing in your room?”

Mozart’s expression was deadly calm, but the intensity in his eyes caught Arthur off-guard.

“Mozart, mate, you see… Me and—” Arthur’s confident aura dissipated as he found no MC behind the piano anymore.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t report you to le Comte.”

Arthur received his second shock of this conversation. His mind swirled with flashbacks to Comte’s relentless scolding and subsequent punishments.

“I… have none. But what I can do is help you return it to its original place.”

THE Arthur Conan Doyle... bargaining? I pressed my lips to avoid making a sound as I shook from laughter.

“Help me?! This is all your responsibility to put back without a single scratch.”

Arthur’s eyes darted for a split second to the edge of the piano.

Uh oh, Mozart noticed.

“ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE, YOU DARE DAMAGE MY PIANO?!”

Needless to say, Arthur would expect an earful from le Comte after the earful he just received from Mozart. Oh, he was definitely going to abuse his favor from MC after this.

Once the sound of their footsteps grew fainter with time, I slowly rolled out to run where no one could hear my laughter that was kept bottled up for the past 30 minutes.

I stumbled a bit as I tried to compose myself in the hallway when—

“Oi, Hondje. What are you off giggling about?”

Despite having calmed down from my previous laughing fit, recalling the past hour’s events got me doubling over in laughter again. I held up a hand as a signal to give me a minute. Theo pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about his time being precious.

“Ok, so basically…”

As I told him everything that unfolded, Theo went from facepalming to slightly shook to cracking a smile at Arthur’s demise.

“You brilliant Hondje,” he chuckled unexpectedly.

I straightened up and courtsied as dramatically as I could muster with arms outstretched.

“Why, thank you.”

His smirk straighted into a line, his eyes carrying a challenging glint, “Pull that shit on me and I won’t let you go that easy.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try to stop me,” while maintaining eye contact, I pointed a finger at his chest, “you’re next.”

MC: 1, Arthur: 0

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire mozart #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp mozart #Theo guest appearance #protect your pancakes theo #cuz you're next #and MC doesn't back down from a challenge #to be continued!!#alby one-shots #MC Pranks

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Note

Whump Prompt emojis:

🎧 for Virgil

And

🎁 for Scott

Stolen Senses

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Virgil, Scott

🎧 sensory deprivation 🎁 given as a gift

I've not written sensory deprivation before, so this was a fun challenge to poke at. This particular combination of prompts was also very intriguing, but I think I managed to get them both in.

Been a little while now since I last wrote Virgil's pov, too. Well, practice is always good :D

Whumpy Prompt List

True silence was terrifying. There was nothing, not even the sound of his breathing or the throbbing of his heartbeat. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Virgil didn’t know how long he’d been there. Didn’t know how long it had been since chains had snapped around his wrists, too short to reach the noise-cancelling headphones clasped tightly over his ears.

The blackness, an absence of both light and colour, made it even worse. He couldn’t feel a blindfold – his eyes were open and he could flick them around – but there was no penetrating the black, black darkness engulfing them.

Breathing was a challenge. Virgil worked with light, with colour and sound and the smell of freshly oiled machinery. To have none of them made his chest stutter and heave out of rhythm, the darkness a suffocating presence and the silence a noose around his neck.

He had no idea how long he’d been there. Not long enough for anyone to come bearing food or drink, although his body craved both when it wasn’t busy shying away from the lack of anything, lack of life in his vicinity.

Intellectually, he knew he was wheezing. He was sweating, shaking, weak and terrified and trapped. He could feel the tightness in his throat as the air forced itself past at an accelerated rate, but he couldn’t hear it.

He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see anything, either.

He barely remembered how he’d ended up there, either. It hadn’t been a rescue. An art exhibition, perhaps, or maybe a concert? It didn’t matter anyway, not when he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, could only feel cold steel ringing his wrists and jerking his arms to a halt if he moved them too far.

At least he had something to feel, he supposed, although that was far from enough to stop the ever-rising instinctual panic that came from having his two most valued, most relied-upon, senses stripped from him.

His throat was dry and parched. Surely they’d bring him water soon – whoever ‘they’ were – unless they wanted him to die a slow and painful death?

Virgil shuddered at the thought, feeling his chest wracked with violent trembles and knowing that if that was the case, there was nothing he could do about it.

Never see the sky again. Never hear the songs of the birds and the swell of the ocean in the bay. Nothing except this endless vacuum. Never hold another paintbrush, nor brush fingertips lightly across ivory keys.

There was salt in his mouth and a tightness to his cheeks, but still no matter how much his chest heaved and stuttered, there was no sound. No matter how much he contorted, the headphones stayed firmly out of reach.

His silent gasps grew faster still, drowning in desperation, in the realisation that there was no way out. Virgil needed the sunlight, neededthe sounds of nature and his brothers, but the cold, harsh steel and unforgiving darkness told him that they were nothing but a distant, rapidly-fading, memory.

Bright, retina-searing light flashed into existence and he knew he screamed, could feel the tremble of his vocal cords and the reflex of a widely-opened mouth. Eyes clenched shut against the sudden exposure, hot tears leaking across his lashes and crawling down his face.

He still couldn’t hear, and bright light was better than no light, so he forced himself to open his eyes into a squint, just barely enough to see past the bright.

Something landed in front of him, eerily silent for its mass, and it took Virgil’s abused eyes a moment to associate it as human-sized. Human-shaped.

A human.

They were limp and unmoving, a stark silhouette of black against the bright, bright lights, and Virgil’s instincts kicked in. Vaguely, he was aware that this was just a distraction for his mind, and that his reasons for edging forwards and tentatively reaching out for the blurred, indistinct figure were actually selfish ones, but he dismissed those thoughts and realisation because distraction or not, they needed help.

There was a bow, of all things, tied around their neck. Tightly tied, leaving red imprints in the skin where the fine silk had slipped. A garishly glamorous gift tag was attached, and Virgil’s trembling, chain-captured hands took multiple attempts before managing to catch hold of it and turn it around so that the writing was visible.

Eyes watering, Virgil could barely read the ink, and he furiously blinked away the moisture until the words stopped swimming on the page and became marginally legible.

Enjoy, it said, in large, thick black letters. There was nothing else that he could see, and with clenched teeth Virgil turned his attention back to the too-tight ribbon itself. His fingers still trembled, fumbling the knot several times before he finally got the purchase and grip to yank it free, exposing skin mottled black and blue.

The bruising continued, down over muscular shoulders and under a torn t-shirt, and up the throat, along the jaw and marring their- his face.

Virgil didn’t know if his voice made a sound as he screamed again, although this time he knew his lips were shaping a name.

Scott! Despite everything, his brother’s appearance was unmistakable. His eyes were closed and he didn’t stir, no matter how much Virgil tried to rouse him.

He had a pulse, though. Thin and thready and nothing reassuring, except that it was there. Virgil could feel his brother’s life beneath his fingertips, and it was enough to make him cry again.

Why was Scott here? How long had Scott been here? Why was Scott in such a terrible state when Virgil had barely been touched?

He had answers for none of those questions, and still couldn’t reach his hands high enough to yank the infernal headphones off of his ears. He could reach Scott, though, and tentatively pulled his unresponsive brother closer until his head was in his lap.

Wake up, Scott, he begged, needing his big brother to be okay even though he clearly wasn’t. Needing Scott to fuss and yank off the infernal headphones before telling him that there was a plan in place, that they’d be out of there in no time, as long as Virgil trusted him.

Virgil always trusted Scott.

The light disappeared as quickly as it had come, plunging him into utter darkness again. He – they – had to be underground to get such complete inky black, and Virgil’s fingers unconsciously curled in Scott’s matted hair.

Scott’s presence grounded him a little, gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the dark or the silence, and Virgil clung to that, clung to his brother like a life raft in an ocean of turmoil. He didn’t have sight or hearing, but he had touch, and the warmth of his brother in his lap. It wasn’t enough to stop his silent gasping breathing, but it was enough to stop his mind spiralling in self-isolation.

He didn’t know how long he sat in the darkness, periodically worming his fingers down the side of Scott’s face to find the pulse point in his neck before trailing back up to bury them in his hair. His hands were in the wrong position to count the rise and fall of Scott’s chest, but his chains didn’t reach far enough to let his hands settle there, so there was no way to track the passage of time, but even unconscious, Scott was a reassuring presence.

After some time, another blinding flash of light occurred, and while his eyes reflexively squeezed shut, Virgil’s first instinct was to curl himself over Scott, clinging to him as tightly as he could. No-one was taking Scott away from him.

The pressure eased from his head suddenly, and Virgil gasped as noise flooded in, loud and overwhelming in its intensity. He could hear his own raspy breathing, rapid with an edge of hysteria that was deafening after so long in silence. There were other people around, too, saying words that were far too loud for him to even begin to decipher them, and something quiet and pained from the brother in his lap.

The chains fell away with an even worse clang, metal clinking against metal and the cool stone of the floor, and it gradually occurred to Virgil that he was, somehow, impossibly, free.

Scott was still unconscious, and tanned hands crossed his vision, heading for his brother’s throat.

Virgil snarled, lunching forwards and almost biting the fingers clean off. They wouldn’t touch Scott. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, let them.

“Virgil.” It was meant to be a whisper but his name reverberated around inside his skull, loud and destructive and painful as it clashed against the earlier silence. A whimper tore itself from his throat. “Virgil, it’s me. It’s Gordon. I’m not going to hurt either of you, I promise.”

Too many words. They merged together into a single sound, abrasive against his sensitive ears. Only two syllables stood out.

Gordon.

Virgil raised his head slowly, inch by inch, keeping himself coiled protectively around his big brother. Worried amber eyes met his, tanned skin topped off by a shock of chlorine-damaged blond hair, and his eyelids blinked.

His breathing was still loud and rasping in his ears. Too loud to talk.

A tanned hand reached for Scott again, and this time Virgil let the tanned fingers brush against his big brother’s throat.

“He’s alive,” Gordon said, still a whisper and this time Virgil’s ears could handle that. A sudden yellow light bathed Scott’s limp form, and Virgil flinched. “Looks like he’s just drugged, Virg. He’s okay.”

The light flashed again, this time over Virgil, and he groaned.

“Can you walk, Virgil?” Whatever Gordon saw, he didn’t say. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Gentle hands edged towards his arms, brushing lightly against his skin, and Virgil startled.

“Come on, big brother,” Gordon coaxed. “I can’t carry both of you.”

Common sense. Logic. Something Virgil would have realised for himself if he wasn’t so distracted by everything.

He shifted, instinctively pulling Scott closer even as he tried to get his feet under him. They were uncooperative, mostly asleep and full of pins and needles at best.

Virgil didn’t even get as far as one knee before he stumbled, crashing down to the ground again and curling protectively around Scott.

“Virgil!” Gordon called, too loud for his ears to comfortably handle, and he curled up tighter, almost into the foetal position.

He knew he had to move. They had to get out of wherever they were, back to natural light and birdsong and everything else Virgil had missed. But he was exhausted; mentally drained as much as physically, his limit came knocking.

With the knowledge that Gordon was hanging around and humouring him, Virgil finally felt safe. With safety came willing exhaustion, and the delayed backlash of everything.

It was just easier to coil around Scott and close his eyes properly against the bright lights streaming in and around the place. Easier to leave the thinking and logistics to Gordon this time.

He didn’t notice when unconsciousness claimed him.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #gordon tracy #drabbles #thunderangst #thunderwhump #janetm74 #stolen senses

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readerinsertfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Love Denied

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Mitsuhide Akechi

Prompt: Sometimes I get a random strike of inspiration when reading headcanons by others. This time this set of headcanons about a Rejected!MC and Jealous!Warlords inspired me to write this piece. Though, it isn’t as happy as the headcanons are. This one is rather cold and hurting.

A/N: I’m failing really hard at my SS countdown, but I just felt like writing something angsty for once? Been a while, so sorry to break the fluffy streak! Kyubei update coming Friday and I’m also still working hard on all of the other series should someone wonder. I’m still a multi-fandom blog despite all of the Ikemen nonsense I have been posting.

There was a cruelty within that came in the form of kindness. A gentle smile, forming polite words, the distance kept between. Mitsuhide knew well enough that these were all an act, that behind that small façade of gentility and tranquility there was a scrutinising mind just like his own. One that understood and had experienced the cruelty of the world, though not in the same amount, or even in the same manner, but enough so to understand and see through the façade of peace many held up and played along until time came near.

It was for that reason that the man had never expected you to develop these feelings professed now. Surely, he believed, you of all people surrounding them would understand why it was a bad idea to come to love him? The rumours suggested enough alone, but you didn’t need rumours to understand his smile and call it out for what it was. It was why he believed you had kept appropriate distance from him, or why he found it so easy to converse with you. For there was little need to hide any malice when both parties already was aware of that darkness in their character.

And yet you had uttered them, so very easily. With a smile on your face, looking more beautiful than usual, perhaps because of the sheer sincerity and openness in which you had presented yourself. Despite the vulnerability you had shown. You had stood in front of him and uttered these three exact words he had hoped for, longed for, but didn’t dare to express;

“I love you.”

A simple statement, sincere emotions and with anyone else Mitsuhide would have cruelly teased them, gotten up and close to ‘test’ out their feelings and see how much there would be left to remain were he to show himself at his darkest.

He didn’t. He knew he had no need to do that with you. You and him were alike in that matter, or so he had always understood. It was the reason for the distance between you. The reason why he could so easily converse with you. The very foundation for the pressed smiles exchanged and the polite façade that stood like a wall between. It was the tug-of-war between you two in which he tried to lure you out and in which you challenged him, the same competition in which he found that he returned the sentiments you shared but had decided never to express.

“I’m afraid someone like me is incapable of sincere emotions such as love,” he responded, knowing that he didn’t need that weakness, shutting down his heart, silencing the emotions welling up, telling his mind that this was for the best. There were a hundred arguments why it was so against the single wish that screamed loudest of all. He could do nothing with wishes. There was nothing but weakness in his emotions. Mitsuhide Akechi, self-proclaimed satori, crowned kitsune, needed none of that nonsense swirling around him that could work as a deterrent against his plans.

Before he could say more, before he could hammer down the last nail in which he was sure to destroy your feelings, you interrupted, never faltering as you raised your hand.

“I’m not confessing with that intention.”

The statement strikes him as strange, his eyes narrowing as the warlord wonders why you seemed so unusually strong despite having bared your heart right in front of him. Did you not fear the insult he would make of you? Did you not fear the pain of rejection?

The continuation of your voice supplied the answer he sought; “I want you to know, so that you are aware that my actions towards you might be insincere, for that’s what love is; insincere, pretentious, ugly and selfish.”

The smile flashed at him surprises him all the more, and for a moment the man has no idea how to react. Your feelings made him happy, the happiest man alive, but your dismissal of your emotions tore him up inside. He couldn’t disagree, for he found truth in the words, he agreed even, it was the sole reason why he never wished to confess. For he knew that once he did he wouldn’t be able to keep away from you. Yet, you had so easily done so and with that, in one strike, you had discarded them as well, right in front of him.

Was this cruelty aimed against him, or yourself? Mitsuhide wondered who it was you wished to hurt more by speaking these words. To reveal your heart and at the same time stomp upon them, it hurt him, for if he could he would guard it with everything he had, even if it meant having to stomp on it himself. But to see you do it yourself, right in front of him, that was the cruelest of all, for it not only hurt you, but him as well.

“Well, now I know. How lucky you are that I seem incapable of returning it, not?”

He smiles back at you, his lips curling up into an insincere smirk that he had flashed you so many times before, but never before had it hurt so much to make that face. Never before had it been this difficult to keep up his own façade as he watches you hold yourself up, firm and fierce and with all of the determination. You were the epitome of strength despite the vulnerability shown.

Mitsuhide realised in that moment why it was that he found you so beautiful in that moment. Why it was that your smile captivated him more than it had ever before. It was the sincerity in the curve of your lip, the sensitivity within, the vulnerability shown, so openly, but fearlessly. You had embraced yourself and wielded your emotions like a weapon in a time and era in which that was seen as a death sentence. It was right here, standing in front of you that Mitsuhide Akechi, master manipulator, king of lies and the nightmare of each prisoner, learnt of a new weapon that he hadn’t considered before.

How cruel your kindness felt to him in informing the man of your feelings and discarding them at the same time.

#ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide x reader #mitsuhide akechi #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #ikesen #ikesen x reader #ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku x reader

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Unexpected

Summary: Accidental relationships are the worst.

Author's note: A silly little drabble(it's like 5k so idk if it's a drabble lol) I created based on an image @prodmina made for me, this is not related to BMTL at all-it's just a side dish I'm offering to my Junjin lovers. A few days ago we both noticed that these two don't really get much fluff without some angst(I'm guilty of this too so no judgement just an observation) Hence this was created, it's just a one-shot because this idea wouldn't leave my mind. This community is well fed but here's some more food for the hungry. And yes my page break this time is Sujin's sexy leg, I have no regrets.

They've been in the same school for as long as she can remember, her striving to be the best student only second to one and him seemingly showing up to drool on the nearest surface and give the female population heart palpitations. She's thankfully not one of his victims- having actual standards and a fully functional hippocampus; ergo while most girls are drawing hearts on their notebooks with Han Seojun opposite their name, she is turning her nose up at them judging them for their lack of foresight. A pretty face would only last for so long.

They stay out of each other's way, the only thing they have in common is Lee Suho- her childhood friend of many years and his best friends despite their varied differences. She and Suho haven't been spending much time together ever since she moved out with her mother, but he was still one of her oldest friend and someone she cared about. Long story short, they both spent years imprisoned with a monster and now they were free.

Her life was looking brighter, more technicolor and staying away from a thug like Han Seojun was only adding to its quality.

Which is why she's dumbfounded when they run into each other, at the most inopportune of time. She's walking home after her academy classes, being a pediatrician isn't going to be child's play and she has to take every possible advantage to make her dreams a reality. Without her father’s money backing her she has to accomplish this with her own merits, she is looking forward to proving him wrong.

Airpods in, she doesn't notice the group stalking her until it's too late. One by one they begin to surround her, leering at her body like she's a piece of meat on display- it makes the hairs on the nape of her neck raise in trepidation and disgust.

"Isn't it too late for a pretty girl like you to be wandering all alone outside?" The one she assumes is the leader croons, voice dripping in faux concern as he rubs his hands resembling a villian out of a 1940′s comic book.

She immediately begins to catalog how many of them there are, strategizing the best way to take them down. Fifteen of them. She can't fight them all, the best she can do is distract a few and make a run for it.

"Isn't it too early for vermin like you to be wandering the streets?" She replies snidely, rolling her eyes when they all whistle at her jab. This is such a pathetic end to her day, it's honestly beneath her.

"I'll make you regret that comment, you bitch!" Already with the name calling, this guy really was a cartoon villian and he couldn't even construct something creative to call her. instead choosing the most generic insult in the book. With a sigh she moves into a fighting position, fists raised guarding her face and legs apart.

"Let's just get this over with, you're sucking up all the air with that snout you call a nose." All she sees is his sneer and eyes huge in rage before he lunges at her, his movements are so predictable and she sidesteps kicking at the back of his knee swiftly. Then she grabs another arm that comes flying at her face cruelly twisting and flipping him over her body, his groan of pain music to her ears. She easily taking them out without breaking much of a sweat, she had been fighting since she was young and they were all clearly not trained fighters, just bumbling idiots playing gangster.

But then she hears the cold metallic click of a knife uncoiling. A shiver races down her spine. They really were low-lives, she hadn’t expected them to actually pull out a weapon.

"You need a knife to take on one girl? Can you even call yourself a gang?" The words are exactly the ones that are in her brain but she's not the one who utters them, a new voice has entered the fray. A familiar voice at that.

This day just keeps getting worst.

"Han Seojun, how about you mind your business we found her first she's ou--"

The rodent looking asshole never gets to finish his sentence as her leg comes flying at his face as she executes a perfect roundhouse kick, slicing through the air and landing devastating blow on his cheek sending him flying to the ground in a heap.

"Damn Sujin! And you call me a thug! I think you killed him." Seojun cries sputtering in disbelief motioning at the motionless body on the ground but she notes the impressed raise of his eyebrow. Like she needs him approval.

While the rest of the band of idiots are helping up their leader she realizes this is her chance, without a word to Seojun she takes off running. Easily jumping over one of her fallen attackers and stepping on his shoulder for momentum, he cries at her harsh treatment.

Turning back she sees Seojun deck a guy in the face knocking him out before he starts chasing after her, his long legs eating up the gap between them in no time, she's temporarily grateful that he's not the one chasing her the damn beanpole.

"Are you secretly a ninja or something?" She snorts at his terrified face, chucking when he keeps looking waiting for an answer as if he truly believes she might be. Nosy idiot.

"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you." She answers straight faced, watching as horror blossoms on his face and her musical laughter saturates the streets as she runs faster, he shakes his head at her smirking in reply.

It's the beginning of the end, but she had no idea.

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Somehow it becomes the catalyst they need to break the seal between them, she expects everything to go back to its rightful place- them ignoring the other’s presence as they've always done and only speaking when they had something rude to say, their normal. But as she's walking in the hallway she hears him shouting her name behind her, immediately all eyes in the hallway dart to them.

"Kang Sujin! Yah! I'm talking to you!" He garners the attention of everyone in the vicinity and she turns around, annoyance purposely all over her face. He needs to know that she is not amused with him.

"Yeah, people across town can hear you. What do you want?"

"Are you calling me loud?" He cries defiantly, obnoxiously even louder than before. The smirk on his face letting her know that it’s intentional, she aches to kick it off his face.

"Is the sky blue?" She sarcastically responds, waiting for him to catch up as they walk side by side.

"A better analogy to use would be is Han Seojun handsome?" She gags as he starts posing with a finger under his chin, in the distance she can hear high pitched squeals of his name.

She picks up her pace, regretting even giving him a moment of her time. She must have lost her mind for a moment, it wouldn’t happen again.

"No wonder you're single. Who could compete with your love for yourself? I have something to do so I'll leave first." She doesn't wait for his response, leaving to do nothing but that's none of his business.

But it doesn't end there, they just keep orbiting into each other. Their groups converging at lunch and when the boys are having a heated argument about who's the best character on Dragon Ball Z, they both passionately shout out "Vegeta!!" In unison making everyone turn to face them in shock that they've agreed on something. They stare at each other as flabbergasted before Seojun pushes his hand out, palm flat and expectant look on his face.

She simply stares back blankly, considering leaving him hanging just to see that stupid offended look he always gets around her but in the end she slaps her hand firmly against his, at least he was smart enough to know that Saiyan prince was the best.

Clap!

"Someone mark it on a calendar! Seojun and Sujin agreed on something!" Su-ah exclaims clapping her hands and smiling brightly, they both argue when several members at the table pull out their phones to commemorate the special occasion. She wrestles with Jukyeong, who's surprisingly strong and breaks free from her hold while sticking her tongue out.

"You're all so annoying!" They both explode again simultaneously, Seojun hanging off Chorong's arm as he tries to confiscate his phone, she glares at him for giving them another reason to laugh at them and Su-ah cheerily calls out, "Add that to the calendar too, they're so in sync!"

It's the worst lunch of her life, she kicks Seojun under the table. This was all his fault. Glaring when he kicks her back and they end up kicking each other until the period ends, oblivious to the stares around them.

At the end of the day she's eager to go home and do nothing, which is exactly when she feels someone tugging at her backpack forcefully dragging her backwards.

"Yah! Let go of me!" She cries out, slipping her arms out of her bag and turning around in a fighting position.

"At ease super soldier, it's just me." He replies as if that means anything, but she does lower her fists; marginally. To let him know she's ready to go at any minute.

"What do you want now?" She grumbles peering up at him and when he turns walking away with her backpack still in his arms, she chases after for that reason alone.

"I'm going to the arcade. They have the new Dragon Ball Z game."

She should go home and study, she promised herself she would review her notes from class today. She couldn't afford to slack off if she wanted a good life after all.

She opens her lips to say all of this, to remind him that they can't all be pretty boy models like him some of them actually had to work for a living but instead she hears, "Fine. You're buying me something to eat."

He begrudgingly agrees after complaining, "Aren't you rich? Why do I have to buy you food?" She skips off ignoring his rationale, only stopping when she sees his motorcycle parked in the lot. She's always wanted to ride a motorcycle.

"Let's take your bike." She says confidently, not leaving him any room to refuse.

He looks at her unimpressed before a cheeky smile spreads across his face, "You've always wanted to ride with me huh? Do you have dreams about it at night?" He teases her and she lazily watches him before walking up to him, looking directly into his eyes. He unconsciously takes a step back and she smirks, stepping closer again.

" Are you nervous? Scared I might really be having dreams about you?" She watches his Adam's apple bob apprehensively before smacking him quickly on his cheek, he jolts in surprise.

"You wish pretty boy. Now get the keys, I don't have all day."

He gulps before snapping back to reality, wordlessly starting his bike.

The entire school watches as they ride off together, her arms wrapped tight around his waist the wind whipping through her hair. She's never felt anything so exhilarating.

Their lives become entangled, it's the only way to describe it somewhat accurately. She goes to his house for weekly dinners and sometimes her mom comes too, his mom is a great cook while hers can barely boil water. It's a win-win scenario. They also study together, his grades aren't horrific but they could be better. There isn't much ceremony, he stomps over telling some boy he needs that seat and she watches as the poor kid scrambles, grabbing all his book and running away apologizing the entire way.

"You have good grades right?" He says matter-of-fact less of a question and more of a statement before he pulls out actual textbooks from his bag. She rolls her eyes before nodding and turning back to her own studies. They study every Tuesday and Wednesday, he's always on time and treats her to tteokbokki. so she allows this transgression.

She knows immediately why he asked for help when she sees his math test magnetized to his refrigerator door, big red A- circled. His mother brags about his score all throughout dinner, even cheering for her when Seojun informs her that she got an A+ on the same assignment. They both blush as she gushes about how smart they are.

When the nightmares get too realistic and she can’t handle it alone anymore, he drops her off to therapy sessions and brings her to the gym after so she can release all her anger on a punching bag. He never asks her what's wrong but he drops her home after and the silence is comfortable between them.

They both never mention their dads but she goes to the cemetery with him and stands quietly as he pays his respect and takes him to get ice cream after, the dinner with his family after is somber but she wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

They never discuss what exactly is going on between them, they're just there for each other and that's enough.

At least she thought it was.

It's stupid but ever since they became...closer he's been getting more confessions than usual even for him they pour down like rain. Multiple girls a day sometimes as if they took numbers and decided to go in order, she dodges them at every turn but there's always a tinge in her chest and she contemplates going to the nurse because there must be something medically wrong with her.

She can barely taste the fried pork as she watches another girl shuffle over to their table, giant red heart box pressed tight against her chest as she approaches Seojun. His friends all notice and are chanting his name, elbowing and shouldering him excitedly.

“Han Seojun! Han Seojun!”

Su-ah suddenly places a warm hand on her knee, she looks at her in shock. Fear gripping at her as the other girl stares at her with gentle comforting eyes. She pushes the hand away. She doesn’t need comfort, she is fine. Fine.

Her throat tightens as the confession starts.

"Han Seojun, I-I've liked you since last year. Willyougooutwithme?" This isn't new, they usually lose their nerve at the end sputtering out their feelings all over him. She never sticks around long enough to hear his answers, but this time she has no choice; if she leaves that would be suspicious. It would give people the wrong impression.

She swallows her blueberry milk, he'd tossed it at her this morning saying he bought the wrong one. Coincidentally that was her favorite. It taste like chalk now on her tongue.

"Sorry, I'm not interested." He answers truly sounding apologetic, she shifts in her seat, pointedly staring at her food. Stifling her smile by stuffing cold noodles into her mouth.

There is a long silence as the cafeteria watches, all waiting for the girl’s reaction. Usually there are tears, loud wailing cries and pleading for another chance, but sometimes they are silent as they walk off heartbroken, friends waiting to soothe them.

The girl sighs, but unlike the others who usually scurry away, she speaks again, "Can I ask why? Do you already like someone?"

A thrumming energy fills the room following her question, girls all looking around at each other, preening hopeful that they've captured the heart of the resident bad boy. She just wants this uncomfortable moment to end already, it's giving her indigestion.

"Yes. I like someone."

It feels like a sledgehammer to her chest, ignoring Su-ah's hand clutching at hers she stands up grabbing her tray. Nobody pays her any mind besides her two best friends, she weakly smiles at them, "I'm all done. I'm gonna head to the library I'll see you both later."

She tosses out her tray viciously, forcing herself not to look back.

Avoiding him isn't easy, he's always there waiting for her or texting her to ask why she isn't coming over for dinner because his mother made her favorite. She's never lied to him before but she finds herself doing just that, feigning illnesses and late night classes. Which only results in him offering to bring her soup and give her a ride to said classes. Like she said their lives were for lack of a better word, entangled.

But she sticks to it, keeping her distance from him as she tries to understand why exactly she's doing this. He's her friend she should be happy that he likes someone, he was an idiot but it was probable that the feeling was mutual. He would finally have a girlfriend, someone to fill the spot she had been temporarily occupying. Someone he could bring home for dinners and someone to accompany him at his father's grave. Someone to talk to late at nights when he had a nightmare about losing his family and couldn’t fall asleep. Someone, not her.

"I'm happy for him. I should be feeling sorry for the poor girl he likes." She whispers to herself, aimlessly scrolling on her phone. Instagram has been a great source of distraction lately. As soon as she opens the app she sees a red dot pop up, a notification. She taps it seeing that she's been tagged in a photo, then another notification pops up and another and another and they start coming in too quickly for her to keep up.

"What the hell?" She admonishes aloud, clicking randomly on one of the notifications ready to see what's causing such an uproar.

It's a picture of her.

She remembers the day clearly, Seojun had forced her to go with him to a new diner that specialized in American cuisine, all so he could stuff his face with pancakes. She had no clue he'd taken a picture of her. Something that feels butterflies flutters in her stomach as she reads his caption.

How do you get a princess to forgive you?

Was this some kind of joke? What the hell was he thinking? She bulks at all the likes and comments on the photo after only two hours, she'd never gotten that much attention on a photo but she rarely posted pictures of her face. There were a lot of creeps online.

Nervously she taps to view the comments, it's a mixed bag of reactions. Girls she's never met before cursing her very existence as if she's a threat to their imaginary relationship with him and the very same creeps that caused her not to post selfies on her page posting disgusting sexual comments.

She instinctively taps to reply to rip them to shreds before she realizes that Seojun has already replied to every comment from a guy, threatening them explicitly and a few comments are even accusing him of deleting comments. There are a few comments calling her pretty but those are few and far in between and usually they are attacked in their replies by other jealous fan girls.

Anger bubbles in her gut, what the fuck was he thinking posting a picture of her for all these vipers to see?

Impulsively she taps the screen harshly, fingers flying across her keyboard.

Delete this now. Are you insane? Who are you calling a princess?!

Almost immediately she regrets her rash decision as comments flood in.

How dare you talk to oppa like that?

Oppa see she doesn't deserve you!

Who is this snotty bitch?

You're not pretty enough to be this stuck up honestly, no offense.

You should be happy a hot guy is posting you, ungrateful.

She's tempted to reply to each comment, who did think they were talking to, she wasn't some pushover, let's see if they would have this much gall to say this to her face. She'd taken on a gang of would be thugs, she had no problem beating some sense into some bitches.

But they're not worth her time or energy.

Swiping the app close, she takes a calming breath. Counting to three. Then five. Then ten. Then twenty. When her anger is nothing but a low thrum beneath her skin, she opens her contacts going to get favorites and clicking his name, bringing her phone to her ears.

"Finished ignoring me princess?" He answers smoothly, sounding far too relaxed for all the trouble he's caused. She wants to wring his neck.

"Have you lost your mind?" She cuts to the chase, huffing angrily as her phone buzzes with more notification. "Han Seojun you better delete that picture right now!"

"You've been ignoring my calls and texts and pretending you don't see me at school. What else was I supposed to do?" She can hear the strain in his voice, but he doesn't sound angry, no that's his hurt voice.

"I've just been busy. You didn't need to do something this... extreme."

He scoffs, clearly not believing her excuse. It sounds weak to even her own ears, they'd gotten too close they made time for each other, doing the most mundane things together, he even helped her clean her house sometimes and she would regularly help him shop for groceries.

"Come open your door. I think we need to talk."

He hangs up after his statement, leaving her to stare at her phone in shock.

"That little piece of shit." She curses, running a hand through her hair before she hops out of bed, running to open her apartment door. She slows down as she nears the door, not wanting him to think her too eager. She's not.

Running her hand through her hair again, she slowly pulls open the door. A breath swooshes through her lips at the sight of him, she's been avoiding him so much it's overwhelming to be staring at him directly like this.

They stare at each other, the air unexpectedly charged between them as their gazes meet.

"It's rude to leave someone standing outside." He quips finally, pressing past her before she can reply to his complaint, she huffs in annoyance stepped aside to give him entry.

Familiarly he toes off his boots, putting on the slippers her mom had purchased for him after his presence became more constant. Then he strides across the small space of her living room, sitting on her couch and glancing at her expectantly. She closes her door with a sigh, walking over and sitting in the single love seat. He stares at her hard. She struggles to keep his gaze.

"What did I do? Whatever it is, I'm sorry. If you tell me what it is, I probably won't do it again."

She's so taken back by his immediate apology that she stupidly focuses on the least important word in the sentence, "Probably?"

He shrugs in reply, "I like pushing your buttons. You like it too. So I can’t make promises until I know what I did.”

She can't argue with his assessment, they did have a very unusual relationship built on mutual sarcasm and backhanded compliments. They both were masters of never truly saying what they were thinking or feeling, too scared of rejection to make the final jump of fate. So they just kept crashing into each other, prodding and poking without recognizing why.

"I'm not mad at you." She admits, she has no reason to be upset. He hadn't done anything besides like someone else, that wasn't a crime. Unless the judge was her heart and then he had committed the most heinous of crimes.

"Then why are you avoiding me?" The crux of it all, she was avoiding him because he forced her to acknowledge the secret she'd kept so hidden even she was unaware of it until it hit her over the head.

"Why do you care so much?" She counters defensively, feeling naked under his penetrating stare.

He laughs coldly, "Answering my question with a question. Never took you for a coward Kang Sujin."

She bristles at the snide remark, who was he to call her a coward?

"If I'm a coward why are you here? Why post my picture on your Instagram? Don't you like someone, why are you here bothering me!" She hisses at him, each word gradually increasing in volume until she's screaming at his blank face. Then he starts laughing, pure unhindered laughter from his belly that stings her ears. She made herself too obvious.

"Aren't you supposed to be smart?"

"What do you mean by tha-" He cuts her off before she can finish shouting, "How do you not know that I was talking about you?"

Her voice drains like water slipping down a sink as she hears the words he said, she blinks before her mouth falls open in shock.

"Was I really letting you tutor me? What was I thinking?" He laments to the ceiling, mocking her but she's too riled up now already climbing out of her seat and striding over to him. He jolts backwards as she places her hands on his shoulders, searching his face and delighting at his wide eyes before climbing into his lap. He wheezes but his hand immediately latch onto her hips. She stares at him closely, eyes trailing from his hypnotic eyes, down to his lifted pert nose and lingering on his full plush lips.

"You like me." She states, watching how his eyes flutter shut before landing on her own lips.

"I thought it was very clear. Who else could I have been talking about, I spend all my time with you."

He's right, they did spend a lot of time together prior to her self-preserving decision to avoid him like the plague. She hadn't realized when her feelings for him had changed, thinking they were simply friends the entire time. A friend that she thought about constantly, who she wanted to spend all her time with and sometimes she's idly imagine kissing or holding his hand. She certainly hasn't expected anything.

But here he was offering. She wasn’t a good enough person to turn it down.

"I'm going to kiss you. Stop me if you don't want that." She states boldly, now that she knows this is on the table, he's on the table she is practically starving and all her doubts have transformed into the desire, the desire to touch and be touched. He glances at her, his patented 'are you stupid?' stare and she laughs before smashing their lips together. It's hard and a little uncomfortable, with their lips just roughly pressed together and she wonders if they're doing it right before his hands stroke her cheeks, tilting her head as he slows down the kiss until it's sweeter and softer and oh, is that his tongue? He swipes at her sealed lips and she only hesitates for a moment before slowly opening and allowing him entrance.

This takes the kiss to another level, as her head swims at his flavor- something spicy and earthy irrevocably Seojun that she finds addicting and she eagerly sticks her tongue into his mouth, licking at his moist cavern. Wet smacks fill the air as they suck at each other's face, his large hands nearly circling her waist entirely she shivers at the touch, feeling small and delicate in his arms. He reaches up a hand to caress her hair and she mimics the move, pushing her hand through his thick hair tugging at the end of his mullet. When they break apart, panting into each other's mouths she feels like her soul has been set ablaze.

"Since you're so smart I guess I don't have to tell you how I feel." She says trying to regain her composure and her breath, her lungs feel winded like she's run a marathon.

"Of course not. Everyone likes me, you're no exception." He replies cockily and she groans in exaggerated disgust pushing him away and clamoring out of his lap, but he tightens his grip with a deep chuckle easily manhandling her until they are laying on her couch, her back to his front. His breath is hot on her neck.

"My mom will be home soon, we can't stay like this." She warns reaching back to move his arm which is digging into her back, dragging his arm over her waist and squirming until she's comfortable.

"I know. We still have an hour. She's working overtime tonight."

Of course he knows her mom's schedule, she tries to smother her smile. She fails but nobody seems so she'll take it as a partial victory.

He reaches over her, grabbing the remote before switching on Netflix and putting on a movie they'd started before but never finished because she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He had complained about her drooling on his favorite sweater the next day at school, as she shushed him and people looked over at the odd pair.

"You're gonna delete that picture right?" She asks, only barely focused on the movie too distracted by his warmth behind her. She has to smother a moan when he starts stroking aimlessly on her waist. His fingertips igniting her skin in a warm burn that travels to her heart and lower.

"Humph why can't I have a picture of my girlfriend on my page?"

She turns around immediately, "Girlfriend? Who said anything about that," she rebuttals watching his eyes narrow until they're barely slits. She doesn't hate that look on him.

"You kiss someone who isn't your boyfriend like that?" She blushes at him mentioning that, the kiss still very vivid in her mind, her lips still tingling.

"Shut up." She huffs punching him in the chest, but he catches her hand and yanks her close until they're chest to chest, noses almost touching, lips a hair's breadth apart.

"I'm going to kiss my girlfriend, stop me if you don't want it." He echoes her earlier words, gripping the back of her head as he stares at her a clear challenge, smirking when she doesn't move away before he devours her lips again. She groans around his tongue in her mouth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as their lips slide wetly against each other.

When the jingle of keys sound several minutes later, she tumbles off the couch frantically as her mom pushes the door open. She wipes her lips, before looking up at Seojun; he looks wrecked- hair tussled and sticking up in different directions, his cheeks are burning red looking hot to the touch and his lips are sore and wet. Her heart does a somersault in her chest at the sight.

Fuck. That's my boyfriend.

She lets him keep the photo on his account in the end, it keeps the hungry fan girls away and guys leave her alone for the most apart. She ignores his smirk when he sees her comment under the photo.

To everyone who has something to say, Han Seojun is mine. If you have a problem with that, come say it to my face.

Nobody ever comes to say it to her face.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous princess.” He teases her, and she scoffs at him, “You’re one to talk, didn’t you almost get into a fist fight today because someone commented that they wanted to ‘tap that’?”

He growls at the memory of that, only the principal strolling in had stopped him.

“You guys are perfect for each other, both deadly and gorgeous.” Su-ah adds gleefully pushing her way between them and linking arms on both sides.

She pushes his hand away when he immediately reaches for her, “Yah! Give me back my girlfriend!” He whines desperately trying to circumvent Su-ah and grab her hand, whining loudly about third wheels and people trying to get in the way of true love.

She’ll never get tired of hearing that.

She was Han Seojun's girlfriend and he was her boyfriend, everyone could stay mad.

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #han seojun #kang sujin #junjin #junjin superiority #the power they hold #I would kill for a season 2 focused on them #fluff #first kiss #park yoona #hwang inyeop #idiots to usdiots

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lonelyghosts-stuff · 4 years

Text

Peppermint and Pinewood

Peppermint and Pinewood (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Premise:

Draco Malfoy x muggleborn, Slytherin! Reader

Although the time setting isn’t too important, I envisioned it taking place somewhere in the fifth year.

Warnings: none really? I mean, I guess bullying, mild angst, and fluff lol. I dunno if Draco goes a little off-canon character wise here but I tried to make his personality as close to the source material as possible.

Word count: 4,581

Note: This is my first ever fan fiction I’ve ever written so yea.

Read it on wattpad too:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/244556691-peppermint-and-pinewood

It was another bad day. After getting yet another berating from Snape due to putting one too many dried lavender flowers in the Calming Draught potion and subsequently losing five house points from Slytherin, y/n found herself once again the target of insults and sneers. As if being a muggle born placed in Slytherin wasn't bad enough, it seems like every single mistake made, no matter how simple or innocent it may have been, was held against her as if it was the highest insult to the wizarding world.

Following a long walk down the hallway to her next class, a cold and judgmental presence drew near. With his steely gray eyes, Draco Malfoy looked down upon y/n.

"Well well... looks like the mudblood lost us even more points! As if it wasn't enough of a plague upon wizard kind and the Slytherin House to have a mudblood part of it..." Draco leaned in towards y/n towering over her by at least 15cm (about 6 inches rounded up) and continued "we have to further suffer your utter lack of any practical skills in class. I mean, bloody hell y/l/n! We've been learning the calming draught for what, the past three days? And you still managed to screw that up. If it was up to me, your kind wouldn't even be allowed in the magical world much less Hogwarts; as pathetic as this school is."

After the cacophony of insults and belittlement, Draco continued onward, gesturing his cronies to follow...

Only, they didn't follow right away. Crabbe and Goyle decided that it was their time to shine and decided to push y/n around, knowing full well she wouldn't do anything to stop them. With some rude comments and pathetic chittering of a laugh, Crabbe gave y/n one final shove sending her onto the ground and spilling out her supplies including books, quills, and a jar of ink. Despite the squawking coming from Crabbe and Goyle, Draco looked more bemused than anything. While he should be laughing at a lowly mud blood getting what they deserved, he felt empty. He almost pitied y/l/n.

"Crabbe, Goyle, hurry up or we'll be late to D.A.D.A. and I sure as hell am not losing any house points because of you buffoons." Draco demanded, leaving y/n on the ground, scurrying to clean up the mess.

Eventually one Slytherin classmate and their Hufflepuff friend spotted y/n and helped her clean up.

"Scourgify! There you go! All better now!" The Hufflepuff chirped as the Slytherin handed y/n the last of her things.

"Are you sure you simply tripped and fell?" The Slytherin doubted y/n's story. "I mean, you aren't the most popular nor liked in Slytherin."

"Oh uh yea. I know where you're coming from but I promise it was just a little trip. Just me being clumsy is all!" Y/n fumbled through her response. "But thanks for the concern Mallory!"

Mallory was one of the few Slytherins who didn't despise y/n for her blood status. Coming from a home where her dad is a wizard and her mom's a muggle, not even muggle born, she found herself sympathizing with y/n.

"Hey y/n, promise us you'll come for help if you really need it, okay?" Susan Bones the Hufflepuff, a caring and hardworking witch who, while maybe initially coming across as weak and a pushover, is not one who is past fighting someone in order to defend her friends.

"Yea yea I promise I promise." Y/n chuckled. If only Mallory was in y/n's dorm room. Things would be a lot better for sure.

After a couple more minutes of reassuring Mallory and Susan that she was alright, y/n begrudgingly made her way to her next class with her fellow housemates of the same year, Defense Against the Dark Arts. While not her particular favorite due to the inconsistency of the instructors, y/n found herself enjoying D.A.D.A. more than most classes due to not only the wide variety of skills and spells learned, but the hands on approach of applying said new skills in practical situations. It was certainly a sight to behold when she transformed her boggart from Voldemort to a mere Pansy Parkinson, shackled by her ankles no doubt by Filch. Of course this only earned y/n more nasty comments hurled her way as well as an unappreciated "gift" from an owl left on her bed, but y/n felt that the site was worth it nonetheless.

D.A.D.A. was unfortunately highly uneventful that day as the class merely reviewed the basic defensive and combative spells from previous years (a shocking amount of students performed poorly on the review exam and thus the whole class had to suffer). On her way out of the class, y/n was met by another Slytherin, none other than the she-devil herself, Pansy Parkinson. As if on cue, the moment y/n stepped out of the classroom and was out of sight of any faculty, y/n was roughly pulled by the hand and pushed into the neighboring, empty classroom by Pany who promptly closed the door behind her, holding it shut.

"Hey let me out of here! Pansy you downright insufferable git!" Y/n burst out, an uncommon instance that was released due to pent up rage from days of harassment.

"Nuh uh! Maybe when you learn your lesson that Draco is mine and you'll neeeveeer be more than a pathetic, weak, and intolerable mudblood!" Pansy chortled in a sing-songy voice.

"Pansy I swear to Merlin..." y/n started before stopping themself to recompose and calm down. "Pansy, I'm asking nicely... please, open the door. I have no clue what you are talking about with Draco, but you don't need to worry. I want nothing to do with that cocky, rude, hair-gelling bastard, okay?!"

"Augh?! You think that pathetic excuse for an apology is gonna cut it? Nuh uh! Maybe you need some more time alone to think about your actions, y/l/n. Colloportus!" And with that, y/n heard the doors click locked, Pansy mumble the anti-alohomora charm, and the ever fading footsteps of Pansy proudly striding away.

Feeling all of her built up emotion come to a boil, y/n allowed herself to blow some steam off while she was alone. Casting one destructive spell after another, the classroom suffered greatly from the y/n’s rage.

"BOMBARDA! STUPEFY! DIFFINDO! INCENDIO!" Y/n proclaimed with much fervor before stepping back in fear.

The last spell carelessly cast quickly caught the ratted tapestry curtains over the windows, sending them ablaze. In the panic, y/n stumbled back to the door before pounding on it wildly for help. Fortunately for her, her absence in her next class and last class of the day was reported and McGonagall was passing by to look for her. Quickly reversing the rushed anti-alohomora charm on the door and then following up by unlocking it, the door swung open as y/n fell through, almost onto the ground before catching herself.

After extinguishing the fire with a quick flick of her wand and a mutter of 'aguamenti' and long winded conversation filled with explanations, denial, and intense pleading, McGonagall decided it was in the best interest to remove 100 points from Slytherin for the utter lack of safety and human decency.

Of course this didn't go well for y/n. That evening she found herself locked out of her own dorm room as her roommates found the blame for the points lost resting solely on y/n. Making her way to the empty common room, y/n sat on one of the couches in front of the green, crackling fire. Equipped with nothing outside of her button up, vest, and pants, y/n used her robe as a blanket and cuddled up on the couch.

At that moment, y/n's bottled up emotion overflowed and she sobbed into the couch cushion. Feeling more like a burden than a human, y/n repeated in her head the insults she's heard many times. "Hinderance. Pathetic. Weak. Worthless..." she choked out between sobs. "Filthy... little... mudblood."

Before y/n could even get one wink of sleep, a door creaked open revealing the prince of Slytherin himself, Draco. Only, unlike most other times, Draco was sans henchmen. Presumably, Draco snuck out for one reason or another and was only returning about now. As Draco stepped into the light, he noticed a covered figure on the couch. Draco glimpsed at y/n h/l h/c hair, quickly deducing it was y/n.

"What are you doing out here this late, y/l/n?" Interrogated Draco. "Shouldn't you be in your room?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Wandering about this late at night, you could lose us house points or worse depending on what suspicious activities you are into." Y/n mumbled as she tried to tune out the excess noise, not caring anymore about how she responded to Draco.

"Harsh, but fair." Draco let out a rare chuckle.

For some reason, hearing Draco chuckle sent warm tingles throughout her body from one hand to another. This is just barely a fraction of a side of Draco she wished she could see all the time. Before getting too caught up in daydreams, y/n remembered it was Draco's fault in the first place that she's even locked out of her room at all.

"Well, to put it short, I'm still a, as you say, a filthy mudblood and it would appear as if torturing me and locking me in an abandoned classroom wasn't enough for them so they decided to lock me out of our own room." Y/n vented with both a sense of exasperated relief as Draco stood silently, stiff as a board, as if he was shocked as to what he was hearing.

Draco took a moment to drink in y/n. Her e/c eyes, red and glossy from tormented crying. Even in this state she was still breathtaking. Wait, what? Breathtaking? Draco suddenly forgot how to speak as his mind raced from his sudden observation. She's not pretty, right? She's just a muggle born, a disgrace to the wizarding world! Is that all she is though? And only a muggle born, not a mudblood? Draco panicked internally for a brief moment before finally recollecting himself and regaining his composure.

"Oh." Was all Draco could manage at the moment. Appearing deep in thought, Draco organized a response. "As much as I would love to hear more of your life problems, I have a room to go back to. So... um... good night..."

Draco awkwardly turned around and shuffled towards his room, pausing only for a brief moment and throwing a quick glance over his shoulder as if he was contemplating something. He quickly shook off any feeling of turning back and entered his room for the night.

The school year progressed without much of anything significant happening outside of the common bullying and stress of the holidays approaching. It was almost winter break and, as usual, y/n would be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. Her parents always took a long vacation over Christmas break and figured they would save money by leaving y/n at school where she would still get food and housing without them having to pay for an extra plane ticket. Y/n didn't mind too much. She had always been pretty independent from her parents, but she loved them nonetheless. They all loved each other but they weren't very affectionate about it, a factor that probably contributed to her apathetic approach to most things. While always hopeful to be invited to one of her parents annual holidays, y/n also looked forward to the more or less peace and quiet of having the common room and school mostly to herself with the exception of the other few students who also remained for the holidays.

Unbeknownst to y/n, ever since their interaction at night in the common room, Draco has been secretly watching her. While seeing her in such a devastated state should logically make him happy as she is only a muggle born, Draco felt anything but happy. It was almost like looking into a mirror for him, seeing her broken. It reminded him of his many nights of anxiety and depression after getting an earful from his father about how he wasn't "good enough" or constantly feeling inadequate compared to the "chosen one", Potter. From that moment on, Draco avoided y/n. Y/n didn't really think anything of it except that she appreciated the extended periods of peace and silence between the other students' insults. This of course only prompted Crabbe and Goyle to try to make up for their ring leader's apparent avoidance and growing distaste of picking on y/n. Fortunately for y/n however, Crabbe and Goyle were quite dim witted and easy to outsmart or avoid. Another development for y/n was that, after her time in the abandoned classroom allowing her to let off some steam, followed by her mini rant to Draco, she found herself able to stand up for herself a bit more, much to the chagrin of Pansy Parkinson. Now when Pansy strode up to y/n with a cocky and mischievous smirk plastered on her face, y/n simply looked on with a strong and unavoidable expression of mere annoyance and anticipation of disappointment. Pansy would try to insult y/n only for y/n to retort with a simple motion of dismissal or a clever comeback.

"Well if it isn't the local mudblood of Slytherin!" Pansy would shout with falsely placed pride.

"Well if it isn't the local tramp of Slytherin!" Y/n would respond with a mock curtsy. "What an absolute honor to be in your presence. Oh, and of course the presence of all the guys you try to hook up with."

Pansy would only stare on, gobsmacked and dumbfounded. She would walk away trying to act as if y/n's responses meant nothing to her, but her embarrassment would be evident with the bright red burning at her cheeks. Y/n would always take a silent pride in herself when she managed to hold her composure and deliver lines to Pansy that would shut her up without the need to stoop down the Pansy's level herself.

The days progressed even more until it was eventually the last day before the Christmas holiday. As the other students were packing their things and saying their goodbyes, y/n spent her time in the library or in the Slytherin common room, sitting next to one of the many windows looking out under the Black Lake. Y/n would often sit by the windows and look at the fish and grindylows swim by, almost entranced by the aquatic life that resides within the lake. Y/n always hoped to spot the giant squid someday, but outside of the rare silhouette of a tentacle, she was disappointed. Of course her biggest achievement of her many nights of lake gazing was when she spotted a mermaid right outside the window. The mermaid smiled a soft and ethereal smile before singing a peaceful song, lulling y/n to a restful sleep. Y/n would constantly be on the lookout for that same mermaid each night, even more so than the giant squid, but was unfortunately commonly met with mere fish or the occasional grindylow that would give her a wicked smile. At the end of the day, students began to turn in for the night in preparation for leaving bright and early in the morning to go home or wherever for their Christmas vacations. Y/n, on the other hand, stayed up, sitting on the couch and watching the green flames dance and in the fireplace. A wave of contentment washed over her as she looked forward to a peaceful break. She had just been told by Mallory that, while she was leaving for the holiday, Susan Bones would be staying as her she had no family to return to (her family having been killed personally by Voldemort in the First Wizarding War) outside of her aunt Amelia Bones who was attending to business all holiday. Y/n looked forward to spending some time with Susan, especially knowing how hard the holidays are for her due to her family's past. She has already planned on taking her to Hogsmeade for some quality time as a “girls’ day” together and to make sure that, despite her circumstances, she would still have the best Christmas possible.

As y/n sat alone, mesmerized by the fire and picturing her plans to hang out with Susan, none other than Draco Malfoy once again stepped into the picture. He didn't directly approach y/n, more or less standing off to the side and looking outward at the lake. Y/n eventually directed her attention away from the fire and noticed Draco staring out at the lake. He seemed a lot more fidgety than usual, almost as if he was nervous or dreading something. 'It couldn't possibly be he's not looking forward to going home, could it?' Y/n thought to herself as she observed Draco's body language. After a brief minute, Draco turned around as if to head to bed only to notice y/n staring at him.

"Ah! W-what are you doing here y/l/n?" Draco jumped slightly, caught off guard.

Y/n quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment from being caught. "I, uh, well..." she calmed down and recomposed herself, "if you don't remember, despite yours and most everyone else's wishes, I'm still in Slytherin so I have just as much of a right to be here as you!"

"Oh. Yea. I mean, that's not what I meant." Draco fumbled through his sentences, his nervousness becoming more and more obvious. "I meant, what are you doing here, here. Shouldn't you be in bed so you'll be ready for the holidays?"

Once again, y/n found herself saying, "I could ask you the same thing." Y/n gave a playful yet unconfident smirk.

Defying anyone's best guess, a faint pink rose to Draco's cheeks, completely catching y/n off guard. He quickly tried to laugh it off before continuing to uncharacteristically stumble his way through the conversation. "Uh, yea. My bad, sorry."

Once again, y/n was caught completely off guard. 'Did the Draco Malfoy just say, "sorry"?' Draco didn't even seem phased by the absurdity of what he just said.

Quickly moving on from what just happened, y/n spoke up, "Well, to answer your question. No. I'm not leaving for the holidays. I'll be here all Christmas break."

Almost as if without a second thought, Draco made his way over to the couch area, sitting on the chai directly across from y/n. His previous nervousness seemed to fade away as he responded, "So, why are you staying here? How come you're not going home or traveling somewhere?"

"Well, my parents like to go on big fancy trips for the holidays and they figure that they can save money by leaving me here."

"Oh. Does that bother you at all? That they just leave you behind while they go and have a great time?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to ignore how weird this whole situation is. "Not really. It's always been like this. They never really went on vacations outside of an occasional camping trip with me when I was still living at home and they wanted to take advantage of the situation of me being at a school away from home to go on a nice trip while I was being cared for. We still go camping over the summertime though, so that's fun."

Draco was amazed, listening intently to every word that came out of y/n's mouth. The concept of needing to save money was pretty foreign to him, but he found himself able to relate to her situation of not having the most affectionate family.

"So, what about you, Draco? Why aren't you in bed? No doubt your family has some extravagant plans for the holiday." Y/n asked, turning the tables on Draco.

As soon as she asked this, the previously present nervousness and dread returned to Draco's face. "Oh, uh, not tired yet. A lot on my mind..."

"Well, surely your family has something exciting planned. I mean, you are a Malfoy after all."

As if she just pushed a button, Draco seemed to flinch away at the mention of his family name. For a brief moment, his nervousness was overcome with an irritated, defensiveness as he snapped, "Well it's not all perfect like you so clearly think!"

Y/n flinched back as he shouted this, confused by the sudden change in attitude. Draco noticed her almost immediately shut down, losing any joy that previously graced her face.

"I-I'm... sorry... I didn't mean to shout." Draco sighed. "It's just that-"

"No, I'm sorry." Y/n interrupted. "I saw you were clearly uncomfortable at the first mention of your family and I shouldn't have asked again... you don't have to say anything you don't want to."

"Thank you." Draco simply said. He began to stand up to head to bed before y/n got to say one last thing

"Draco. I-", y/n cut herself off, questioning if she should really finish her sentence. "I'm... always here if you need anything. Okay? I may not know of your family's background or yours, but I'm no stranger to hardships. I'm always here if you need help with something or even just someone to talk to."

Draco looked at her with a face full of mixed emotions. Uncertainty, confusion, fear of letting someone in, fear of pushing her away, and more. He was quiet for about a whole minute as he stood there, looking at y/n.

"But, why? Would you care about me? I've been nothing but cruel and rude to you. Why would you care how I feel?" Draco suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"Just because you may not be the most pleasant person in the world to be around doesn't mean you don't have your own battles and issues in life, nor does it mean your issues are any less valid than anyone else's. You're still a human and... I care about you just like anyone else...", y/n looked down at the floor as she quietly said the last part.

Draco stood there, silent and uncertain about how to respond. Another minute of silence passed and, without a second thought, Draco turned around and walked to his room. Y/n kept looking down, berating herself in her head. 'You went too far you idiot! You just had to push it and make him feel uncomfortable...'. Y/n lied down onto the couch and closed her eyes as she tried to fall asleep.

As Draco walked away, he stopped for a second and whispered under his breath, "Thank you... y/n. Merry Christmas."

The night was rough for Draco; he couldn't sleep as he replayed the conversation in his head over and over again. When the time reached 1:30 am, Draco decided to get up and go for a brief walk to clear his head. He opened the door from his dorm room and quietly snuck out so as to not awake his roommates. Making his way down into the common room, he spotted y/n still there, only asleep on the couch. He quickly deduced she must have been locked out of her room again and that was another reason she wasn't in bed yet when he first came across her. He quietly walked over to her and looked at her. Despite her messy hair and unconventional sleeping position, she had a peaceful look on her face as she slumbered. As he turned away to continue his short walk, he heard a noise come from y/n. When he turned around, he noticed her shivering in her sleep. The fire had died down since he was last here and y/n was without a blanket or anything else to keep her warm. He wanted to relight the fireplace but he also didn't want to risk the sudden light waking her up. He eventually turned back to head to his room as y/n laid there.

The next morning, Draco and his friends were getting ready to leave the school and board the trains. A smirk was plastered on Draco's face, one which did not go unnoticed by Pansy.

"Hey Drayyyy!" Pansy cooed in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. "What's got you so happy this be-a-utiful morning?"

Even Pansy's annoying presence couldn't dampen Draco's mood. "Oh it's nothing. Just looking forward to leaving this joke of a school is all." Draco proudly lied, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Despite many more attempts of learning what the truth was from Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, Draco remained silent on the truth.

Back in the Slytherin common room, y/n began stirring awake. Surprisingly, she slept through the commotion of the other students leaving for Christmas. Stretching and yawning, y/n stood up off the couch, accidentally dropping the jumper that was draped across her onto the ground. Without hesitation she picked up the sweater and slid it on, quickly leaving to brush her hair and get ready for the day to take Susan to Hogsmeade.

Once in Hogsmeade, y/n lead Susan to Honeydukes to pick out an assortment of sweets.

"Thank you so much for all of this, y/n. I really appreciate it." Susan beamed as she grabbed a chocolate frog with one hand as her other held a box of treacle fudge.

"Of course. It's my pleasure and it's a nice change of pace from a normal school schedule. And one never needs an excuse to go to Honeydukes!" Y/n responded gleefully.

After they made their way back to Hogwarts with their bounty of sweets and a few items from Zonko's, Susan led y/n to the Hufflepuff common room so they could indulge themselves.

After taking a big bite from a liquorice wand, Susan spoke out, "oh I've been meaning to ask you, when did you get that jumper? It's been cold all winter but I haven't seen you wear it all!"

Y/n looked down at the jumper. It was green and silver in the Slytherin colors with a big, snake S in the center. "You know what? I don't know... I just woke up this morning and it was draped over me. I'm not sure how I got it."

"Weird. Maybe you made an impulse purchase and completely forgot?"

"No, I don't think that's it. It's a little big for me too. Maybe Mallory bought it for me and left it as a surprise? I know she's a bit bigger than me so that would explain it."

"No that can't be. She got you a new scarf and matching mittens for Christm-shoot!"

"Susan!!!" Y/n burst out laughing.

"Oh no I'm so so so sorry!!! Please don't tell Mallory I told you! She's been planning this for a week! Please act surprised when you get it! Aghhhh I'm so dumb!" Susan panicked as her face flushed from embarrassment.

"Don't worry don't worry!" Y/n chuckled loudly. "I'll act surprised I promise!"

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" Susan cried out as she stuffed her mouth with a pumpkin pasty.

The rest of the Christmas holiday was full of fun and funny times like this. For the first time in a while, y/n looked forward to getting up in the morning and seeing people. She would always wake up bright and early, brush her hair and her teeth, and slip on the mysterious oversized jumper. While it still bugged her and Susan as the jumper's origin remained a mystery, y/n was grateful to have it nonetheless on these cold, winter days.

It also had a pleasant scent of peppermint and pinewood cologne too.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter #fanfic #fantasy #magic #fan fiction

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julemmaes · 3 years

Text

I don’t think I ever wanted something as much as I want acosf right now.

I also don’t think I ever NOT wanted something as much as I don't want acosf right now.

I’ve been in the SJM fandom for a while, Nessian always being my favourite ship (despite Nesta not always being my kind of person – I call that character development) and I read my fair amount of fan fictions and theories. And I don’t want this book, but I need it. And today was just the first on February and it felt like the time was going so fucking slow.

I woke up at eleven thinking about Nesta. Read a Nessian ff and wrote two sentence of my own Nessian fic. Had lunch thinking about Cassian and napped dreaming of him taking Nesta to fly over the mountains. I tried studying and ended up looking at their fanarts for hours cause I noticed yesterday I never really looked at them. I listened to the song I call theirs cause I need to know what they’re doing right now.

But I don’t want the book cause that’s all we’re gonna get. Forever.

I’ll be reading the fucking thing in two days at most, cause I know myself and I know I won’t be worrying about anything else on the 16th and I’ll feel so much. I can already see myself reading the first sentence and having to close the book cause I can’t take it and yet forcing myself to open it again and experience the pages, the words for the only time I’ll ever experience it for the first time.

I already know it’ll be the book I’ll read the most, again and again and again. I know if it isn’t utter shit, I’m gonna get something tattoed to honor these two characters.

But everytime my eyes will fall on a word, that same word will be taken away from me. I’ll never experience reading that sentence ever again. No matter what, I will never be able to read their first kiss, their kiss hug, their first time for the first time. No word will change.

And when I’ll close the book, bringing it to my chest to assimilate what I just read, as I always do, it’ll be the last time I can truly experience it.

Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, I will know.

I can restart the book, I can reopen and try to feel the same emotions. I can read through the whole thing again after years and I will remember exactly what’s gonna happen in the next page.

Cause it’s them. Because it’s Cassian and Nesta.

And every single word they will utter, every single breath they will take, every single emotion they will feel, will be so engraved into my bones that I will never be able to forget.

And I will want to forget so fucking bad. I already know this.

I will want to be able to reread the book without knowing anything about the plot. Cause even from the little we already got, I can tell how much these characters mean to me.

Sometimes I wish I could forget the way Cassian touches her lower back in the scene where Nesta and Feyre connect with the Cauldron. Sometimes I wish I could forget the looks they exchange every time they’re in the same room. Sometimes I wish I could forget Cassian’s rage, his sadness, on Solstice’s night. I wish I could forget Nesta’s pain.

I just wish I could forget so I would be able to feel every little spark, every small flicker of what we’re gonna get in acosf once again. So I could get to know them all over again.

I’m so fucking scared of this book, not because I have high expectations, I actually forced myself to have none (and believe me when I tell you I would not complain if we got 700 pages of them just starring at each other). I’m scared of this book cause even those short scenes made me feel so fucking much. They made me feel things that I had only felt with Julian and Emma and maybe I’m also scared that Nessian could be better than them.

And topping Julian and Emma would mean that my already shattered heart would be taken from my ripped rib cage and held so fucking tight in Nessian’s hands I would probably die. I remember not breathing while reading the last book of TDA. I remember screaming underwater right after I read Emma had been stabbed. I remember refusing to read the end of LoS cause I knew, I knew.

And I’m feeling the same exact emotions right now and I’m scared.

I’m scared of a fucking block of paper.

My brain is oh so not ready for this book.

And I crave it as much as I fear it.

And I know it’s just a book, but it isn’t.

#acosf #a court of silver flames #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #sorry for the rant

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otonymous · 4 years

Text

Kissed By The Baddest CEO (MLQC Victor x KBTBB - NSFW)

Description: Old flames and prospective lovers threaten to derail your budding romance with Victor before it even begins. How will you extricate yourselves from a web of misunderstandings?

Warnings:

NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Potential Trigger Warnings: profanity, jealousy, angst, exes, mentions of alcohol, bone fetishes, rough sex, 69 sex position (oral sex), mirror sex, vaginal intercourse, swallowing, size kink

Mild spoilers for Victor’s family history (MLQC); slight bending of MLQC & KBTBB canon universes via creation of original side character

Word Count: ~10K words (please set aside a good chunk of time for some fluff, angst and smut 🤣)

Author’s Notes:

First of all, a GIANT thank you to the super gracious @lin-ful for commissioning this Victor piece from me. You are an absolute joy to work with and I really appreciate the fact that you gave me carte blanche to basically do whatever I wanted 🤣 I really hope you enjoy the read! (P.S. I would never be so sadistic as to ever make you choose between Victor and Eisuke, so please rest easy 😆)

This story is especially significant to me as a writer because it represents the culmination of a number of milestones: the first time I’ve created an original character, my first attempt at writing a crossover story, the first time I’ve written in both first- and second-person perspectives. It is also the longest single piece I’ve ever written. That being said, please note the warnings listed above and happy reading! 😊

Nb. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1: Hello Diana

“Really Vic, I thought you were beyond name calling by now.”

Her voice is sultry and low, smooth in your ears like the whiskey in her tumbler. Completely at ease in a couture Givenchy pantsuit that likely cost more than one of your production budgets, she sat with her legs elegantly crossed in a leather armchair, tipping her glass to vermillion lips. And as the flames danced in the imposing marble fireplace of one of Shanghai’s oldest and most exclusive supper clubs, they reflected off an enormous ruby ring gracing her middle finger.

Victor scoffs, taking a sip of his own whisky and glancing at you as you follow suit with the virgin cocktail he ordered on your behalf while you were in the restroom.

He was so infuriating at times, but at least it wasn’t warmed milk.

“First of all, you weren’t meant to hear that. Secondly, I hardly consider ‘dummy’ name calling. Far worse exists when it comes to options, as I'm sure you can attest to, Diana. You’ve used quite a few in your day.”

Amusement spreads across her fine features as she throws her head back in laughter, the sound enticing even as it disrupts the low chatter in the room. However, none of the men looking her way seemed to mind. She was brimming with so much joie de vivre that even you weren’t immune to her charms, smiling despite the anxiety that sat heavy in your chest from the very moment Victor introduced you to Diana Shum that evening.

You didn’t quite know why you felt ill at ease, especially towards someone who was doing you a favour by brokering a major deal on behalf of your company. Well, more like doing Victor a favour, since he was the one who made the request. Perhaps this was how all men felt in the presence of such a woman: elegantly confident and unapologetically vivacious, drawing attention everywhere she went.

“Are you still dredging up stories from our Oxford days, Victor? Not very gentlemanly of you. How do you put up with him?” Diana turns to wink at you and the spotlight of her attention makes you feel like the only other person in the room. “Let me assure you those boys deserved every insult in the book; one-track minds and transparent to boot. They should consider themselves lucky I even acknowledged their sad existence.”

“Di, you made the Prime Minister’s son cry. You should’ve seen those puffy eyes the next morning at the swim meet against Cambridge."

Victor raises his brows, subtle amusement colouring his expression. And simple though it was, the sight of his handsome face so transformed by the faint smile on his lips made your heart race.

No, there’s no way. It’s probably just the fatigue catching up to you. The flight to Shanghai from Loveland City must’ve been more taxing than you initially thought, even though Victor had graciously offered to let you hitch a ride on his private jet. You place a hand on your chest, trying to calm the frenzied rhythm of your heart. The gesture goes unnoticed by Diana but Victor throws a worried glance in your direction. You smile to ease his concerns. He furrows his brows.

“Oh please, I should’ve ripped him a new one with the way he tried to get frisky on our date. He’s lucky I didn’t call Soryu to deal with him and his wandering hands.”

A sudden change seeps into Victor’s eyes, dark irises softening as if focused on something miles away. “Soryu. How is your cousin doing, by the way?”

Diana leans back, taking another sip of her drink. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough. I take it you are accompanying this lovely producer to Tokyo to meet with Eisuke and wherever the Ichinomiya heir is, Soryu isn’t far behind. In all honesty though, Vic, surely you would know better than I. Weren’t the three of you thick as thieves during prep school?”

You perk up at the topic of Victor’s childhood. It was a rare chance to learn about the formative years of this stone-faced man before he became the slave driver of Loveland Financial Group.

“I was only there for a year and a half with Soryu and Eisuke before…before my mother passed. My father sent for me shortly afterwards. I haven't seen them since.”

Deep voice trailing off, Victor’s gaze shifts to the fireplace where it remains, as if hypnotized by the flicker of orange flames. And as the silence stretches on, you become disconcerted to see him so uncharacteristically lost in his thoughts. You reach out to touch him but Diana beats you to it, laying a delicate hand on top of his much larger one as it rests on the leather armrest.

The gesture is ridiculously small for how much it blindsides you — the sight of her hand on Victor’s dazzling like the light reflecting off her ruby ring.

He blinks at the touch, long lashes fluttering in the split-second it takes for him to compose himself and suddenly, the unflappable CEO is back again.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and we should probably call it a night. But you have my thanks, Diana, for setting up this meeting with the Ichinomiya Group.”

It was Diana’s turn to scoff. “Can we please dispense with the formalities, Victor? Soryu mentioned Eisuke was having difficulty finding the right people to make this documentary on the anniversary of his Tres Spades Tokyo hotel, so it was serendipity that we bumped into each while on business in London. It’s a win-win situation. Meant to be.”

Meant to be.

There is a spark of something in Diana’s eyes when she makes that last statement. It stays with you long after you part ways with Victor for the night, lying awake in your hotel room as you wondered whether the LFG CEO was already asleep in his.

Chapter 2: SOS

“You’re awfully quiet. Should I take this to mean that you already know everything about Eisuke Ichinomiya and his chain of luxury hotels?"

Victor speaks without raising his head, leafing through the documents on his lap and stopping periodically to leave his signature with the same gold pen that marked up your reports. Its barrel glowed warm, reflecting the soft lights of the cabin of his private jet, en route to Tokyo from Shanghai.

Letting out a shaky breath, you try to steel yourself despite the rising heat in your cheeks. Because after a night spent tossing and turning in your hotel room, you arrived at a conclusion so absurd it could only be true:

You were in love with Victor Li.

Against all odds, the bane of your life had become your biggest ally and mentor. All the pieces of the square puzzle that was the LFG CEO had fallen into place to form one coherent and beautiful picture:

His exacting demands transformed into standards of excellence, his workaholism a paragon of commitment and dedication.

And though you were loathe to admit it, each soft utterance of “dummy” leaving his lips made the corners of yours turn up in the goofiest of grins.

Oh god, how did it ever come to this?! Where and when along the rocky path of your working relationship with the slave driver did you fall in love with him? But that wasn’t even the worst of it. If your intuition about the previous night’s events served you well, the beautiful Diana Shum was also enamoured of him.

You turn to Victor, meaning to inform him with utmost confidence that you had already conducted extensive research on the Ichinomiya Group’s charismatic CEO and his chain of casino hotels. You even thought to throw in a snarky reminder that he himself had been marginally impressed with the presentation you gave on the topic back in Loveland City.

“Are you close to Diana Shum?”

Was NOT what had you meant to ask. Especially in a voice that cracked like a 12 year old pubescent boy’s. And if there was a way by which you could’ve drowned in a bottle of water, you would’ve gladly done so. Instead, you settle for gulping it down, trying to keep your stupid mouth from spewing more nonsense in front of the man who was your de facto boss.

“Ahem.” Victor clears his throat, long legs uncrossing as he shifts in his seat. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the muscles of that chiseled jaw settling firm.

“I-I’m so sorry. It’s none of my business. You don’t have to answer-"

“I’ve known her for a while, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s a classmate from university and also a cousin of a friend of mine from prep school, as you’ve probably gathered from yesterday’s conversation. Since graduation, she’s taken over her father’s role as CEO of Shum Property Developments and we’ve partnered periodically on various business ventures…”

He continues and you nod at the appropriate times, half listening as a million thoughts filtered through your head: your surprise at how unusually verbose Victor was being, the relief you felt to see that he was as determined to avoid your gaze as you were his. Because the truth was that the longer he went on about Diana — so beautiful, polished and charming that you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her even if you tried — the harder it was to keep the clouds from darkening your face. And when Victor says,

“Not like it has any bearing on anything now, but we also dated for a short period of time…”

…It hurts to breathe.

Finally turning in your direction, Victor fixes you with a scrutinizing gaze. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, um, I just…wanted to know a bit more about the person who helped me and my company. So I can better thank her later.”

You speak without meeting his eyes, hoping to placate him with a quick smile as you pretend to rummage through your purse. Thankfully, he drops the topic, returning to his documents. And though the rest of the plane ride is spent in near silence, the thoughts in your head have never been so loud.

Chapter 3: Sexy Bones [Victor]

She wore that dress today. The same one she had on when she impudently stormed my office to insist that I give her company a final chance before pulling funding:

Fitted to conform to every curve, yet formal enough to be professional. Beautifully sensual in her usual understated way. My favourite shade of red.

“It’s my go-to outfit when I need a confidence boost,” she told me once in between bites of pudding at Souvenir. “It makes me feel like a queen, like I can do no wrong. Perfect for business meetings I just have to nail, you know?”

“Dummy,” I had said then, feigning dismissiveness so she wouldn’t pick up on the way my eyes kept drifting towards her lips, so soft and plush I couldn’t help but wonder if her kisses would carry a hint of caramel sweetness.

It was true that the girl could be incredibly dense at times, playing at being queen when she already ruled my heart. Or how oblivious she was to the fact that the British doctor was completely smitten with her during today’s meeting at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel.

Dr. Luke Foster.

Completely absorbed in reading through what looked to be like a stack of medical journals, Dr. Foster had largely ignored us while Eisuke and Soryu made quick work of introducing the eclectic mix of other associates in the room:

Ota Kisaki, the so-called “Angelic Artist” whose work I was well-acquainted with, having previously spent a small fortune on his painting, Koro of My Kokoro.

Baba Mitsunari, a charming man whose handsome features were made all the more striking by the black fedora and red suit he wore. The girl pointed out that he bore an uncanny resemblance to the cashier we saw at a convenience store earlier that day and I had to agree.

They glossed over a man named Mamoru Kishi, apparently sound asleep in one corner of the room with his face covered by a newspaper and a full ashtray by his side.

Finally, they came to Luke Foster, a blond-haired man with the air of an English gentleman. Eisuke explained that Dr. Foster was the hotel’s on-site physician as well as a fellow alumnus of our prep school, apparently having left for reasons no one wanted to articulate the year before I transferred in.

And when the doctor finally looked up at us from his readings, his eyes took on an almost maniacal quality to see the girl standing by my side.

“Those proportions, those angles….perfect…absolutely perfect!” He exclaimed as if in a daze, standing up suddenly and causing the reading materials to spill from his lap in the process.

He looked completely unhinged, almost like a zombie as he reached out a pale hand towards her collarbones of all places. I stepped in front of her on reflex, only to have the doctor fix me with a piercing gaze as if he had just become aware of my existence and found it thoroughly offensive.

“Annnnd there he goes again,” Ota’s tone was one of exasperation, but there was no mistaking the amusement in the smirk that spread wide across his face.

“Ooh, Lu’s got a new victim! Maybe now he can finally stop staring at the Boss’s girl every time she comes in to clean the penthouse!” Baba chimes in, fingers stroking at his chin as if hatching some mischievous plan.

“Will the lot of ya shaddup!? I’m tryin’ to sleep over here…zzz…” The man with the papers over his head gave a muffled shout before promptly rolling over onto his side.

Soryu just sighed, running a hand over his face. And just when I began to worry that the girl was scared out of her wits, having wandered into this strange den of wolves, she surprised me by chuckling under her breath.

Did the dummy find this funny?

“Tch, ignore them, Victor. Let’s just get on with the presentation,” Eisuke said as he took his seat at the head of a long table. The girl straightened up and immediately got to work, transforming into the consummate professional she always was when it came down to business. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as I watched her nail her pitch.

Taking a surreptitious glance around at her rapt audience, I stopped at Luke. The intensity of the doctor's stare made me uneasy, the way those blue-grey eyes hovered above the scooped neckline of her red dress, tracing along her collarbones as if he were caressing them with his gaze alone. I mentally berated myself for not putting my suit jacket over her shoulders before she got up there.

And though it was spoken under his breath, Dr. Foster’s murmur of “sexy bones” rang loud and clear in my ears.

Chapter 4: In A (Traffic) Jam [Victor]

“Victor, you won’t believe my luck! Not only did we cinch the Ichinomiya account, I also found the perfect candidate to appear on our Mystery Finder show!”

The girl was practically breathless on the other end of the line, words jumbling together as they came a mile a minute. And though her enthusiasm is as infectious as it is adorable, I remind myself to play it cool. “Really. And who might that be?”

“Dr. Foster!”

HONK!

I swerve back into my lane on reflex, narrowly avoiding an accident as the driver next to me flips me the bird before speeding away. My heart raced, beating fiercely against the cage of my chest, but it had little to do with my near brush with death.

At this moment, I was more concerned with a man who looked like Death himself.

“Oh my god, Victor, what was that? Are you okay?” The concern in her voice is palpable and it makes me think of how kind and tenderhearted she is, of how easily someone could exploit that to their advantage. “This is a bad time, isn’t it? I’m so sorry, I’ll call you ba-”

“Don’t worry about it, just some idiot not paying attention on the road. And what's this about, ahem, Dr. Foster?" The name itself was unsavoury, sticking in my throat until I spat it out. I hoped the vitriol escaped her notice.

“Okay Victor, get this: it’s like the man has X-ray vision!”

She whispers for dramatic effect, and my grip tightens on the steering wheel as I picture those slate grey eyes sweeping over the curves of her body, a lewd expression falling over the doctor’s features. He was a handsome enough man, that much was true; intelligent and a first-rate surgeon according to Eisuke and Soryu. Goldman confirmed as much when I had him dig up all available information on Luke Foster. On that basis alone, many women would find him to be an extremely attractive suitor and ludicrous though it is, I can’t help but think the worst. Luke had been quite open in his admiration of her, especially her collarbones. What if she returned the sentiment?

In retrospect, it was a horrible idea to leave her to her work (and that wolf) in Tokyo while I returned to mine in Loveland City. While she had the company of her coworkers, clearly none of them sensed the danger in Luke Foster that I did. I no longer had the right to call her a dummy when I was obviously the idiot here.

“I’m telling you Victor, he can just look at somebody and tell you everything about their bone structure. It’s too accurate to just be guesswork! Apparently, he can remember anyone he's ever laid eyes on based on their bones. It’s incredible. I’d love for Professor Lucien to meet him. If only he had the time to fly out to Tokyo…”

The girl continues and I catch sight of my furrowed brows in the rear-view mirror, deepening the longer she goes on and on about men who weren’t me.

“…He’s already agreed to be a guest on the show! But…he did make a rather strange request."

For a moment, I can barely breathe. The skin over my knuckles blanches as it stretches tight, my grip on the wheel growing harder as I brace for unwelcome news. God knows what she would’ve agreed to in my absence. Filled with a sense of dread, I had to know all the same. “Which was?…”

She pauses, the hitch in her breath subtle but speaking volumes nonetheless.

“Just say it, dummy.” I soften my tone in encouragement though my mind was already racing, thinking of all the ways my legal team could dissolve a contract should the girl have already signed papers.

“Well, he…he asked if he could examine my body in lieu of payment for appearing on the show. You should’ve seen him! He was so desperate he was practically begging and I…I just couldn't say no."

MOTHERFUCK!

Chapter 5: Role Model

“STUPID VICTOR LI!”

You had meant to throw the rolled-up magazine in dramatic rock star fashion, sending it flying across your suite at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel to give at least a resounding smack as it hits the wall. Instead, it flutters to the carpeted floor, barely a few feet from where you lay sprawled out on a bed much too large for a single person.

And from the surface of that glossy cover, Victor’s handsome face — all sharp eyes and chiseled jaw - staring up at you from beneath a headline that read: "Man On Top: How Victor Li Conquered The Business World.”

Man on top. What a tease if there ever was one — especially since you’ve developed the recent habit of falling asleep to the fantasy of having the broad expanse of Victor’s muscular chest hovering over you.

“The only thing he should be on top of is ME!”

Your voice echoes in the room, empty save for you. Even still, your cheeks burned from embarrassment over the absurdity of your current situation. Victor Li didn’t belong to you. Not when he had someone like Diana in his life.

Victor and Diana. Diana and Victor. A perfect match regardless of how the pieces fit. And for an instant, your anger flares to remember the nonchalance in Victor’s voice when he told you that their past history as lovers had no bearing on the present, as if they didn’t look like they belonged together when you saw them just now in the lobby of the hotel, moments after you purchased the magazine with Victor’s face gracing the cover from one of the shops.

Practically ecstatic in your surprise to see him there at the Tres Spades, you were just about to call out to him when his name died in your throat, choked by the sight of the woman at his side. Victor was escorting Diana to a limo waiting just beyond the revolving doors. And the last thing you saw before the chauffeur pulled away was the two of them slipping into the vehicle together.

He hadn’t even told you he was coming to Tokyo.

It was only after you became aware of the fact that you were blocking the entrance to the shop that you recovered from the shock, murmuring apologies as you pulled yourself together just enough to make your way back to the safety of your hotel room.

Rising up off the bed, your feet sink into the lush carpeting as you pad over to where the magazine lay. You pick it up and smooth out the crinkles, fingers tracing the outline of Victor’s profile as you do — gentle, as if you were touching the man himself. And when your nose begins to tingle, you know it won’t be long before you feel the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes.

“Think you could stop being so nice to me, Victor? You’ll give a girl the wrong impression.”

Heaving a sigh, you slip the magazine beneath a pillow on the bed. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told you it was almost time for your dinner date with Dr. Foster. Sitting around moping wasn’t an option, at least not tonight. Lightly slapping your cheeks, you push the image of Victor and Diana out of your head and get ready to step into the shower.

Chapter 6: Hard To Swallow [Victor]

“I’m glad you remembered that you owe me a dinner, Victor Li. And though I practically had to drag you to this restaurant, I guess the means don’t really matter if the end result is the same. But still, what a lucky coincidence that we bumped into each other again at the Tres Spades of all places. Now that’s something to drink to.”

Diana holds up her glass, Cabernet Sauvignon swirling as it meets mine with a delicate clink. Under the table, the tip of her stiletto pushes against my oxfords before sliding past my ankle, inching its way up my leg. I pull away, watching those red lips spread into a smile as I do.

“You might be the first man who’s ever been able to resist me. Has anyone ever told you you’re one stubborn asshole?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She laughs at that, taking another sip of her wine before setting it down. “So, tell me about her.”

“Her?” I focus on cutting into my Kobe beef, already aware that Diana will see through my bluff. She always did.

“Surely there must be another woman if you keep turning me down over and over again, Victor. A girl has her pride too, you know.”

“We are not getting back together, Diana.”

“Tsk, you’re no fun, Vic. All work and no play, all the time. I’ll have to remind myself of that the next time I start entertaining thoughts of calling you up again.”

She pouts, but it isn’t long before her eyes take on that familiar spark of mischief as she continues.

“But seriously, tell me about your cute little producer. That is the girl you keep rejecting me for, I presume. I need to know about the woman who’s finally managed to infiltrate the entirety of Victor Li’s notoriously impenetrable heart. She must be quite the lover if she’s got you wrapped around her little finger like that, pulling strings with all your friends left, right and centre.”

It annoys me to no end that the mere mention of the girl is enough to reduce me to a swooning idiot. I fight to keep the smile off my face.

“You’ve got the wrong idea. She’s not my lover.”

Diana begins to protest, but her words are lost on me because I’ve stopped listening. In fact, the only thing I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears, propelled by the adrenaline racing through my veins to see him enter the restaurant.

Dr. Luke Foster.

WITH MY DUMMY, NO LESS.

And my dummy looks…absolutely gorgeous. Her hair is done up, leaving her graceful neck and collarbones exposed in a little black dress I’ve never seen her wear before, I realize with not an insignificant amount of jealousy.

But wait…collarbones?!

Sure enough, that surgeon is staring at her clavicle like some kind of pervert. The sight alone incites the beginnings of a dull throbbing in my temples, no doubt exacerbated by the vice-like clench of my jaws.

I follow them with my gaze as they are led to a table for two; fixate on Luke’s face even as the sommelier arrives to make his recommendations to the pair. The doctor stares at my girl like he couldn’t care less about the meal, as if the only thing he hungered for was precisely what I myself had desired for so long: the woman. And she—

Just looked my way.

Surprise etches itself onto her beautiful features — the brows I had dreamt of one day lightly running a fingertip over while she sleeps lifting into a delicate arch. And why shouldn’t she be surprised? I had given her no indication that I had rushed over to Tokyo from Loveland City as soon as I heard what Luke had requested of her.

But there is no nod of acknowledgement, no smile in greeting. Just her, looking away as if she hadn’t seen me at all, her smile apologetic when she retrains her attention on the doctor. And while it was only for a fraction of a second, I could have sworn her eyes carried a hint of sorrow.

Or perhaps I’m projecting.

Because her obvious avoidance feels like a rebuff, a sucker punch to the gut. She’s never blatantly ignored me like that, no matter how wound up she was even during those times when I verbally tore her sub-par proposals to shreds. The feeling of rejection sits heavy on my chest, the tie around my neck much too tight.

“Victor, are you all right?”

Diana’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She is looking at me curiously. I reach for my glass of wine, suddenly feeling like I was on the verge of choking. “Of course, what could possibly be wrong?”

“ ‘What’s wrong’ is the fact that you haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said for the past ten minutes. Even if there’s no chance we’ll ever get back together again as you so adamantly insist, the least you could do is pay attention to the person you’re sharing a meal with.”

I take a deep breath, more than a little disconcerted by the girl’s ability to affect me. “Of course. My apologies, you’re absolutely right. Please, continue.”

Across the candlelit table, I look Diana in the eye, resolved to keep up at least the pretence of being interested in what she had to say when all I wanted to do was storm the table where Luke sat with my girl. With each sideways glance in their direction, my grip tightened on my utensils to see them chatting, seemingly engrossed in the world’s most interesting conversation.

And when she hands over a manila envelope to the doctor, my heart skips a beat.

Could it be…marriage documents?!

One tiny corner of my brain berates me for how ridiculous I am being but when it comes to her, I simply can’t help it, and the fantasy in which I casually stroll over, flip the table onto Luke Foster and steal my girl away in a bridal carry becomes so vivid in my mind’s eye, it almost seems like a good idea.

Diana excuses herself to use the restroom and I pounce on the opportunity to send the dummy a text:

“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR. DON’T BE LATE.”

Chapter 7: Choked Up

“Is there something wrong, Dr. Foster? You haven’t touched your meal.”

You do your best to school your expression into one of polite neutrality as you take in the strange sight of the pale, blond-haired man shaking out an alarming number of pills onto the palm of his hand, tapping loudly on a bottle seemingly produced out of nowhere. He pops them all into his mouth at once and you pray you won’t have to perform the Heimlich maneuver as he chases them down with a few gulps of water.

A smile spreads across the doctor’s lips as his eyes fall upon your collarbones once more. You were used to feeling like a third wheel by now, even when alone with Luke Foster, given his penchant for carrying on conversations while staring intently at your bones. But you took no offence at his behaviour, especially after Baba’s attempts to give you insight into Luke’s peculiar mannerisms:

“Try not to take it personal, Miss. Lu will look at anyone who’s got beautiful collarbones. It’s a well-known fact that he’s obsessed with the boss’s - he's even framed the X-ray films of Eisuke’s bones. He likely just wants yours to add to his collection.”

Strange though it was, the request that Luke be allowed to have X-rays films of your collarbones in exchange for appearing on Miracle Finder was innocent enough. Certainly nothing that warranted the stony silence you received on the other end of the line when you called Victor the other day to tell him that Dr. Foster wanted to examine you. After a brusque “I have to go,” he had hung up. No goodbyes, not even a mutter of “dummy.”

But Luke Foster had been nothing short of a perfect gentleman, never once laying a hand on you. Moreover, he even insisted on paying for tonight’s meal despite the fact that you had invited him as thanks for appearing on the show.

“Please, just call me Luke. Vitamins and water are all I need to survive. I only ordered because Eisuke said it might be awkward if you seemed to be the only one dining.”

“I-I see.” You smile, taking another bite of wagyu. And for a moment, you are too wrapped up in the blissful way it seemed to melt on your tongue to be disconcerted by the strange events of the evening.

You weren’t, however, too distracted to continue throwing surreptitious glances in Victor’s direction, fighting to keep composed each time Diana’s laughter carried over to your table. What were the chances that you’d find yourselves at the same restaurant in all of Tokyo? You know that he knows you are here; even Chik couldn’t put on a performance convincing enough for the LFG CEO to believe for a second that you didn’t see him.

With your dismal acting skills, you definitely didn’t stand a chance.

“You’re in love with him.”

COUGH, COUGH!

You clear the steak lodged in the back of your throat with a few hacking coughs, half of your face hidden behind your napkin as you tried to be as discreet as possible, the words “Death by Wagyu” flashing through your mind. After soothing your throat with a sip of wine, you ask:

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re in love with that man sitting just over there with the woman dressed in red. That Victor fellow who accompanied you to that first meeting with Eisuke.”

For someone who seemed to pay very little attention to matters that didn’t concern bones, Luke Foster was surprisingly perceptive. Or maybe you weren’t as discrete as you thought you were and it was obvious to all but yourself that you were staring at the golden couple.

“I…how did you...what makes you—”

“Please pass this message on to him for me. If he doesn’t treat your collarbones with the respect they deserve, he can’t blame me for swooping in to take his place.”

Then, for the very first time that night, Luke Foster looks you in the eye, the intensity in blue-grey irises making your breath hitch when he says: “Until then, I hope you find happiness with him, Sexy Bones — especially since he also seems to be exceedingly fond of you. Quite the annoyance, really.”

And for the very first time that night, you smile freely, naturally, at Luke, blushing hard as you contemplate his words. Suddenly bashful, you drop your gaze only to catch sight of the manila envelope you brought with you. You pass it across the table to him.

“Here. Your payment for agreeing to appear on Miracle Finder.”

The expression on Luke’s face can best be described as euphoric when he takes the films from you, momentarily excusing himself from the table as he murmurs something about requiring brighter lighting to examine them.

That is when you hear the buzz of your phone from inside your purse. And when you finally fish it out, you see a single text from Victor, commanding as always:

“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR. DON’T BE LATE.”

Chapter 8: Green-Eyed Monsters [Victor]

“Another whiskey on the rocks for you, Sir?”

I nod to the bartender, watching as he chips away at a block of ice to produce a perfect crystalline sphere — still spinning in the glass when he pours the amber spirit over it like a libation. It almost takes my mind off the fact that the girl is late. By exactly ten minutes, according to my watch. And for a moment, I’m gripped by a sense of panic when I consider the possibility that she might not come.

She never did answer my text though I knew she saw it — having witnessed her reaching into her purse to pull out her phone seconds after I sent the message. And while the logical part of my brain is telling me I’m being an absolute idiot, worst-case scenarios are already running through my head: the girl is side-swiped by a car while crossing the street, or somehow managed to fall into an open manhole and is currently standing knee-deep in sewage.

Or maybe she is pinned to the wall in a dark corner somewhere, hemmed in on either side by the gifted hands of a world-class surgeon by the name of Luke Foster.

I lift the glass to my lips, too impatient to even savour the smooth burn of the drink as I reach for my phone to send her another text. That is when I see her:

Cheeks flushed and chest gently heaving as if she had rushed to get here. An errant lock of hair falling from her up-do, framing that beautiful face like I had dreamt so many times of doing with the palm of my hand.

She makes her way towards me in that dimly lit bar, and though I’m aware of the faint ticking of the second hand of my watch, time may as well have stood still. Because I could have lived in that moment forever, gazing upon the light in her eyes as if they held every last star in the sky, as if those heavenly bodies had fallen just for her in precisely the same way I had: deeply, irrevocably.

And I know there is no turning back.

“Victor, sorry I’m late! What are you doing here in Tok—”

“Why did you ignore me?” My voice comes out stern, even to my ears, and I curse myself for losing my cool around her yet again. The girl furrows her brows, eyes dropping from my face to the half-empty glass of whiskey sitting on the counter. And when she looks up again, something in her countenance has changed — soft surprise giving way to a hardened expression.

“If it’s the text you’re referring to, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

She looks away, refusing to meet my gaze as she perches on the stool beside me. “Surely you wouldn’t have wanted me to interrupt your dinner date, especially when you and Ms. Shum seemed so intimate.”

Intimate?

The bartender approaches, interrupting our conversation before I get the chance to formulate a reply. “What can I get for you, Miss?”

“She’ll have a glass of warmed milk—”

“Whiskey. On the rocks, please.”

She speaks over me, turning slightly in my direction as she does. I ignore the murmur of “Ladies’ choice” from the bartender as well as the smirk on his face as he begins preparing her drink. The thinly veiled challenge in the girl’s expression — elbow propped up on the counter with her chin resting atop a loose fist — only serves to highlight how incredibly alluring it is when she pushes back.

“Hmm. Bold. Since when did you start drinking whiskey? I don’t think you need me to remind you of your non-existent alcohol tolerance. Besides, didn’t you already have enough to drink at dinner?”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Victor Li,” she says, reaching for the glass the bartender sets down before her. She takes a moment, staring at the rich, golden hues before finally taking a sip. I fight to keep the smile off my face when hers pulls into a grimace from the sting of the alcohol she clearly wasn’t familiar with. Dummy.

“I’m surprised you even noticed me at all, not with the lovely Diana there. But I guess old wounds really do have difficulty closing, no matter how much we say they’ve healed.”

“You’d have to ask for the expert opinion of your overly friendly doctor about that.”

“Excuse me?” She sets her drink down a bit harder than likely intended, sending the liquid sloshing about the glass to kiss the pink of her lipstick imprinted on its edge.

I don’t like where this conversation is going, the ill-disguised barbs only serving to increase the tension between us. It was foolish to have what should’ve been a very private discussion in a public space but, as always, the thought of her and Luke together is enough to make me forget my place and position, throwing caution to the wind and behaving with reckless abandon.

And still, the heat beneath my collar goads me on.

“Luke Foster. The one you’re so enthralled with that your manners seem to have been completely swept from memory. I presume that’s the reason why you didn’t acknowledge my existence when you saw me in the restaurant.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief as she leans in close, voice dripping with sarcasm: “Just like how you didn’t remember to tell me you were coming to Tokyo? Or maybe you weren’t planning on telling me at all, since it clearly looked like you weren’t here on business. But then again, I guess your business is none of mine.”

I don’t know whether I want to push back or kiss her senseless.

Instead, I settle for a deep breath, trying to keep my frustration in check. Having a heated argument with her was not how I had intended my evening to go. In fact, my entire day had not proceeded as planned, and if I hadn’t been accosted by Diana as soon as I stepped foot in the Tres Spades hotel, I would have been having dinner with the woman who occupied all my thoughts, all the time. At the very least, I could’ve saved her from the clutches of a pervert doctor.

I glance in her direction, study the beautiful melancholy of her silent profile as she watches the ball of ice slowly melt into her drink. Then I take another sip of mine, steeling myself for reparations I desperately needed to make.

“I am only going to say this once, so listen closely. Diana Shum and I dated shortly after graduation for all of two months before we decided to part ways on amicable terms. We make for much better business partners than we ever did romantically, and while she has expressed occasional interest in rekindling our relationship, I have never been of the same mind. I can assure you this will never change.

“The reason I came to Tokyo is not because of her — professional or otherwise — but because I was in a rush to prevent a certain dummy from doing anything she’d regret later on. But…”

I knock back the rest of my whiskey, emptying the glass.

“…I’m afraid I’m too late.”

She looks at me now, eyes wide as if she were still processing the words. Her next question comes on a whisper: “Why would you be too late?”

And it is my turn to look away.

“Well, you seemed to be pretty intimate yourself with Dr. Foster during your dinner date. I can only presume that…”

The girl moves closer and I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to her mouth — the tremble of her lower lip, full and pink and lush. Without thought, I allow my gaze to trace along the graceful column of her neck, settling at the delicate notch between her collarbones and in that instant, I come to a visceral understanding of the extent of Luke Foster’s obsession, for mine was magnified a million times over:

I yearned for the entirety of this woman before me — needed her for myself, now and forever.

“Presume what?” Her voice is low, shaking.

“I can only presume that you’ve already allowed him to…examine your body.”

There is a moment of silence — each torturous second seeming to stretch into eternity to smother the last embers of hope.

“I have…”

Oh god.

“…given him X-ray films of my collarbones as he requested. That is all. He’s never touched me, not even once. I took him out to dinner tonight so I could give them to him as thanks for appearing on the show.”

Petty. Sheepish. I felt all these things, but none so powerful as the staggering sense of relief that washes over me to hear her say these words. Closing my eyes, I let the revelation sink in, finally feeling like I can breathe for the very first time that night.

Chapter 9: The Big Bang

You don’t quite know what made you do it.

The ambience of the bar, perhaps: sultry jazz and flickering candles purposefully placed to create just enough shadows for a veil of privacy.

Or maybe it was the crestfallen uncertainty that painted the handsome features of Victor Li’s face, his sudden display of vulnerability both novel and endearing.

Most likely however, it was the way in which his downcast expression morphed into one of ecstatic relief when you told him that Luke Foster had not laid a single finger on you.

Because when Victor tilts his head back, eyes closed and sighing deeply as if some unfathomable burden had been lifted, you cannot help but bring your lips to the Adam’s apple bobbing along the length of that strong, thick neck.

Cedar wood and pine.

The notes of his cologne are so familiar you didn’t realize how much you missed his scent until you literally came face to face with it. Victor is warm, so very warm beneath the skin of your lips. And under your touch, you become vaguely aware of the fact that the rise and fall of his chest has stilled.

At any other time, you would’ve questioned your sanity for how boldly you were behaving, especially towards someone who was your boss. You had never been one to put yourself out there when it came to matters of the heart. Something about the moment however, about Victor, made you feel like the one thing you could not do was let this chance pass you by.

So when you hear that shuddering breath, feel the faint scratch of his five o’clock shadow when he nuzzles against you in return, you know you’ve made the right gamble. Being with Victor Li feels right. And the surreal sense of belonging you find within the embrace of his muscular arms gives you the courage to say, “You must really believe I’m a dummy if you think I’d let any man other than you touch me.”

He slides a finger beneath your chin, gently lifting until all you can see are those jet black eyes, swimming with heat and emotion. The sudden silence of your surroundings sinks in: no more music, no idle chatter. Not even the rustle of limbs moving about in the dimly lit bar. And there, in the strange privacy of suspended time…

...Victor kisses you.

* * *

“Are you sure…this is…what you want?”

The deep timbre of Victor’s voice sends a thrill vibrating along the surface of your skin as he questions you between kisses — laid on your mouth, the line of your jaw, the pulse of your neck. His firm body presses you into a corner of the elevator, empty save for the two of you writhing in unison against a mirrored wall.

Each movement of his soft lips against yours is purposeful, imbued with meaning: longing in the gentle teeth that nibbled on your lower lip before drawing it into his mouth, in the sensual slide of the tongue that sought yours. Affection obvious in the hands that rose to cup your face, thumbs tracing circles on the apples of reddened cheeks to tell you in no uncertain terms that Victor Li belonged to you as much as you yearned to belong to him.

So you had no qualms about answering in the affirmative, nodding your head because the press of Victor’s muscular thigh between your legs already left you breathless and wondering whether he could feel your wet heat seeping through your panties.

And all he really did was kiss you.

Ding.

The elevator stops at your floor and even before the doors slide open, Victor has hoisted you up, wrapping your legs tightly about his tapered waist and whispering into your ear, “Which room?”

You knew Victor was fit, had seen him move fast and effortlessly through the waters of his Olympic-sized swimming pool that one time he had you deliver a report to his mansion on a Sunday. And yet, you could not help but admire the sheer perfection of his physique — the bulk of his biceps, flexed beneath strained layers of clothing; the ease with which he carries you all the way to your suite.

And when he sits you down upon the king-sized bed, you wonder if it is, in fact, too small for all the things you cared to do with him.

The LFG CEO shrugs off his suit jacket, loosening his tie just enough to pull it over his head before dropping to kneel at your feet. You watch him reach for you, shiver when he caresses the sensitive skin behind your knee with a light graze of gentle fingertips. Large hands trail down your calf — touch barely there and teasing — until his palm finally cups the heel of your stiletto to slide it off your foot.

He looks up at you then, the intensity in ebony irises rendering you still and mute as you patiently await his next move despite the frenzied pounding in your chest. There is a stroke of something almost feral in the dark depths of the gaze that falls heavy upon you — searching your eyes, lingering on your lips…tracing the neckline of your dress.

“I’ve never seen you wear this dress before.” Victor says, taking the same amount of care to remove the shoe from your other foot.

And if you were able to think straight under the influence of his touch — the hands that pushed back the hem of your dress as they roamed higher and higher up your thighs towards your heat — you might have found it strange that Victor was choosing now, of all times, to comment on your wardrobe choices. As it was, you answered without second thought: “It’s new. I bought it especially for tonight’s dinner.”

Victor stills and when he speaks again, there is a faint tremble in that voice, as if fighting to contain some unfathomable emotion.

“The doctor couldn’t stop staring at you. I know because I was the same way. I couldn’t look away from the moment you stepped foot in that restaurant.”

The revelation leaves you silent, waiting with bated breath for Victor to continue.

“Forgive me…”

Fingers entwine with fabric, gripping tight.

“…but I can’t stand the thought of you looking so beautiful for anyone else.”

RRRIIIIPPPP!

You fall back, wincing at the sound even as you feel your body respond to the sudden shock of having your dress torn right down the middle. Victor’s display of brute strength was so at odds with the façade of composure he was synonymous with and yet, there was no denying that you were incredibly aroused by this show of power — by the fact that he was now straddling you on all fours like some wild beast, tearing away the rest of your undergarments to leave you completely bare.

You’ve never been so desperate to feel him inside you, deep and rough and untamed. The thought throws you into a frenzy of lust.

Digging your fingers into the front of his dress shirt, you yank it open to send buttons flying in haphazard directions, but the only thing that concerned you was the sight of that broad chest and muscular torso, so impressive it actually elicits a moan from your lips and a smile from his in return.

Propping yourself up onto your knees, you press against him, flesh to flesh — one hand running over the burning surface of his skin even as the other tugs at the buckle of his leather belt, impatiently moving to palm him when his dress pants fall and gasping to finally see and feel the full extent of the LFG CEO:

Victor Li is rock hard and intimidatingly large.

And the sight makes your mouth water.

Sinking onto your heels, you trail your lips along Victor’s chiseled body, tongue teasing at his nipples as you do and relishing the catch of his breath in his throat.

But just as you begin to lay kisses along the deep V of his abdomen with the intent of tracing lower and lower, Victor stops you, puling you up for a kiss before laying back on the bed and positioning you above him…

…with his face between your legs.

“This way,” he says, voice muffled, and you might have commented on his inability to relinquish control even in the bedroom were it not for the sensation of his flattened tongue sweeping hot and wet along the seam of your already dripping pussy, teasing from end to end.

The sensation is so intense it’s almost unbearable. You throw your head back, mouth dropping in a silent scream as you sink onto Victor’s face, fighting the instinct to grinder lower onto that talented tongue despite the encouraging grip of Victor’s hands, strong on your hips and thighs.

“I’ve wanted to taste you…for so long,” he murmurs, sucking the swell of your clit into his mouth and humming in approval against moist flesh to hear you moan above him. “Your flavour is absolutely exquisite.”

Gathering your wits, you fold forward — intent on giving just as much pleasure as you were receiving. Victor twitches once within your grip, not quite contained by the circumference of your palm and fingers, running up and down the sizeable length of his cock, hot in your hand like his breath on your slit. And after placing a few wet kisses on the smooth, hard head, you open your mouth to taste him.

The tepid salt of his arousal. The groans originating from deep within Victor’s chest each time your lip brushed past the tender underside of his cock. The subtle rhythm of his pelvis, lifting in time to your mouth swallowing more of that solid shaft, quickly becoming slick with your saliva.

And then you catch sight of your reflection in the mirrored closet. See the bulge of Victor’s bicep as he grips your hip, the flex in the muscles of his neck when he lifts to bury his face deeper into your folds. See yourself: hair disheveled and eyes half-lidded, drunk on sex. Observe the messy smear of your lipstick as your mouth stretches to accommodate more and more of your boss’s cock. And when the tip of Victor’s tongue begins its relentless tease of your clit, you watch as a most debauched expression falls over your features, the tension in your body breaking as you find release on his lips.

You are still shaking when he enters you, sensitized by an orgasm that left tiny sparks of electricity running along every nerve, priming you for second helpings. A true paragon of patience, Victor Li takes his time, deliberately slow as he pushes — savouring the sensation of drenched, swollen flesh parting just for him.

It was almost unfathomable that you could experience such extreme pleasure, each powerful swing of Victor’s hips driving him deeper into your body — hitting just the right angles until your very senses were extracted along with your second release of the night, running slick between your legs to ease the slippery slide of your bodies.

It draws out Victor’s own, your lover moving to pull out moments before you surprise him by taking him once more into your mouth — gaze locked onto those dark eyes from below as you taste him on your tongue, euphoric to see him bite his lips when your lick yours to swallow every last drop.

Chapter 10: Pillow Talk

Beep Beep Beep Beep.

You roll over, eyes still closed as you reach out to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock.

Except your palm comes down on warm flesh with a resounding smack, echoing throughout your hotel room and accompanied by a deep voice that says, “Are you finally awake, Dummy?”

Your eyes shoot open to see Victor lying naked in bed next to you, a splotch of red blooming on his chest where he had been attacked. He sets his phone down to hand you a glass of water from the bedside table, and even though memories of the previous night come rushing back to burn your cheeks, you cannot help but notice how glorious he looks bathed in morning light. You hope he doesn’t see the way your hand shakes when you accept the glass from him with a meek “Thanks.”

Victor clears his throat, waiting for you to finish drinking before he says, “That was the fourth time you slept through the alarm. I’ve already informed your colleagues you’ll be taking the day off. We didn’t get much sleep last night and I think you’ll need some time to…recover.”

You bite your lip, turning sideways to feign a sudden interest in the curtains so he wouldn’t see the giant smile spreading onto your face. It was almost surreal that Victor Li was your lover, and if it weren’t for the exquisite soreness you felt between your legs, you would’ve been hard pressed to believe it for yourself.

The sheets rustle and before you know it, Victor has his chest pressed up against your bare back, laying a soft kiss on your shoulder before he rests his chin on it.

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Okay. Pretty good, actually.” It was too early in the game to tell him you were already doing cartwheels in your mind.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that because I found this under your pillow…”

He places something in your hands. Your eyes widen when you recognize the magazine with his face on the cover.

“…And this ‘man on top’ wants to know what it feels like to have this woman on top of him for the rest of the day.”

You’ve made it to the end! 🤩 Thank you so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

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arofili · 3 years

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elves of arda ✹ gondolindrim ✹ headcanon disclaimer ✹ @gondolinweek

Turukáno Núrondil was the second son of Ñolofinwë Arakáno, and the King of Ondolindë. On the treacherous journey across the Helcaraxë, Turukáno lost his wife Elenwë to the icy depths, a traumatic experience that altered his fate forever. He was always a serious and fastidious nér, and in Beleriand his character grew even grimmer. He kept his daughter Itarillë close by, quarrelled with his elder brother Findekáno over whether to forgive the Sons of Fëanáro, and soon realized that what he wanted was to never have left the gleaming city of Tirion-upon-Túna. But there was no turning back time, and Turukáno had no recourse to return to Valinórë either. Instead he set his mind to the creation of a new city, safe and hidden, where he would have total control over his life and his loved ones would never be in any danger. First Turukáno settled in the land of Nevrast on the western coast, where he built the city of Vinyamar and spent much time looking out over the Sea, missing the life he used to have. Yet he was not idle: with him in Vinyamar were his cousin Laurefindil, a charismatic lord with a faithful retinue of warriors, and the harpist Nandáro who led a small group of farmers and musicians. In Nevrast, the Noldor mingled with those who dwelt there already, and Turukáno allied with Galdor, a lord of the native Sindar. At the Mereth Aderthad, Turukáno broke bread with many lords of the Noldor and the Sindar, forming alliances and making many great speeches. He kept his plans for his hidden city vague, but promised safety and sustenance to those who would ally themselves with him. Not long after the Feast of Reuniting, Turukáno recruited the archivist and architect Penlod, a friend of his sister, to aid him in preliminary designs of a city resembling Tirion of old. His daughter Itarillë grew ever more restless under his stern watch, eventually culminating in her secret departure to visit her uncle Fingon in Dor-lómin without her father’s leave. Turukáno dramatically lost his temper when he discovered what had happened, and his close friend and cousin Finrod decided he needed some time away from home to come to terms with his losses and fears. Thus Finrod invited Turukáno to adventure with him across Beleriand. They spent a year together, wandering alone through hills and valleys, and Turukáno finally let his repressed emotions spill out. Finrod comforted and supported him, hiding his secret affections for his cousin all the while—at least until his own resolve broke as they spent a night together on the banks of the river Sirion. The passions Turukáno and Findaráto exchanged beneath the summer stars were not to blossom into anything lasting, for that very night both were visited by Ulmo in their dreams. The Lord of Waters imparted visions of hidden kingdoms to them both, urging them to pursue their goals, but each thought they were the only one to receive the calling. Their minds were muddled when they woke, the night before hazy and indistinct, and clinging to their secrets neither Finrod nor Turukáno spoke to one another of either their dreams or their half-remembered confessions of passion. Turukáno spent much time alone searching for the place Ulmo had shown him in his dreams, at last discovering the hidden valley of Tumladen. There, he knew, his people could be safe, and he immediately began to call upon the friends and allies he had made through fifty years of politicking to aid him in constructing a new kingdom. In the one hundred and seventeenth year of the Sun, the city of Ondolindë was at last completed. Around him Turukáno gathered the greatest lords in his service, establishing ten noble Houses, with himself and his household as the eleventh. Thousands of Eldar, Noldor and Sindar both, quietly made their way to the gates of Ondolindë, but only one hundred were counted as part of the House of the King. Among the folk of the King were the Unbegotten brothers Bruithwir and Finrun, serving as Turukáno’s personal bodyguard. They were grim folk, alike to their King in mood; they knew well the dangers of Middle-earth, for both had perished on the perils of the Great Journey and had been reborn in Aman. They served as guides to the exiled Noldor who had never before seen the far shores, and attached themselves to Turukáno, the prince they believed best knew how to endure the horrors of Morgoth. A hundred years after Ondolindë was completed and its gates shut to the outside world, Turukáno completed his greatest creative project: artistic recreations of the Two Trees of Valinor, wrought in silver and in gold. He called them Lingancal and Valisil, known to his Sindarin-speaking subjects as Glingal and Belthil, and looked upon them with great pride. Yet the day of their unveiling in the King’s Square, Turukáno’s counselor the prophet Amnon was gripped with a dreadful foresight. She prophesied that though they dwelt in a mighty and beautiful city, “great is the Fall of Gondolin, for when the lily of the valley withers then shall Turgon fade.” Already, Ondolindë had gained a number of praising names, including Lothengriol or Endillos, the Flower of the Vale, and the golden blossoms of Lingancal resembled the bloom of a lily. Though Amnon’s words unsettled him, Turukáno dismissed her warning and took heart in the artificial nature of his creation—for how could a lily of gold wilt? Another hundred years passed in peace before trouble stirred in the valley of Tumladen. King Turukáno’s sister Aredhel Ar-Feiniel, Lady of the Tower of Snow, had come with him to Ondolindë for the sake of her friends and kin, but now she grew restless within the confines of the Echoriath and its surroundings. Though Turukáno was reluctant to let her leave, she refused to be kept caged any longer; Turukáno, knowing she would depart whether or not he permitted it, sent with her an escort of his three most valiant Lords and begged her to head straightaway the home of Fingon their brother. But Aredhel went not to Dor-lómin as she had been instructed, instead turning toward Himlad where her friends Celegorm and Curufin dwelt. Along the way she was lost in the treacherous forest of Nan Dungortheb, and try though they might, her escort could not find her. They returned to Gondolin in sorrow, and Turukáno retreated into grief once more. Eventually he granted permanent leadership of his sister’s House to her friend Penlod, who had taken stewardship of her folk upon her departure, and all of Gondolin mourned her as dead. Thus great was their surprise and joy when Aredhel returned unlooked-for—and with a son! For a day there was feasting and merriment, welcoming the indomitable Lady of the Tower of Snow back home, but soon the celebrations were cut short upon the arrival of Aredhel’s wicked husband Eöl, who when faced with the King’s decree that he may not leave Gondolin, slew his wife and was slain in turn. Upon this great tragedy, Aredhel’s son Maeglin was left orphaned, and Turukáno took him under his wing. Maeglin was odd and reclusive, and Turukáno had never been the most emotionally intelligent nér, so while they performed an awkward familial act they were never as close as Turukáno wished. Upon Maeglin’s coming of age, Turukáno named him the Lord of the new House of the Mole in an attempt to show his love for his nephew. When the Siege of Angband was finally broken, Turukáno did not send forth any aid to his kin outside Ondolindë’s walls. He did, however, send a select few mariners out to sea so they might beg the aid of the Valar, but none ever returned. Then came the fall of High King Fingolfin in single combat with Morgoth himself; his body was recovered by the mighty Eagle Thorondor and delivered to Ondolindë, where Turukáno grieved and built him a cairn. At this time Turukáno added to the emblem of his House a scarlet heart, representing the loss of his beloved father, before the symbols of the Sun and Moon. Two years later, Thorondor delivered Turukáno another gift, this one more pleasant: he rescued the Mannish children Húrin and Huor and brought them to Gondolin, where never before had Men been seen. Turukáno grew fond of the boys, and at Húrin’s insistence he finally sent word to his brother that Aredhel had died, breaking his utter isolation for the first time. He was sorrowful to see the lads go when they returned to their homelands in Dor-lómin, his brother’s domain, and remembered them when word came to Gondolin a decade later of the formation of the Union of Maedhros. Unlooked for, Turukáno led an army ten thousand strong to reinforce High King Fingon at the Fifth Battle. Gondolin’s sudden appearance turned the tide of the dreadful battle for a time, but in the end the Union was overrun and Fingon slain only days after he and Turukáno had reunited for the first time in over 300 years. The House of Hador, led by the now full-grown Húrin and Huor, defended the retreat of the Gondolindrim; in their final meeting, Huor urged Turukáno to escape and prophesied that from him and the King “a new star shall arise.” Turukáno returned to Ondolindë amid great sorrow, having lost many soldiers including his faithful bodyguard Bruithwir, and assumed the title of High King of the Noldor in the wake of his brother’s death. The free-peoples of Beleriand were defeated in all but the three hidden strongholds of the elves—Doriath, Nargothrond, and Gondolin itself—and he saw himself as the last great leader of his people. Despite this, other Noldor yet lived outside his jurisdiction, and Turukáno’s new title did not extend his duties any further than the walls of his city, now more isolated than ever. More mariners were sent begging aid from the Valar—and though none made it to the Blessed Land, this time one, Voronwë, survived, returning to Gondolin with a Man sent to the King with a prophecy from Ulmo. Turukáno was counseled to open the gates of his city and prepare for battle or else face the destruction of his people and city, yet Turukáno could not see any path to victory in open war and trusted rather in his own counsel and that of his nephew Maeglin. Ulmo’s messenger was none other than Tuor son of Huor, and in memory of his friend Turukáno gave him leave to stay in Ondolindë. His daughter Idril was charmed by the Man, and in the course of a few years they asked for permission to wed. Turukáno hesitated at first, but recalled the last words of Huor and was moved to agree. Tuor and Idril were wed amid great joy, and he joined his wife as the leader of her House of the Wing; in only a year’s time, their son Eärendil was born. But Ulmo’s warning soon proved true, for when Eärendil was only seven years old the golden lilies of Glingal were found tarnished and dented. Amnon urged her King to take heed of the obvious sign from the Valar and the fulfillment of her prophecy, but once more Turukáno refused to listen. This would prove disastrous, as on the morn of Tarnin Austa the armies of Morgoth attacked Gondolin and its great Fall began. Most of Turukáno’s Lords urged him to abandon the city, but Maeglin, who had for a year been acting fell and strange, convinced him to remain in an attempt to hold the city. For much of the awful battle, Turukáno kept his House in reserve, but when Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs was slain he came down from his tower in all his splendour to cleanse the Square of the King. They drove back the enemy monsters for a time, but many of his folk were slain. The remaining folk gathered beneath Glingal and Bansil, slowly melting from the heat of dragonfire, and Turukáno at last saw that he had brought ruin upon his city. Now at last he recognized the truth in Amnon’s words, lamenting in an echo of her prophecy, “Great is the fall of Gondolin!” But Amnon did not live to see her King’s remorse, for she had perished in the battle. Too late, Turukáno ordered the remainder of his people to flee through Idril’s secret way, though many had already begun the march. He threw down his crown and proclaimed that though all were free to leave, he would stay and fall with it. Galdor of the Tree attempted to return to him his crown, and Tuor and Idril thrice begged him to escape with them, but Turukáno refused and instead ascended to the height of the Tower of the King and cried out a challenge to the Enemy. He was assailed by dragons and Balrogs, fighting them off with his mighty blade Glamdring, until all his guard perished, Finrun defending him to the last, and the tower was felled by the might of many dragons, its weight and their flame killing Turukáno at last. In time all those who were slain in Gondolin’s fall would be reborn in Aman, even twice-slain Bruithwir and Finrun and war-wearied Amnon. Turukáno’s return would come in time for him to visit Númenórë, the kingdom of his Elros his great-grandson, and he would be reunited with Elenwë his wife and Itarillë his daughter and even Tuor the Blessed, granted clemency by the Valar—and also his dear friend Findaráto, with whom he could now at last find new love amid the restoration of the old.

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love-geeky-fangirl · 3 years

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Ranking every teen drama I've watched

I have gotten really into teen dramas lately, because it's quarantine I can't go out and have fun, but I can still watch other people my age going out and having fun and doing things I don't get to do. Anyway I haven't seen all teen dramas, I was never interested in supernatural ones, so you won't find Vampire Diaries and similar shows on this list.

From worst to best:

The Secret Life of the American Teenager

I will never understand how this show ran for five seasons. It will forever remain a mystery to me. This show is so bad it's good. The writing resembles a wattpad story, Amy's pregnancy is inconsistent (like how was she five months pregnant for like five or six episodes, aren't the episodes supposed to be set a week apart?), the acting is bad (that is not to say that Molly Ringwald or Shailene Woodley are bad actresses, obviously they're not, I'm talking about Amy's sister that has the same facial expression no matter what her mood is supposed to be), some of the views this show expresses are very old-fashioned and damaging (the madonna-whore binary, the fact that they can't even utter the word abortion) and every single male character on this show is a creep and a cheater. I can't believe I watched like thirteen episodes of this. I will never get that time back.

Weirdest moment: "I'm a whore!" "Well, you're my whore." (Was this supposed to be romantic??)

Best moment: none

Glee

This is going to be unpopular and don't get me wrong, I like Glee, but I feel like the writers put much more thought into the musical numbers than the storylines. Again, Quinn's pregnancy is inconsistent (but I'm starting to think TV shows are always inconsistent about pregnancies), the characters don't look like they're in high school at all, the cheerleaders wear their uniforms 24/7 for no reason (Quinn even wore it to her sonogram, like seriously?) the whole celibacy club thing is weird and Mr Schue is a terrible teacher. However, the visuals and the musical numbers are great, Sue Sylvester is iconic (albeit also a terrible teacher) and some of the scenes are really emotional (Kurt singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand made my sister cry) so overall, it's pretty good.

Weirdest moment: Finn praying to grilled cheese (what??)

Best moment: Quinn giving birth to Bohemian Rhapsody, Kurt singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Dawson's Creek

I LOVE their 90s' outfits and Joey and Pacey are really otp material, but I just can't stand Dawson! He got mad that Joey didn't tell him about his mother's affair, as if it was her place to get involved. She was 15! It's understandible she didn't want to get tangled into that mess. He also slut-shamed Jen in a really gross way. He literally stopped talking to her for a day when he found out she isn't a virgin. Why are both Joey and Jen into this guy?? This would've been a much better show if it was called Joey's Creek or Pacey's Creek.

Weirdest moment: the way Dawson's mom confessed her affair to her husband. I don't think any irl human would use this choice of words. Also that scene where Dawson's father was teaching him how to kiss while Joey was watching. Cringe.

Best moment: any time Joey and Pacey are bickering. My shipper heart!

Pretty Little Liars

I loved the book version of this, but the TV version seems way too dramatic. First of all, they romanticized Aria and Ezra's relationship (ewww) and made the whole thing seem much more overdramatic. I don't know how to explain it, I mean the books are also dramatic but the TV show somehow took it to a whole new level. None of the girls look like they're in high school, but I love the way they dress and do their makeup. It's almost as though the writers put more thought into their outfits than storylines. I still loved watching it until Netflix took it off, though.

Weirdest moment: Spencer somehow trying to block A's number from her laptop in the middle of a park and then being confused that it didn't work. Weren't you supposed to be the smart one, Spencer?

Best moment: Haleb in the shower, hiding from Hanna's mom.

Skins

This is a classic. Effy is iconic (I somehow heard about her even before watching Skins) and the musical number at the end of season 1 was out of nowhere but still somehow fit perfectly into the story. I also give this show point for being one of the few TV shows where teen characters are actually played by real life teens. They look their age, talk their age (no "I reject reality" or other cringy lines like that) and aren't unrealistically perfect like characters from American teen dramas tend to be. They look like people you might actually meet in high school. However the show loses points for all the continuity errors (are 8 episodes supposed to be the whole school year??) and the number of unneccessary death/tragic accidents. It seemed kind of over-the-top and unneccessarily dark and brutal at times.

Weirdest moment: Chris's graphic death

Best moment: Wild World

Euphoria

The Gen Z American version of Skins, but with better visuals. Much better. I loved the aesthetic, the colors, the lighting and glitter. Zendaya's a great actress and I give this show points for casting an actual trans actress in the role of Jules. However I find it weird that all guys on this show are complete irredeemable assholes (except of Jules's dad and Ethan that is). Are we supposed to just root for the girls and not the guys? Also I find it hard to believe that any of these characters are actually 16/17. They have sex all the time (yeah teenagers have sex sometimes but on this show they treated Kat as some kind of a chaste nun for being a virgin at 16) and have seemingly no rules and no curfew. It would've been much more believable if they were in college.

Weirdest moment: Nate breaking into Tyler's house, beating him up and then taking a shower. The audacity this guy has!

Best moment: "You did this to me!" and Rue having an anxiety attack on the stage in theater class

Gossip Girl

I know this is also an unpopular opinion, because many claim Gossip Girl is the best teen drama ever, but for me it just got way too soapy as the seasons went on. The first two seasons were believable, even though they didn't really look like they were in high school, but after that it was just more and more weird plot points. I will give this show points for the fashion (I mean Blair's headbands and school uniform inspired a fashion line), the acting ("I killed someone"- iconic) and the choice of background music (Nate and Serena kissing to Paparazzi, Thanksgiving with Watcha Say). Despite the wild twists and turns of events, I just had to keep watching because this show had me hooked.

Weirdest moment: Bart Bass somehow flying off the building for no reason (seriously, what he did there had no logical explanation and defied laws of physics), Dan being Gossip Girl, Bart faking his death and returning more evil than before, Serena becoming Gossip Girl, the affidavit, everyone randomly stopping going to college... there are so many but Bart takes the cake I guess

Best moment: the Thanksgiving flashbacks from season 1, Dan placing a plastic crown on Blair's head

Freaks and Geeks

This is one of the few shows where high school is depicted realistically. It's not all glitter and parties and not everyone has sex and does drugs. Okay, I admit, the bullying was over the top and it was weird how no adults cared but other than that, it was pretty spot-on. It was emotional without being too dramatic and far-fetched and also had funny moments. Yes some of the characters may have been stereotypes but at least the show seemed self-aware of that. It's truly a shame we only got 18 episodes of this show, while The Secret Life of the American Teenager somehow got five seasons??? I don't get it.

Weirdest moment: when Cindy suddenly got super mean once she started dating Sam

Best moment: Daniel showing up at Kim's doorstep, Sam breaking down in tears in the end of 'Garage Door'

Gilmore Girls

I'm not sure this one counts as a teen drama, maybe it's more of a dramedy but I'm still including it here. It's funny, the dialogue is witty and full of obscure pop-culture references and the relationships between generations complex. Same as with Freaks and Geeks, the portrayal of high school is pretty realistic. Characters are shown studying and taking tests and not just partying all the time. However the show loses points for getting weirdly soapy in the 7th season. The dialogue wasn't as good and the camera angles were soap opera like and the storylines weren't very good either. You could really tell the show changed show-runners. The earlier seasons are the best. It's hard to explain but something about them feels cozy like a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate on a rainy day.

Weirdest moment: Lorelai marrying Chris and then making the whole "you're the man I want to want" speech, Lorelai defending and loving Dean for no reason

Best moment: Rory's graduation speech, Rory yelling at Chris and calling him out for not having been there for her, Then She Appeared, "Yes Emily, you may go first"... there are so many!

#teen dramas #the secret life of the american teenager #glee #dawson's creek #pll #skins #euphoria #gossip girl #freaks and geeks #gilmore girls #i would've included the oc but i havent seen enough of it yet

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #11

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Okay, now this is a long one, I hope you don’t mind. I had split this up into three parts to make things shorter but I just hated the way it turned out so much. So now you just have to endure an almost 5.5 k attempt of mine to describe feelings. Oh God. Sorry in advance. If anyone is interested in what the song the Weird Sisters are playing sounds like, I image it being something like Don’t Cry from Guns ‘n’ Roses. I actually like to think they sound a lot like them.

Thanks for the heads up @kc-needs-coffee

Warning: Use of alcohol (my characters do like a good drink, don’t they)

Word Count: ~ 5.400 (don’t hit me please)

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 11: Let Me Take You Dancing

The days leading up to the concert had gotten colder still. Everything was covered in a thick layer of rime, sparkling in the light of the pale November sun. Even the Black Lake had frozen over for the first time in years. The students daring enough to go for a round of ice skating soon told hushed stories of giant tentacles pushing against the ice from beneath the water, knocking heedless students off their feet.

Not particularly eager to get back out into the freezing cold, Lizzie and Charlie had dallied at Hagrid’s perfectly cosy hut far too long. As they were racing back towards the castle, the sun was already hanging low in the sky, their breaths forming in misty clouds in front of their faces.

They found the hallways completely deserted. Almost everyone besides those who had to stay behind at school had already gone to the village. Lizzie risked a quick glance at the giant clockwork above the castle gate while they were hurrying past it. The concert was due to start in less than an hour.

Sure enough, when she skittered into the Hufflepuff Common Room it was empty besides a handful of first years playing a game of cards. Lizzie continued towards her dormitory and found it devoid of her friends. Only the floor, covered in clothes pulled from various drawers, bore witness of the four girls having gotten ready to go out before.

Lizzie waded through the colourful assortment, picking up the odd piece of clothing belonging to her. She found what she had been looking for displayed on her bed. As always, Andre had delivered the outfit he’d made for her just in time. Lizzie ran her hand over the soft fabrics, her eyes lingering on the black heeled boots resting neatly beside the trunk in front of her bed.

She sighed as she picked the precariously high heels up for closer inspection and grimaced at the thought of squeezing into them. She had told Andre she was not used to heels that high when he had suggested wearing some to her in the first place. But apparently, Lizzie’s ability to walk without support was a worthy sacrifice to see the picture he’d had in mind come to life.

After a quick shower to get some warmth back into her body, Lizzie twisted her hair into a ponytail and got changed. She observed herself in the floor length mirror next to the entrance door. Although she severely lacked stability while doing anything more than standing, she had to admit Andre had once again outdone himself.

After she had stalwartly refused to make her appearance in a short dress in the middle of winter, he had opted for an off-white shirt made of a floaty material Lizzie wasn’t familiar with. It reminded her of silk, but it had a thicker feel to it. It fit her body in all the right places while the loose sleeves allowed her to move freely. The boat neckline ran deeper than what she would have normally worn, exposing a fair bit of her shoulders. Thankfully, it lacked any glitzy details that would have distracted from its impeccable fit. It’s simpleness complemented the black leggings made of soft faux leather that clung tightly to her legs. Combined with the boots Andre had given her, they greatly elongated her legs, making her appear much taller than she actually was.

Lizzie picked out some silver earrings and a matching necklace while contemplating the thick black cardigan still lying on her bed. Making up her mind, she dug into her drawer until she had found what she had been looking for. Holding her old Weird Sisters jacket up in triumph, she dusted it off before shrugging it on.

Andre would probably hate it, but Myron, the lead singer of the band, had given a jacket like hers to a handful of friends back in the early days of the band. If she didn’t wear it now, she wouldn’t know when.

Posing in front of the mirror, she presented herself to Mouse, who was eyeing her lazily from the bed she had made herself out of Skye’s favourite hoodie.

“How do I look?” she asked her four-legged companion.

Mouse seemed to examine her for a moment before she let go off the string she had been chewing on, opening her mouth into the widest yawn Lizzie had ever seen. She shook her head and started kneading the sweater with her outstretched claws.

“Don’t get all enthusiastic on me,” Lizzie muttered. She walked over to the cat to give her scratch behind the ears when her heel caught on one of the dresses on the floor. With a little shriek, Lizzie toppled, gripping the post of Skye’s bed for dear life.

As attractive as those boots made her feel, there was no way she would get into Hogsmeade without breaking both her legs first.

Decidedly more careful she grabbed her coat and walked out of her Common Room, her heels clicking loudly on the stone floor. Charlie, Andre and his date, a pale blond girl with a bored look on her face, were already waiting for her.

Lizzie opened her mouth to thank Andre for his effort, but before she could utter a single word, he pointed his finger at her, looking completely horrified.

“What, in the name of all that is fashionable, is this?”

Andre rushed over and tugged at her ponytail painfully. “I explicitly told you not to do that.”

With an exasperate sigh he got his wand out. He muttered “Evanesco” and the hairband holding Lizzies hair out of her face vanished, her brown curls falling down over her shoulders. He observed the result contentedly. “Now you look fabulous.”

Lizzie shot Andre a glum look. Since she had cut her hair the front bits constantly fell into her face, a sensation she had grown to hate. Out of habit, her hand went to her head to swipe it back when Andre pointed his wand at her face.

“Do not touch it,” he warned her, accentuating every word with a flick of his wand.

Lizzie glanced at Charlie for support, who hadn’t bothered changing at all. He gave her the tiniest shrug. Andre bossing her around showed just how nervous he was.

“May I change my shoes, though?” she dared to ask timidly. Moral support or not, she couldn’t fathom walking all the way to the village in those death traps. The concert would long be over by the time they arrived.

Andre was having none of it, though. “No, you may not.”

She made a face. “Why not? They hurt. Charlie is even wearing the same clothes as before,” she complained.

“Because Charlie is basically a troll.”

Despite herself and her increasingly numb toes, Lizzie had to giggle at this swipe at her friend.

“And besides, you are friends with Skye Parkin; you should be used to pain.”

Both Charlie and Lizzie were laughing at this point, while Andre’s date resorted to smiling politely, not sure what exactly was going on.

As the four of them finally set off, Lizzie linked arms with Charlie for support, letting Andre and Claire get ahead of them. When they were out of earshot, she quickly pointed her wand at her feet. Her heels vanished, turning her boots into infinitely more comfortable flats. She winced as the blood came rushing back into her toes.

Charlie shot her a lopsided grin. “I wondered how long you would last in those.”

He picked up his pace now that Lizzie was able to keep up with him. They would need to hurry to get to The Three Broomsticks in time.

“Come on, they won’t wait for us and I fancy something to drink. We’re going to be just in time to be fashionably late.”

Orion couldn’t remember when he had last felt so out of focus.

The main room of The Three Broomsticks was packed to the brim with people laughing, chatting or swaying to the sound of the music. The constant buzz of noise and the little amount of space unnerved him. His eyes were restlessly sweeping over the crowd while he repeatedly loosened and tightened his grip on the glass in his hands.

He was no stranger to social gatherings of course. Lizzie was an avid supporter of the Hufflepuff pre- and post-match parties; after she had convinced Skye to attend several times, it hadn’t taken long before the rest of the team had followed suit. While Orion preferred to focus on his inner balance before a match, he had come to enjoy socialising with the people of his House after returning from the pitch.

But this was something else. The parties in their Common Room consisted mainly of Hufflepuffs and the odd student from another House who had snuck in. Today, it seemed like almost the entire school had crammed themselves into the tiny pub.

Orion shifted against the wall he was leaning against. No, he really couldn’t say he was enjoying himself. He was thoroughly regretting giving in to Skye’s prodding and coming here in the first place.

Skye herself was standing a bit to the side with Penny, her eyes fixed on the Ravenclaws sat at a table a few feet to their right.

Judging from the angry waving of Skye’s hands, Orion guessed she was complaining about Rath, who looked about as comfortable as he was, breathing the same air as her. He was not intent on joining their conversation. His energy was unsettled enough without the negativity Skye was emitting.

Next to him, McNully was observing the same table out of the corner of his eyes. Ever since the girls had sat down, his friend just wouldn’t quit talking.

His ceaseless chattering was accentuated by wide, dramatic gestures. He was obviously trying to catch the attention of the table’s occupants. Orion wished he would just pluck up the courage to get over there and start a conversation with someone who would actually listen to him. He, for one, surely wasn’t.

Orion felt the trace of a headache building inside his throbbing temples. He absolutely hadn’t imagined coming here to be as exasperating.

The other girls in their company weren’t exactly inviting to converse with either. Tonks had left them to find her friend Tulip as soon as they had arrived; he could spot the two of them hanging about the bar, surreptitiously glancing at the huge barrel with butterbeer behind the counter. Orion made a mental note to not drink anything from it anymore.

Rowan just sat quietly at their own table, her drink clutched in her hands, shooting him a timid glance now and again. Orion probably should have made an effort to go and talk to her to ease her awkwardness, but he wasn’t in the mood for hollow chatter. How could he lift someone’s anxiousness while fighting the same sentiments himself?

It was a shame Lizzie wasn’t here yet. He found himself watching the entrance from time to time, looking forward to her finally showing up. Contrary to most of the group gathered around him, he felt like she was the only one he could actually have an agreeable conversation with. Usually, McNully would have been the exception, but his nervous jabbering was increasingly grinding on Orion’s nerves.

He decided to end his torment prematurely; bending down towards his friend, who was just elaborating on the different noise levels of a rock concert and a professional Quidditch match, Orion inclined his head towards the Ravenclaws whose attention McNully was so desperately trying to catch.

“It seems you have quite the admirer,” he shouted into McNully’s ear with a smirk. He was nodding into the direction of a certain redhead, who had been looking towards them way too often for it to be coincidental.

Much to his amusement, McNully paled visibly. His hand went to his head, unconsciously checking his hair. He had made sure it was meticulously styled for the occasion. “Are you sure?”

Orion hummed in confirmation. “Absolutely. She has been looking at you for some time now. Why don’t you get over and say hello?”

McNully nestled with his tie. “I don’t know, mate. According to my statistics- “

“Forget the statistics; they are only numbers representing the odds. And sometimes, the universe is set to defy chance,” he interrupted him.

Without giving his friend a chance to back out, he raised his glass towards the girls at the table, drawing their attention. Smiling broadly, the girl in question raised her own drink in response. She exchanged some words with her friends, before leaving her table and heading over to them.

Orion had left McNully had little choice but to play along. He clapped him on the back as his now silenced friend gulped visibly, once again checking his hair. Leaving them to their own, he pushed through the crowd towards the bar. Although he had to move deeper into the mass of people, he was thankful for a moment to himself.

He had just settled at a corner of the counter, when he spotted Lizzie sitting at a table at the far end of the room. Apparently, she and her friends had arrived while he had been busy getting McNully set up.

She was deeply engaged in conversation with Charlie Weasley and his brother Bill. To his surprise, she had decided to wear her hair open for a change. Her brown curls draped around her slender shoulders, contrasting nicely with the white shirt she was wearing. As if unfamiliar with the feel of her hair loose around her face, she raised her hand to her head ever so often, combing through it with her fingers.

Orion watched lost in thought as Lizzie threw her head back in laughter at some joke Charlie had probably made. He felt his mood sinking again. So much for a chance at a decent conversation.

As if sensing someone looking at her, Lizzie turned her head, her eyes scanning the room and meeting his after a moment. A radiant smile spread on her face as she discovered him at the bar all by himself. She exchanged a few quick words with the Weasley brothers, then grabbed her drink and left her friends to themselves.

Orion’s spirits immediately lifted, he felt his mouth curve into a smile as he saw her approaching. She was weaving through the dense mass of students gracefully, but just as she was about to pass the last row of people in front of the bar, she suddenly got caught on someone’s foot, stumbling the rest of the way.

Orion quickly reached out to catch her from falling, but the impact send her tumbling into him instead.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Lizzie straightened herself up, her face burning red.

“Don’t worry, you know I’m good at catching things,” Orion heard himself answer. He cringed inwardly at the horrendous joke he’d just made. What on Earth had that been about?

Luckily, Lizzie didn’t seem to have noticed. She looked around the room for other familiar faces. “This place is packed! I’d have never thought so many people would come. Where are the others?”

Before he could reply though, Penny came rushing towards them out of nowhere, virtually jumping on Lizzie’s back in excitement.

“Lizzie, there you are! What took you so long?!” she shouted to be heard over the music.

The band was playing a song with a considerably picked up pace by now. “Come on, let’s get dancing!”

Lizzie had just enough time to give him an apologetic shrug before the blond girl whisked her away and onto the dancefloor.

By the time the next three songs were over, Lizzie was breathless from jumping around with Penny and singing along to the music at the top of their lungs.

“Now it is time for your feet to catch a break, my friends,” Myron Wagtail, lead singer of the Weird Sisters, breathed into his microphone with his raspy voice. “This next song is for our sweethearts.”

As the dancefloor emptied of enthusiastic dancers and couples began to fill their places, Penny and Lizzie started making their way back to the bar. Lizzie’s throat was sore from singing, begging for a sip of water.

When they had almost reached Orion, Lizzie caught sight of someone making their way towards them. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realised it was Everett. He was smiling confidently, his intense gaze fixed on her.

Her mind racing, Lizzie set her eyes onto Orion. Without thinking on it any further, she stepped forward and grabbed his arm, dragging off him off his stool and back to the dancefloor.

She saw him raising his eyebrows at her in confusion. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Shamelessly using my knight in shining armour a second time, I’d say.”

Upon seeing her already taken, Everett was backing up again, chagrin written all over his face.

It was only now that she got aware of Orion still standing in front of her, both of them now surrounded by couples swaying to the sound of the music. Lizzie felt the heat rising to her face; she clearly hadn’t thought as far ahead.

To her surprise, however, Orion extended his arm, offering her his hand. Confused, she took it and he pulled her closer to him, his other hand coming to rest on her waist.

“If you dragged me here for whatever reason, we could as well go with the flow,” he smirked. Lizzie blushed even further, unable to think of a witty remark. She decided to just let it go and do as Orion had suggested. Concentrate on the song; go with the flow. She felt herself relax.

Orion was an excellent dancer, she’d have to give him that. He was leading her through the music confidently, making sure they weren’t colliding with other couples strewn across the dancefloor. Even now, the crowd was much thicker than she had anticipated.

Noticing the confused sideway glances some of their peers shot them, she chuckled. She stepped closer to Orion, standing on her tiptoes so she could shout into his ear over the music. “Seems like we’re attracting quite the attention,” she laughed lightly.

He only smirked as he slowly spun her around. Her fingertips tingled as their hands reconnected and despite herself, she felt her smile grow even wider. She tried to relax her already hurting cheeks, but she was simply enjoying herself too much.

Trying to distract herself from the tension she felt surging through her body from where Orion’s hand rested on her waist, Lizzie tossed her head in a futile attempt to get her unruly hair out of her face. Without giving it another thought, Orion lifted his hand, carefully tucking away the rogue strand that had been bugging her. The back of his hand accidentally brushed her cheek and Lizzie instinctively leaned into his touch, her heartbeat picking up pace. The thought of resting her head on his chest crossed her mind for a split second. Bewilderment mixed into the buzz she felt coursing through her veins. What was wrong with her?

“I’m surprised you chose to wear your hair like that,” Orion commented absentmindedly, apparently unaware of the indefinable mix of emotions he had just inflicted on her. “I thought you hated having it in your face.”

Eager to set her mind to something else, she concentrated on her answer. “It wasn’t exactly my choice. Andre forced this mess on me, and I’m rather annoyed by it.”

Orion furrowed his brow. “You should not let others dictate your appearance, especially if you don’t feel like yourself.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before the corner of his mouth quirked up into a small smile, something sparking at the back of his dark eyes. “But for what it’s worth, I think you look beautiful.”

Lizzie felt her cheeks blush dark red, while her heart suddenly seemed to skip several beats. Totally dumbfounded by his unexpected compliment, her mind raced for something even remotely clever to answer without looking like he had caught her unaware. Which he completely had. Her throat went even drier than before, while she still struggled for an answer.

She was spared further embarrassment, by Myron breathing a dreamy “Thank you” up on stage before the music picked up again. Still smiling, Orion let go off her hand as the rest of the crowd came flooding back on the dancefloor.

Suddenly surrounded by people again, Lizzie’s attention was thankfully diverted from the awkwardness of the situation. Dark eyes sparkling with amusement, Orion gave her a small wink before retreating back to his seat at the bar.

Although Lizzie tried her best to immerse herself in the pounding rhythm of the music, there was no way she could concentrate anymore. Tapping Penny on the shoulder, she screamed into her ear that she needed to get a breather. Her friend immediately made to accompany her, but Lizzie signalled her to stay. She wanted a moment to herself.

She desperately needed to sort her racing thoughts. Penny was usually a formidable person to ask for advice, but Lizzie preferred to get her mind in order on her own.

As soon as Penny’s attention had turned from her, it was all Lizzie could do not to run for the exit of The Three Broomsticks. She shut the door firmly behind her, cutting off the noise of the music and the dense crowd.

The cold air hit her heated body like a torrent of icy water. She contemplated slipping inside again to get her coat but ultimately decided against it. The quietness of the sleepy wizard village was a stark contrast to the raging concert going on inside the pub and Lizzie could feel her head clearing already.

Shivering, she wrapped her thin jacket tighter around her body and sat down on a wooden bench to the side of the building. The music reaching her ears from here was muffled, but she could still make out the familiar tunes.

Humming along to the melody under her breath, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cold stone wall behind her. Now, sitting outside in the crisp air of the winter evening, the whole situation from before seemed completely surreal. A dipping feeling was building inside her stomach, reminding her of the nerves she usually felt right before a Quidditch match.

If it wasn’t for the tingling she could still feel in her fingertips from when Orion had touched her, she almost would have believed it had been a fever dream. The sensation was spreading rapidly into every part of her body the more she thought about it. How rough his hand had felt, calloused from the many years he had dedicated to playing Quidditch; his hold had been gentle though, prompting her to follow his movements without even a second thought.

Lizzie covered her eyes with both her hands. Her thoughts were running wild and she tried in vain to reign them in by taking slow and deliberate breaths. It was a technique Orion had taught her way back in her first season, when she had been a nervous wreck before her first match.

She let out a small cry of frustration as she realised how Orion had entered her mind again without being invited.

“You cold, snowflake?”

The sound of the familiar voice startled Lizzie from her thoughts with force. Jolting upright, she almost slid off the cold wood of the bench, only catching herself at the last moment.

“Don’t you dare scare me like that ever again,” she huffed, scrambling back into a more dignified position than lying half on the frozen ground.

Charlie only raised an eyebrow, a badly contained grin showing on his freckled face. Much to her relief, her black coat was hanging over his arm, while his other hand juggled two steaming mugs of mulled cider.

Lizzie shuffled over to made room for him on the bench. She took her coat off Charlie and shrugged it on, only now realising how cold she had actually been. As he handed her one of the warm mugs, she gratefully wrapped both her hands around it. The stinging in her palms as the blood came rushing back into them made her grimace, but it also helped clear her head properly.

“How did you know I was out here?” she asked her red-haired friend who had slumped down beside her.

Charlie took a moment to blow against his cider before taking a tentative sip, instantly wincing as he found it still too hot to drink. “How could I not? You practically fled the room after dancing with Amari; you almost knocked me out in fact.”

Startled, Lizzie blinked at Charlie. She hadn’t even noticed him.

She blew against her own cup before raising it to her lips. The sweet cider almost burned the tip of her tongue, but the warmth it spread from her stomach felt divine against the bitter cold.

Lizzie sighed, her breath forming as a cloud before her face.

“So you saw us dancing?”

“Are you kidding?” Charlie tried for another sip, more successful this time. “I think pretty much everyone saw. I mean, both of you have been on the Quidditch team for years now; people know you. I bet it’s quite the buzz already.” His laugh died in his throat when he saw her miserable expression.

Lizzie hung her head, her fears confirmed. Of course the people around them would have seen them, but she had hoped for the crowd having been too thick for anyone else to notice.

Her mind briefly flickered to Rowan. It was the first time since arriving at Hogsmeade she thought about what she had promised to her friend. This was certainly not what she had thought would happen, when she had dragged Orion onto the dancefloor just to get rid of Everett.

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping on their warming drinks, Charlie allowing his friend to process the information he’d just given her.

“So, do you have a thing for him?” Charlie eventually asked her cautiously. When he saw her wince uncomfortably, he added a teasing “Do I need to be jealous of Orion Amari, of all people?” in a futile attempt to lift the mood.

Lizzie didn’t feel like bantering though. To drive her point home, she gave Charlie a pointed look, eyebrows quirked up, until he stopped laughing at her plight. Contemplating his original question, shook her head thoughtfully.

“I’ve no idea; I don’t know what happened in there.” She started drumming her fingertips against the rapidly cooling glass. “I never even thought of him other than a friend,” she mumbled more to herself, if anything.

Charlie silently watched her. He couldn’t recall a time when he had seen his otherwise confident friend as thoroughly rattled as in this moment.

“I don’t know if it helps, but the two of you would make quite the couple. The sparks flying between you could have been breathed by a Hungarian Horn Tail, from what I’ve seen.”

Judging by Lizzie’s unmoving expression, he feared he had chosen entirely the wrong way to cheer her up once again. But to his relief, a trace of the Lizzie he knew glinted in her eyes a moment later.

She playfully shoved at him, the cider in his hands almost slopping out of the mug and over his hands.

“What do you even know, Weasley?” She rolled her eyes at him, but wasn’t quick enough to hide the smile spreading on her face.

“Not much, I guess. Remember, according to Andre, I’m secretly a ginger troll.” He made a funny face what was probably supposed to be his personification of a troll. Beaming at successfully making her giggle, Charlie got up off the bench and offered Lizzie his hand. Accepting it, he pulled her up into a standing position.

His face grew serious, eyes flicking towards the fogged windows of The Three Broomsticks for a moment.

“Speaking of Andre, I’d better go see how he’s doing. I left him in a pretty state when I went after you.”

Lizzie tilted her head in confusion. “Why?”

Charlie sighed. “He got dumped pretty much as soon as we got here,” he elaborated. “Turned out his sweetheart was just after a pretty dress made especially for her. Andre found her snogging a guy from her year when he got back with drinks for them.

Despite her messy state of mind, Lizzie’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you serious?”

She slammed her mug down onto the windowsill of the pub, turning all her confusion into righteous outrage at the foul treatment of her friend.

“Where is that sneaky twat? I’m going to punch that smug little face of hers!”

Hurriedly getting rid of his own mug, it was all Charlie could do to restrain the furious girl.

“Woah, calm down, that’s helping no one!”

“But she can’t just go and treat someone as lovely as Andre like that!” Lizzie tried to wiggle past Charlie, who looped his arms around her until her sudden flare of temper seemed to wear off.

Not entirely sure if it was a good idea, Charlie carefully let go off her, relieved she didn’t immediately use her regained freedom to storm back into the building and start a bar fight.

“I agree, sunshine; but hear me out: I can get you out of detention for a lot of things with my prefect bonus. Hitting another girl probably isn’t one of them though.”

Just to be sure, he put his hands on Lizzie’s shoulder and turned her around, marching her a few steps away from the entrance door.

“Tell you what, I’m going to go get Andre and then we’ll just head back to the castle together, alright? No hitting, no violence.”

Lizzie was still grumbling indignantly under her breath, but agreed after a moment.

As soon as Charlie had vanished inside however, Lizzie turned on her heels, marching along the main road at full speed. She hoped to be well out of sight before Charlie had located Andre and convinced him to leave .

She knew he would be furious with her for returning to the castle alone, and rightly so. The light was completely gone by now and the road back to the castle led through a stretch of forest for a good part. Although well lit, it was an unspoken agreement that neither of them was to go alone.

But she was in no mood for company. Neither did she want to comfort a heartbroken Andre, nor did she have a mind for Charlie’s jokes trying to cheer them up. She needed to get herself under control before seeing her friends. Seeing Rowan.

Seeing Orion.

She picked up her pace, walking as fast as she could without actually breaking into a run, her breath soon becoming heavier.

What a fine mess she’d manoeuvred herself into. Try as she might, she couldn’t deny the fluttery feeling still rising in her stomach even now when she thought back on dancing with Orion, how good his hand had felt on her waist and how badly she had wanted to rake her fingers through his long, jet black hair.

Lizzie forced her mind to stop with all the willpower she had to muster.

No. This was Orion Amari she was thinking about in an absolute inappropriate manner. Her friend, her teammate and her team captain. The guy her best friend wanted Lizzie to set her up with.

She came to an abrupt halt next one of the wrought-iron lampposts lighting the way and kicked a heap of frozen leaves out of pure frustration. It didn’t soothe her agitation in the slightest. Suddenly feeling deflated, she leaned her forehead against the cold metal post and closed her eyes to shut out everything but her own thoughts.

She would not do this to Rowan.

She just couldn’t. Rowan was her friend. Lizzie had promised her to help.

A sudden cold drop on her neck made her shiver inadvertently, quickly followed by another and another. Lizzie opened her eyes again and lifted her face to the dark sky. Despite her inner turmoil, she felt a wondrous smile steal on her face as she gazed up into the darkness, all sorrow forgotten.

It had finally started snowing.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #orion amari #orion amari x mc #quidditch #the quidditch squad #quidditch squad #art of balance #lizzie jameson #charlie weasley #L writes #L is rubbish at describing feelings

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | THE EMPEROR INTERLUDE

First time reader click here

A look on the relationship from Tony Stark's eyes. Should give you an insight as to how his character growth was plotted - that's hard to see through a first person POV so I came and delivered the "whys" behind his behaviour.

He felt the restless thrumming of the arc reactor between his ribs.

It was the first thing that drew focus of his mind as the situation at hand began to make sense. He was a clever man - the genius in him wasn't just for the academics; sure, he'd revolutionised the world once or twice or three times over the past ten years, but when it came to the rather delicate matters of the heart, he was as clueless as when he was a teenager.

The difference between then and now was only that he knew when to keep his mouth shut. It didn't matter how many poisonous articles the media sharks spewed out, he didn't hesitate to silence and shut every single one of them without a word to the one that started it all.

She lived blissfully by his side. The papers took their worst: without a direct statement, they speculated and called him a cradle robber, a moralless skirt chaser, every name in the book. She wasn't spared too: despite her young age, her social standing and vulture of a mother, the occasional "opportunistic gold-digger" comment made it's way into the NYC socialite column. She never uttered a peep, never shed a tear or even complained and he was utterly fascinated by it.

The world she was living in was much different that the one he was used to. The younger generation used to confuse him but now it was just terrifying; amongst her peers, only the most bitter, jaded ones expressed their disdain towards the press speculations. He'd taken to scrolling through the comments of her social media to make sure she knew what she was getting into by having a relationship with him; the outcome was bizarre - he didn't expect a positive response whatsoever but there they were, people born in the beginning of a new millennia, excited for her, showing their support for the girl who already had made a name for herself in the scientific community.

Another surprise - she was full of them, each day was like opening presents on christmas morning. Banner had nearly turned green when he found out that the "papichulosatan" he was corresponding with on an invite-only biological sciences themed forum was actually a teenager - she had been 16 at the time. Apparently, the inhabitants of the entire planet Earth except for the residents of his tower knew that she was something... Something else.

Not a child, not quite a woman. She hadn't acquired that bittersweetness that Tony associated with women his own age, like Pepper and many more he'd tried to form a relationship with. His girl was pure of heart, clear of soul, but in a way that complimented her maturity. Ever since that fateful night he spent two hours running around the NYC's trendiest clubs just to find her sitting alone with a sense of pride rivaling his own, he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was always on his mind and it was terrifying.

It wasn't like she suddenly made his life entirely something else; rather than changing him, she quietly complimented him in a way that suited them both. They didn't really fight because there wasn't anything to fight about. Sure, they disagreed on things all the time, but the unspoken rule to not force something on one another stood. He learned that with Pepper and she- she seemed to be emotionally mature on her own.

That's what his therapist had said, anyway, surprising herself and him. It was evident that the woman thought, to some extent, that he had made her up. But the honeymoon period passed - and Bruce had joined them - and shit happened, but she still stood quietly by his side, not intruding into his personal space but offering him a shoulder to lean on whenever he needed it. Ever since that, Tony began to feel truly invincible. Not a single event in his life had made him feel this powerful.

She went and made friends with Loki, the unlikeliest of people, and she stood by him, too, seemingly a neverending readiness to tear anyone, who dared to make a negative remark about him, limb from limb. Knowingly or not, she had patched the hole in the team - a gaping, bleeding one, of mistrust and unnecessary cautiousness, and continued to do so every single day without a care in the world. Not just him, Tony Stark, but all of the Avengers were invincible with a back-up like that.

Realistically, Tony knew they still had ways to go. They were begrudging friends at first but now the bonds strengthened; even as his disregard for Rogers lessened, the man himself was taking steps to control his impulsivity and temper. Tony hated that it had to be a teenager cowering in fear in front of Steve for the man to realise his good intentions didn't always get the best results. Tony was grateful to Loki he'd stepped in that time. While he didn't think Rogers would actually strike a woman, two hundred pounds of genetically engineered bulk of muscle towering and yelling over you was no less terrifying.

At least it started to turn gears in that steroid brain of his.

Everything after that seemed like a dream. Quiet and witty until provoked, his girl was insatiable for him in a way that matched his own hunger for her. It was never just sex with her, somehow, each time he was inside her it felt like revelations. They'd sit for hours, her in his lap, his half-hard cock buried deep inside her welcoming heat, sometimes working and sometimes just listening to each other's gentle breathing. All the love songs started to make sense.

Seeing Bruce, his second best friend and partner in crime, handle her like he did provoked an opposite reaction of what he was expecting of himself. Tony had been terrified of her leaving him, every single day, no matter how many times his ugly, rotten inside showed itself and she still accepted him; with time, the ache dulled, but it never fully went away.

Bruce put a gentle band-aid on it, unknowingly of course - the scientist was too busy taming his own demons to look out for Tony's - but he went to Tony and laid his cards out on the table. Not backing down and not being sorry for himself either, so neutral it made Tony's heart hurt. They both had come to an agreement, of course, but she went and shredded it and showed them fair and square that they both - all three of them - could get what they wanted only if they worked on themselves a little bit.

For the first time in their lives, the men were truly motivated. There was none of that manipulative undertone that Pepper liked to use on Tony - "you're an adult man, you should be doing and feeling this or that or I'll have to leave you" - there were just gentle hands and even gentler words and no expectations. One day at a time, every single one of them was learning, happily so.

And it wasn't until Natasha had ambushed him in his workshop that he realised, another one of many firsts, that this was what healthy love was supposed to be. There were no obligations, no covert contracts, not one thing that made the whole 'committment' shiding so toxic and terrifying.

Somehow, Natasha knew. "If you hurt her, that's on you. She won't run the first time, and the second time, it's going to be the straw that broke the camel's back... And I would pity you if that happens. Because people like her... They are dangerous when they are hurt. She would gut you like a pig."

Tony's ears were ringing; he wanted to laugh at the absurd thought of this understanding, kind human being acting maliciously. But all he could focus on was Natasha's choice of words: "If... If..." If, not when. Did the spy really think the three of them stood a chance?

Natasha had unceremoniously picked up and chugged his long-cold coffee, gracefully hopping up on the table. "You two are more alike than you think. Figured you'd be self-absorbed enough to choose a carbon copy of yourself," With that, the Russian left, leaving a gaping Tony to stare into the nearest wall. His brain registered it was a joke way too late, the fury that crawled up to burn his throat was cooled by disbelief. If Romanoff thought he was even half as kind and thoughtful as his girl, was it really an insult? Damn those puzzling Russian spies.

Bruce had come not much later, shaken and pale but not green, so deep in thought that he ran into lab equipment twice before ending up in the same place that was occupied by Romanoff minutes earlier. He muttered something about Loki and a pep-talk; things that sounded more like a discussion with his green side, so Tony left him alone.

The shift in Bruce's and Hulk's dynamic was visible to the naked eye ever since that long night in the lab where they both watched Peter and her working on something personal, perfect symbiosis, well-oiled scientific research machine, unlike themselves. Both of them choking on jealousy and acrid, ravenous envy, feelings too inappropriate but too obvious to conceal. Peter's crush on her was just as obvious and her disinterest was just as transparent. But the what-ifs had eaten at them both until they had to spew them out, and the Hulk had been the pushing force for them to begin to act like adults.

Hulk had proposed, in his limited vocabulary and much too passionate tone, to protect the puny Princess at all costs. Bruce didn't resist much and Tony jumped on the bandwagon as soon as he could. It was the only logical solution.

That's why Tony threw the party; he could not care less about Barnes' desire to see Rogers in something trashy and slutty on all Hallows Eve. He couldn't give any less fucks about the press that was raving for another Stark party. He did care a little about Strange's wounded ego: the man fascinated him, like any other strong-willed, independent character, but nothing more. Tony wanted to know what would make the sorcerer tick.

Tony wanted to give his baby girl the world.

And then, he failed.

Tony felt as if someone had poured a bucket of waste right over his head when his- their baby girl had come in, shaking and hiding behind a furious Loki and announced in a monotone voice that she'd been drugged. Something inside of him broke, snapped just like the pencil that Strange was holding next to him.

Bruce hulked out and Tony felt as if he himself would burst any second. His Princess was fearless, he knew it, yet couldn't help his heart from skipping a beat when she approached the green beast with the same kindness she treated all of her closest people. Tony didn't hesitate to follow the Hulk's orders, eager to channel the murderous rage and regretful anguish somewhere; it just spiraled out of hand. Once again, his head was underwater as his life spiraled further and further into lightless abyss and he was alone-

And then all of a sudden, he was warm. Not on the outside, but on the inside - the arms around his shoulders were comforting like an old, worn out sweater, familiar. Missing s couple of threads and spouting a couple of holes - imperfect, but utterly his. Her breathing steady but a little bit shaky, hands holding on just a little too tight.

You two are too much alike, he remembered Natasha's words. That was probably her way of showing just how scared she was. She could be as terrified of his reaction as of the person who did... That... To her. In his house. Tony wasn't stupid; he could put two and two together. That wasn't the time to mope or wallow in self-pity, it was the time to remove the foreseeable threat.

The team stood in silent agreement. A rare moment of absolute unity, all interpersonal issues pushed aside and locked away. Coulson's side-eye was of cosmic magnitude but nobody paid it any mind. It was very unlikely that even the agent himself would be able to stop Natasha and Clint from dealing with the guy; as more and more details came forward, the clouds in the room thickened.

Nobody batted an eye when Baby was, yet once again, the voice of reason and the operation Baby Thief began progressing forward smoothly. Tony reasoned what himself that letting her go with Strange was the best option - even the billionaire himself could not get a better combo than a sorcerer and a doctor that very day.

The box was retrieved; the mere presence ff it and the terse atmosphere it brought into the room reminded all of them too much of the Tesseract and it's effects. Loki was, perhaps, the worst of them all: pacing like an agitated animal, the god growled under his breath at his brother who was clouded with grief and worry. Tony found himself asking "what would Baby do" and came to a conclusion - nothing that wouldn't require him to step over his pride.

In the end, he conceded. A simple "Walk with me", but it was an obvious olive branch extended to Loki and the Asgardian knew it. He wasn't stupid enough to refuse a truce offering in a situation like that. They walked laps around the SHIELD base in neutral silence, slow steps, each lost in their respective thoughts but being finally able to breathe with a full chest. Thankfully, nobody made a remark that they both returned as soon as the box was secured and placed in temporary containment for Strange to pick it up.

For the second time in those 24 hours, Tony's arc reactor all but buzzed in response to his skyrocketing heart rate. She'd called - Loki's phone - and she sounded broken. All of them froze at the exhaustion in her voice; there was nothing but emptiness in the whispers. Nothing that made her, her.

The scene in front of them was something straight out of a B-rated horror movie. Tony thought Loki had reached the apex of his anger earlier; evidently, the engineer had been very wrong and godspeed to the people who managed to piss off the moody Asgardian. It appeared as his magic exploded out of him, all but knocking the people behind him into the walls of the Sanctum.

Their Baby, laying on the floor and the people who swore to protect her beside her, it set Tony's blood ablaze. It boiled, tipping the heat if his temper dangerously close to it's boiling point. She spoke to them, voice shaky and her own fire - it was burning at least as strong as his blood, something had happened and something had hurt her...

Belatedly, he realised Natasha had been right. She was dangerous. There was nothing of the sad, scared girl that came to Bruce whenever she had been upset; there was no desperation for validation, the very same she'd thought she hid well but it seeped through the cracks of her self-deprecating jokes.

Something... Or someone... Had threatened something vital to her. And she was going to make sure they never, ever get the chance to do that again.

I got a comment on AO3, where I also posted this, complimenting my world building. I took a moment to think about it and I understood that to make the story more saturated I had to include some of the other's POVs. So y'all can count on more of these. And if you feel like the x doctor Strange pairing isn't being fully explored - I am aware of that, it's going to be explored more. After all, it took us 10 chapters for Bruce and Tony respectively, and Stephen is a slightly more complicated man. That said, we'll have some more interactions with him shortly. Thank you for your continuous support, guys. I may not remember every single one of your nicknames my heart but I see the likes and I definitely notice whenever a new person binges on this fic. What originally started as an excuse to write hot boomer porn has now grown into something that's a whole damn book and that's because of you guys being so amazing. I love you all 3000.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you

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